It was not that day of the week--the one day where Jeralia had time to herself and could what she pleased. Yet on the second day of the Duke's visit, as he was being shown around the capital by Myrril, the Princess found herself shopping. It was not uncommon for her to be out on the streets of Grisvald, staking out the different shops for things she liked: dresses, jewelry, nail polish, as well as gifts for palace workers. She was never really alone, though--undercover guards would form a perimeter around her vicinity, and for good measure she was typically accompanied by a guard or servant, disguising themselves as a brother, sister, or a friend. This system worked so well that not even the shopkeepers of the places she visited were aware that the Princess of Osharis was browsing through their establishments.

  "Hey, Your Hi--Jeri," Amel said, wearing a gray dress with yellow trim said, remembering that and Jeralia were going incognito. "Do you really have to go? I'm... I'm going to miss you so much. Who else is going to get me gifts for being good and working hard? And let's not forget, there's no one else who can make my nails pretty like you do! I... don't like this, not one bit."

  Jeralia, wearing a short-sleeved beige dress with brown trim with an accompanying veil and leather sandals, giggled, but this laugh was tinged with pain.

  "If I don't go, how else will we keep our home safe? I know you hate it. So do I. But, you know what?"

  "What?" the brunette teenage servant wondered.

  "It doesn't really matter. Because you're allowed to do whatever you want."

  "I-I beg your pardon?" Amel tilted her head in confusion.

  "That's right. You've lived in Ballandon for a couple years now, haven't you?" Jeralia said, her tone low enough for just Amel's ears. "It's not a strange place. You're allowed to live there, and when I can, I'll let you visit my new home in Mizan. I can even try out the exotic Mizanian nail paints on you. Or..."

  "Or?"

  "Or I could take you with me to Mizan. This time, I won't just let you be a servant. I know that life is all you know, but I doubt the Mizanians will treat you the same way we do if you remain one. So... how'd you like to be my future lady-in-waiting?"

  The young servant was bewildered. Was it really a personal request by the Princess herself? It would be the honour of a lifetime--but she was not sure if she was ready to make that choice. On one hand, she was being invited into Jeralia's very small circle, while at the present she was nervous to even call her a friend. But on the other hand, Osharis--and to be more specific, Grisvald and its suburbs--were all Amel knew. Her friends, family, home were all there. She didn't know if she could just leave it all behind only for Jeralia.

  "I... I... I need to think about it, Jeri. This isn't a small decision."

  A faint smile spread across Jeralia's reptilian mouth.

  "You have plenty of time to make that choice, dear Amel," the Princess said. She slipped her hand around the girl's arm, linking her arm with hers. "I, too, had to make a decision that wasn't light. But I'll give you much more time to make it."

  "Mhm." Amel said, pleased. Her somber mood had flipped around in a matter of a few sentences. She was sure that no princess in the world had such a caring disposition towards her subjects, despite how little she was able to interact with them. All she had to know was how she treated the people at Ballandon.

  "Well, now. That bridal shop... if I'm not mistaken, it's just around this cor--

  Jeralia was interrupted by the collision of her body against another person's. Amel acted quickly, pulling down at her veil firmly so that it wouldn't fly upwards and reveal her head, which she had never seen herself.

  "Are you alright?" Amel asked as she helped Jeralia compose herself.

  "Yes, I'm fine," Jeralia breathed. "Thank you."

  The two took a glance at the man, who appeared confused. He was around Jeralia's age and of average height and, by the looks of his clothing, was of humble origins. But his most noteworthy traits were his dusky complexion and kinky hair, features that native Osharians did not have at all. Few people with his traits lived in the Kingdom, most of them being fisherman and traders from southern countries, even coming from Mizan. Hardly any came so far inland to the capital, however.

  "Please accept our apologies," Jeralia said with her hands folded in front of her waist, giving a slight bow of respect. "That was an accident."

  The foreign man raised his hands, as if to apologize in return, and offered a friendly smile. With little delay, Jeralia and Amel acknowledged him and continued on their way to the bridal shop. A man nodded at the two, asking if they were okay wordlessly. Jeralia nodded back, recognizing him as an undercover guard.

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  "Wasn't that fellow strange?" Amel wondered as the signage of the shop came into view. "He didn't even say sorry. I feel like he could've done that at the very least."

  "There's always a chance that he doesn't speak our language. Still, I think that apology was adequate."

  Nearly two hours in one of Grisvald's finest bridal boutiques yielded no results. The artisanally-woven dresses, which took months to make by hand, did not appeal to Jeralia at all. Not when they were to be worn at a wedding the wearer had no desire to be at.

  "There are still four or five shops we can go to before the sun sets," Jeralia told Amel as she stepped out the boutique exit, her tone suggesting that if she maybe browsed a little more, some dress might entice her to look forward to her marriage to Pallius. "Which do you reckon we go to next?"

  "Erm, J-Jeri," Amel said, suddenly squeezing close to her princess. "Is that... not the same man?"

  Jeralia looked to where her servant pointed, a crowd of men in the middle of a street. They all seemed to surround one person. Jeralia knew most of these men--her guards, and by the looks of it, they were scrutinizing a suspicious person.

  "I'll look into it. Stay here, Amel."

  The veiled woman approached her guards, making sure that no passers-by made the connection between her and the guards.

  "Gentlemen, what's going on here?"

  "Oh, erm, Miss..." a guard noticed his princess. "Nothing too serious. Just that this foreigner here has been loitering for quite some time now. We don't want him to disturb the good people of this city."

  He had the other guards back up a bit, revealing the person in the middle at the centre. It was the same foreign man from before.

  "Sir, are you lost? I understand this city isn't very easy to navigate. Is there somewhere you're looking for?"

  The man nodded with the same smile he had on before.

  "Do you understand what I am saying? You don't look like you're from here."

  "He knows what we're saying, alright," one of the guards said. "But that's not the issue here. This is."

  He handed Jeralia a letter that he explained the man carried with him.

  To the citizens of Grisvald and Osharis,

  This man is under the employment of His Grace Duke Pallius Orryn, accompanying him on his voyage to your nation. He has been allowed to roam and venture in his free time, and we trust that he will not breach the laws of your land. He is mute, but he understands your dialect fluently. We trust that you treat him with the same hospitality you treat all of your guests with.

  Sincerely,

  Lord Khrom, Steward of the Ducal Household

  She handed the letter to its rightful holder.

  "So he's just a guest, then? He isn't causing any problems, it seems. He just doesn't know where to go."

  Jeralia was astonished that this man worked for Pallius himself, but she hid that from both him and her guards.

  "We fear he might be here to spy on us." the guard leaned in closely, making sure his lips were unreadable by the Mizanian.

  "That's a possibility, but we don't know that. Let me speak to him."

  There was a sort of innocent ignorance she sensed from the Mizanian. Having the curse she had made it necessary to hone her intuition skills, something she did not take for granted.

  "O-Of course, Your Highness." the guard spoke in a hushed tone, before obeying his Princess' orders. The guards discreetly dispersed to their original positions.

  "So, Sir. It appears that your employer didn't mention your name, so please let me call you that. I'm well-versed in this city's establishments. If you could tell me what you're looking for, I could guide you there."

  The man took a step back, before making fists with his hands. He put one over another, before making a sweeping motion with his arms. The gesture seemed unusual.

  There's only one thing I can think of...

  "Could it be that you're looking for a broom? Or supplies for cleaning?"

  This... will take a while.

  To her shock however, the man readily nodded. It appeared that his smile was even wider now, perhaps glad that his request was understood so quickly.

  "In that case... there's a very good shop I know that everyone from the capital goes to-even people from all over the country travel go for just what you're looking for."

  She was not lying. The store she took the man was genuinely renowned for its expertly-crafted tools, made from trees in Osharis' pristine forests. Though there was a real chance the man might have been joking, she saw it as an excuse to part from what would inevitably be more window-shopping.

  She stood just behind him, making sure no one would take advantage of his condition or foreigner status. This was her acting not as the Princess, but as someone who tried to see the goodness in him, despite the fact that he may have been a spy.

  With a bit of time, she observed the man going from one variation of brush, broom, or mop to another. He tested each tool out, seeing how it moved in his hands. Jeralia saw it clearly, even through her veil. It was as if she was watching a child introducing himself to new toys, seeing how much he enjoyed them. This mysterious man from Mizan had to be the real deal.

  At the shopkeeper's counter, he put his purchases on the counter, then fished through a sack he had tied to him for coins to pay with.

  "You don't pay when you're in Osharis. Not when you're my guest." she said, before retrieving her own coins from her purse. The man's eyes glimmered with gratitude as the shopkeeper counted the coins.

  Night was falling over the city by the time Jeralia and the Mizanian exited the store. But to leave the man to his own devices, in a country foreign to him at night? She didn't want to leave him and his new tools to be prey to bandits and thieves.

  But that meant having to reveal herself as the Princess of Osharis, an identity she kept from the public her whole life.

  I can't just leave him to join the Duke's entourage now. But, then...

  A sudden realization came to her. She had kept this secret, one of many, because of Myrril's and Dyso's rules. She wanted someone to know she was the princess, anyone. This man would not be able to tell anyone he'd met her, because he simply couldn't.

  He can be the keeper of my secret. And he wouldn't even have to see my face. I can just tell him who I am.

  "Sir... it is getting quite late. I suppose all this shopping has got you tired?"

  The man shrugged. Either he was trying to give an air of humility or he wasn't sure, but Jeralia already had her answer.

  "Hmm... would a cup of tea interest you, made fresh from the hobs of the Royal Palace?"