Blood Runs Thickest =Vlad

[Mircea Dracul II]

Mircea nodded to his brother, a soft sigh resting on his lips. His brother needed a break, he talked about them, a lot, but he hadn’t actually done anything to take one. It surely didn’t seem like he even slept for that matter. Vlad made promises for himself and for his Fiancee, but what he needed to do most of all was actually act upon them. And not in a few months, he needed to do so very, very soon.

Vlad spurred his horse forward, his beautiful black beast storming off into a raging gallop. Mircea held Keska a moment before he let the reins loose, tapping the horses side. He understood perfectly, and tore off after Vlad. Racing behind his brother reminded Mircea of childhood days out playing on their small ponies, running around the forest, getting into mischief and trouble, but now they were adults, trained and geared for war if necessary, now they were on stallions, tearing up the earth as they stormed their powerful beasts forward. Keska’s glittering chocolate hue was more obvious now in the light, the golden hue under his belly looked as though he had ran across a lake of gold, and it splashed up onto him. While he was not a pure solid color, such as Vlad’s horse, his coloring was so unique, it was hard to really call him anything but royal. His breeding as well, was no typical crop horse.

Into the forest Vlad raced and Mircea followed, ducking out of the way of some branches, others he let just blaze past his head, he felt the wind from them tickle his face. Threatening to slice his cheek open, idle threats, all of them. As they tore on, Mircea pulled Keska around, letting him race up beside Vlad and his horse, just a few tree’s over, on another small deer path. Mircea let his stallion race up, and just past Vlad’s horse before Keska leapt over a fallen tree, taking the obstacle with the grace of a wild buck. Yet, even as now Vlad raced forward once again, Mircea led Keska along the deer path still, risking his own limbs from branches reaching out with gnarly fingers. Keeping an eye on Vlad he noticed his brother slowing his horse, and Mircea did the same, eventually reaching Vlad once more, and smiling at him, his hair, which was once smoothed back, now a bit more of a fray, strands resting in his face and against his brow.

“Reminds me of the old days.” Mircea laughed before Vlad began talking, and he listened quietly. It was nice to hear his brother talking to him like this, letting all of his feelings out, letting his thoughts rest upon Mircea’s head now, and not just his alone. It was nice to have that sort of connection with someone, especially family, and a brother. Most brotherly relationships were jokes, sarcasm, some hostility and competition. But Mircea had bowed from the throne elegantly, knowing his brother could take it with better grace and skill. His name was Vlad after all, there had to be some mental connection in that alone. Yet there was one thing Mircea was sure of, Vlad would never hate him, and Mircea would keep it that way. Having known what it was like to lead as a king, and be king, yet under a harsh time, when his rule from the throne was tossed from his hands, he could give Vlad first hand experience, and give him first hand suggestions on what to do, and what not to do.

“Vlad…listen to me. You are building a nation that father and I could never have built in such a short time. You must have some part of his brain, I swear, for how well you’ve been able to handle everything that’s been thrown at you. You’ve seen everything, you’ve seen Father’s mistakes, and mine, and you’ve learned from them, and you’re rebuilding a peaceful land that even I wish I could’ve done. You’re writing brilliant treaties that will no doubt give the land some settling peace to further the peaceful development of our nation and it’s lands. The people will look up to you as a savior, and not just a King. You are forcing a violent Empire to submit to a peace that is only set on one side. You will regain complete control, and you will do so with enough time to spare.” Mircea watched his brother carefully. “Power…and such nobility is nothing to envy, and you say that yourself, and it’s the truth. We see only the harsh truth, because that’s what it is, and it will never be powdered and pillowed as many wish it to be. Even seeing us out on our horses racing across fields, it’s the rare moments we get to breathe and relax. We are constantly fighting for something, we are dealing with more than the peasants can imagine.” Mircea looked forward. “The only reason they envy power is so they feel they have the power to do what they want everyday. What our people don’t realize is…they have more power in freedom, than you, or I will ever hold.”

[Vlad Dracul III]

"Sometimes I wish we could return to the time when we were children," Vlad murmured, brushing some of his dark hair out of his eyes, "Back then, everything was innocent. People were people and we could do as we pleased. If something went wrong, Mother and Father would fix it. But all children grow up. Those children who watch us on our horses will someday have to pay our taxes and grow to resent us. I doubt I'm a very popular king. They may be thriving, but I'm sure they're reluctant to give me any of their hard earned produce. Sometimes I feel like we are trapped in our own idleness, we do nothing but speak, negotiate and think, while they labor every day, growing our food. I know that this treaty will save the farmer's land and the soldier's lives, but I doubt a warrior with no more battles or the farmer who finds himself competing with him will see it that way."

And that was the true cost of war, the one that lasted long after the battles. Lives were uprooted, people changed beyond repair, some never even returned. Their nation appeared to be thriving, but the aftereffects of the conflict were still visible. He still saw widows and their young children struggling to tend their farms, so that they could keep their land. He still saw soldiers attempting to wield a plow as they would a sword. Until everyone had returned to a somewhat normal routine, the war would not be over. His work would not be done. Everything relied on his competence now. His father was dead, his brother could advise but not rule, and he would never burden Alexandreina with his own problems. He hoped that someday, someone else could share the brothers' concern, feel their joy when they saw the little successes of their people and know they were doing something only they could do. It was rewarding, but tiring. Vlad was suited for the life, he didn't need the idle time and his greatest accomplishments had profits he would never see and hopefully his successor would be the same.

"I wonder if the peasants consider our lives as anything other than a separate, detached world," he continued, "I doubt they even know we are real people. And trust me, brother, though I am honored by your confidence in me, you would have done just as well, maybe better. You would have known how to ease the veteran soldiers back into a more peaceful world. During your reign, the land was so peaceful. Someday I want it to be that way again. I know we can never fully return to what once was, but the children who admire us should be permitted to live the same lives their parents did. And look at how much different our world is than the ones our ancestors inherited. That's the problem with politics, it changes faster than people do. I would have been content to live the life of our barbarian ancestors, when there was simply good and evil, friend and enemy, peace and war, without any of these in between relationships. Somewhere, I doubt I'm any different from my ancestors who lived for the hunt and the fight, the only thing that's changed is my society."

Vlad wondered for a moment what his father would think of what he was attempting. He had never even considered making peace with his ancient enemy. Would he be disappointed that his son was sitting down to a civilized talk with his murderers? Or would he have been proud that Vlad had managed to overcome his personal prejudices and do what would be best for the land they both loved? He would have expected Mircea to continue ruling, but he deserved the peace he had found. Mircea still aided him, but he no longer looked nearly as stressed as he had during his time in power. He looked healthier and happier and for that Vlad was grateful. He would have done anything for his brother and the idea of Mircea growing old before his time seemed repulsive. He was always strong, always knew what to do. The tow of them could rely on each other and trust they wouldn't be betrayed. He never would have trusted any one else this completely.

"I'm grateful Radu isn't my only brother," Vlad smiled as he tapped his horse's side gently and began walking slowly towards the fields, where the ripe grain was nearly ready for harvest, "I love him, but he's innocent. And he should remain that way for many years. God willing, he will never be called upon to become king, so he can enjoy the life of luxury he has been given. And I have you to advise me. Together, we almost always think of a solution to any problem. If I was all alone in this, I don't think I would have the strength to continue. Whenever I feel like giving up, I think of the land, the common people, Alexandreina and you. You gave up so much so our family could continue to rule. I won't disappoint you. Everything you accomplished will not have been in vain, that would be the worst thing I could allow."

[Mircea Dracul II]

As Mircea listened to his brother, the more human he realized he was. Vlad was caring, and in many ways, reminded Mircea of himself. Mircea focused much of his rule as king on the people, helping them, wanting to hear from them, good or bad, wanting to know what their lives were like doing a hard days work while Mircea spent days in his office trying to write treaties, trying to solve diplomatic problems, to keep the people working, to keep their lives easy, at least, in a sense of security. They could mostly live as they wished, minus the natural laws that were placed, again, out of security. He had set a ground on which the people could walk safely, and now, Vlad was building upon it, during the dirt into stone, setting a firmer place for them to walk on, setting a firmer foundation for the rest of their lives. It made Mircea feel all the better about putting his younger brother into the throne, instead of keeping it himself. Vlad really did have a mindset of a good king, and an honorable one.

Mircea smiled as Vlad considered the lives of the peasants versus their own. Having spent time talking with them Mircea saw a slightly different side of them than Vlad may. They did care about their kings and princes, not just respect and slightly fear them, they welcomed them. Knowing well that the kings did what they must to keep their lives steady, taxes and all. The taxes, were what paid the soldiers, were what paid the kings, but mostly, it was to keep the soldiers living well, to keep the land in peace, and after explaining that to angry peasants, they understood. It was mostly all for them, no matter how detached they were from the society of nobility, no matter how many, in between relationships there were, everything was done for them, and when they understood that, the more they did to help.

“If life could only be so easy as that Vlad, we would never have grown to be so advanced as we are now.” Mircea grinned as he followed Vlad. “Good and Evil, friend and enemy, are such simple concepts…even in that, there is still, slightly evil, best friend, worst enemy. In the simplest concepts of white and black, the gray between them is what makes it impossible.” Mircea turned his eyes down to the earth they walked on, then back to Vlad as his brother spoke some more. Ah young Radu…Vlad was right. Mircea wished as well that his youngest brother wouldn’t end up king, so he wouldn’t have to suffer through the pains and the troubles, the headaches and heartaches of being the leader that Vlad and Mircea had been. Vlad was good at it, beyond good, he could do this sort of thing with, what seemed to Mircea, barely stressing, but Mircea knew on the inside, and from these conversations that Vlad was stressing, that he thought a lot about what he’d done, and that he struggled daily to decide on the things he must do tomorrow.

“Vlad, I’m sure you’ll never let me down. You have proven yourself beyond what I suspected already, there is no way that you can become any less the king you are now.” Mircea reached over, gripping Vlad’s shoulder with a gentile squeeze. “You are a king greater than I would’ve become, and I admit that full heartedly. You will also continue to become a great king, no matter what course of action you must take, you will be admired among the people, and for that alone, I can say I am proud now, and will be even more prideful then to call you my brother, and my king.” Mircea smiled, as he released Vlad’s shoulder, nodding in the direction of the city. “What say we visit the people? Let’s hear what their concerns are? Believe it or not, listening through the sometimes yelling or crying, you begin to understand what more you must do, or what more you can do, to better their lives. After all, what is being a king but being a servant to them?” Mircea smiled as he pulled his horse in that direction, slowing the creature down to glance at Vlad, to see if he was willing to join Mircea.

[Vlad Dracul III]

Vlad turned his horse to follow Mircea's towards the farms. Visiting the people was a duty he infinitely preferred to making treaties and he was relieved to have an excuse to do so. Although he had never worked the fields, he had a healthy respect of the land that grew his food and loved visiting the farms. The crops looked peaceful, growing without paying any heed to the hands that tended them, in a way like the growing peace. Vlad smiled slightly at the thought. If he had been born a peasant, he would have been perfectly happy as a farmer, working hard by day, but sleeping easily by night. But instead he had been chosen to preserve that by some accident of birth and by being skilled at a war he should never have been forced to fight against the enemy that murdered his parents and defeated his brother. But now Mircea no longer seemed conquered. Once more, he was advising Vlad and striding confidently through the palace, sure of himself and the prince that he was.

"Of course," Vlad smiled slightly as he spoke, "They claim to serve us, but it really is the other way around, isn't it? When we see them, we know who we stay up all night for and when they see us, they see the powerful lords who devour their food. But they're grateful enough for us when we protect them during war and I think that, somewhere, they feel pride in seeing their kings and princes riding by, looking majestic and powerful. To them, we're a symbol, a symbol of the nation, a symbol of pride and strength and intelligence. If this balance was lost, the land would collapse. They would grow isolated without us as a common ally or common enemy, depending on the time, and we would lose our motivation. Although we don't seem to appreciate each other, or even notice each other except when necessary, I like to think we all rely on each other more than we could ever know."

A few rays of pale sunlight shown down on Vlad's hair as he emerged onto the sunlit path that led down through the farmland. The dirt rose in dusty cloud under his horse's feet and he slowed down so he could ride beside Mircea. The road was wide enough for four horses to ride side by side, certainly more than large enough for two. The wheat was being harvested in the farms he past, golden hair giving way to bald, brown patches where the crop had already been protected. He was pleased by how much of the land remained filled with tall plants. Last harvest time, there must have been half as much at most. The land was recovering from the war and so were the people, it was visible in their faces. Although their eyes were still haunted, they seemed more alive, more energetic and their faces were no longer as thin. Children played in the roads once again, peering up at the two young lords on their horses and seeing how close they could get. Some of these young ones probably knew nothing of war, knew only the peace Vlad had strived so hard to create. He hoped he would be able to mantain it for them.

Vlad smiled down at a young boy with blond hair and very large dark blue eyes as his mother called him over and whispered something in his ear. He didn't run back to join the other children but watched the brothers from a respectful distance, eyes filled with wariness and awe. Vlad noticed then that he was older than the others and was beginning to take on the role of an adult. He remembered when Mircea had first been entrusted with the kingdom at the age of thirteen. Vlad had advised him as well as he had been able to and his promotion had marked the beginning of Vlad's own maturation. He had always admired his brother and followed him closely in everything he did, so that year he too had begun to act like an adult. He wondered if all younger siblings grew up faster, eager to keep up with their elder siblings, or if it had been primarily because of the tight bond the two shared. Mircea was his only full brother, in soul as well as body, and these people, from the woman who pulled her son aside to the children still young enough to be indulged, belonged to them both equally.

[Mircea Dracul II]

Vlad of course, spoke the very truth. It was a vicious cycle that the two groups would have to face, and learn to compromise and deal with. The nobles would serve the people, by speaking for them, by protecting them and making their lives as easy as they could by putting in laws that they may not agree with, but in the end, it would better serve them, because it was always for them. The people served the nobles, by growing food for them which they had no time to grow for themselves, by creating the textiles and good that were necessary for modern life now, in return, they were given safety, they were given the reaffirming notion that they would be safe, and that they would never have to worry about their lives in danger, so long as the King and his court kept firm control.

As Vlad turned down the dirt road that led through the farmlands, Mircea followed. His own horse keeping pace with Vlad’s beast. The plume of dust that followed them seemed like a longing wisp on the wind of the nobility long sense past. There were people on the road, moving to the side with eyes of awe as their King and Prince rode past. Mircea tried hard to contain a smile that was on his face. IT felt good to be out with them, as a former King, now prince, he knew what it was like to have the lives of these people on his shoulders, and now, to ride beside Vlad was just as good a feeling as riding with his own wife into the city. The people saw him for who he was, not just a former king, but still someone of power in the country.

Mircea watched Vlad smile down at a young boy, and he turned his own gaze over to an elderly man standing on the side of the road with his mule. He was carrying goods on his pack animal, and he smiled with a toothy grin at Mircea, bowing his head with bright old eyes at the Prince, and Mircea couldn’t hold the smile back, and the dip of his head in hello. He felt a connection to the people, since loosing the country to the Ottomans, and giving the throne to Vlad. Who in turn, retook the land for the people. Since then, and sense seeing how his brother so beautifully moved the army, he realized how much the people needed people like Vlad and Him. People who could keep control, yet…Vlad did it better, in Mircea’s eyes he did. And since loosing the empire and stepping from the throne, he had trained himself in the art of warfare and fighting, and was becoming better by the minute.

“I’ve heard local chatter the markets will be busy today with fabrics and goods. I believe the crops have also been harvested today, perhaps we may find something good for a dinner?” Mircea smiled, his hand moving along the neck of his stallion, his gaze settling from the people and the road to Vlad, a smile on his face. He wanted to get his brother out there, no matter how dangerous and brash it may seem for the noble to go upon the people and wander among them without guards or anything fancy, sometimes it was necessary, to assure the people you were still there, and that you were still a person all the same, and that you still cared.

[Vlad Dracul III]

"Let's go," Vlad agreed, "I haven't eaten alone in my rooms for a while, so tonight maybe I'll just have a small meal with you and Alexandreina. I'm sure no one will notice my absence, I haven't exactly been social the past few weeks, but I wouldn't want to burden our hardworking chefs with creating an additional meal. Although they never complain to me, I know they don't appreciate the extra duty. Bringing food home would be the least I can do. Also, I think we need to get the courts buying from local markets again. There isn't nearly enough money floating around, but fortunately that's fairly easy to remedy. Economics are predictable, it's people that are harder."

Vlad dismounted from his horse and took the reins in one hand. His beast was probably far too large to fit in the market square and he didn't want to risk Fane devouring anything. He probably could convince the people to give him their produce for free, but the courts already hoarded enough food, today he would behave better than a common thief. Vlad had never held much respect for nobles who used their power to steal and advance their own positions, just because they could. Just because you had a knife, didn't mean you should use it. He had funds enough, the war hadn't completely drained his treasury, and any money he spent would in turn be spent on other luxuries, thus making the markets move forward. He wondered if his father would have done the same. He had always seemed honorable to Vlad, but he had died when his son was still young, before he had a chance to look at him through adult eyes.

Of course, Vlad's honesty didn't always extend to other nobles. He wasn't above using trickery to ensure they behaved as he wished them to, but they knew the game well and played it as much as he did. They had been taught from childhood the value of a secret, the meaning of a lie, just as he had. And they held a good deal of power. Without their help, with their political influence, vast lands and full treasuries, he wouldn't be able to accomplish much at all. The secret was to never let them realize your true intentions, but with these villagers, Vlad didn't need to play that kind of game. When a boy, the same one who had caught his eye before, stepped forward to take his horse's reigns, he didn't need to wonder if he was secretly a thief or a spy. Vlad knew this village well and the people were honest. They would quickly oust any criminals in their midsts, unsympathetic to any with less than honest tendencies.

As Vlad approached a booth, he peered around at the stalls, some filled with crops, some with petty luxuries. All were different, but they all seemed cheerful and alive. He could barely tell there had just been a war, listening to people haggling the prices and showing of their purchases. A small, potbellied butcher stood beside his stand, displaying his meat proudly, challenging the customers to try his wares and they would never want any other. Nearby him, a young fair-haired lady called out to men, advertising her father's stall. These little attention-grabbers were as diverse as the market, but it was clear they were all fighting for the support of the masses, a prize few would win. Vlad grinned as he shielded his eyes, peering at the two stands he had first noticed, wondering if the prices would be fair.

"Brother," he began, just loudly enough so those nearby could hear and know he hid no dark secret, "Do you think those two have fair prices? Or maybe we should travel further in, visit the merchants who arrived a little later?"

[Mircea Dracul II]

Mircea nodded gently, Vlad had a good point. The chef’s didn’t like having to dive into heavy stockpiles just to pull out a small meal for another table guest. It meant too much work, wasted food, and more than that, it meant that they had to worry about making another mistake and displeasing the people whom were dining. Perhaps bringing home some food for them to cook right out instead of making them go into the storage would be a relief for them, even still, perhaps bringing home food that didn’t require cooking would be even better, the extra relief of having a night off had to be welcome to any of the staff in the mansion or castle. Having a day to the family, had to simply be wonderful.

Mircea would know, and he was sure Vlad knew what it was like as well, to spend a night with the ones you loved most.

As Vlad dismounted so did Mircea, rubbing his hand along his stallions’ neck as he did so, then taking the reins, leading the horse in. Even if the market were crowded, many could handle the bulk of a horse through the market, if not, they didn’t have much choice, when it came to the King and Prince’s horses, there really was no excuse, and no reason to argue. It wasn’t every day that the royal blood of Transylvania was wandering the market with the urge to shop.

Mircea’s gaze glanced around some stalls, taking in the trinkets and jewels, the crops and textiles. A few times some pretty gems caught his eye, shells of some kind from far away from the city, gems that he’d seen many times that looked brilliant in the sun. Each one reminded him of Elena, and how beautiful it would look upon her neck and collarbone, how her dark hair and her fair skin would show it off just perfectly. Yet they weren’t the quality that Elena deserved, she deserved the flawless best, and nothing short of it. With a gentile smile he turned away from one, and heard Vlad begin to address him

Turning his hazel eyes on Vlad for a moment, before looking the direction which Vlad had been looking Mircea smiled, stepping closer to his brother. “You address a good question, though I can be assured usually those farther down have the finest goods, arriving later means they aren’t as picked through.” A toying grin rested on Mircea’s face for a moment, watching the vendors stumble over something to say. Turning to Vlad again he gave his brother a pat on the back. “Let’s keep going, usually the end of the stalls have the best, rest assured, I’ve seen and heard about it.” With a smile he began to walk forward, nodding politely at a few women who bowed to the two royals.

Not only was everyone looking in shock at seeing Royalty, many were looking in sheer awe of seeing the two young Royal Dracul’s out walking. Women stared, fanning themselves, others blushed and looked away, many bowed, many stepped aside with quiet respect. Many more stared at their king, with gazes of admiration and fear.

It must be very uncommon to see Vlad out and about…it made Mircea all the more glad he had coaxed Vlad into coming into the market.

[Vlad Dracul III]

"Hmm, you're probably right," Vlad nodded his agreement as he began to walk farther back, "You certainly know more about these markets than I do. I haven't had much time to visit them recently and I've forgotten how they work. It is fairly late in the day, so these merchants will probably have sold their best by now. Although I am a little concerned about running into some who aren't quite honest, I'm sure there will be more left there than there is here. Maybe we can even pick up a few little trinkets for Alexandreina and Elena. I don't know what they'll have, but I'm sure we could find something they would like."

Vlad frowned slightly as he passed a young man carrying a stack of packages clearly too heavy for him, who then rushed out of his path. This was one of the reasons going out into the villages wasn't as rewarding as riding by farms. Here, people weren't used to seeing him, they weren't quite sure how to behave. The young man dropped one of the boxes as he stumbled his way through the market and Vlad picked it up off the ground. The boy didn't even seem to notice. He was too young to be working so hard, but that was the way things were in the world and Vlad was lucky he had been suited to his work. If he had lacked intelligence, he would have found his royal status challenging, but no one in his family was stupid. He should probably return whatever this envelope contained, it wouldn't be fair for the boy, probably an apprentice of some sort, to be punished for losing it when it was to some degree Vlad's fault. The king walked over to the apprentice, whose knees were wobbling slightly, and placed the envelope back on top.

"You dropped this," he said, "I hope it isn't anything too delicate. If it was, it could have been damaged in the fall."

"Oh, no sir," the apprentice stammered, "Just a letter for my master. And thank you, my lord. I'll be sure to tell my master of your kindness. I apologize for dropping it in your path."

And with that, he disappeared back into the crowd. Vlad smiled slightly. He remembered all too well what it was like to be unsure as to your standing in the world. When he had first been driven out of his palace, he had felt lost and without a purpose in the world. But he had found his place once more and that was a journey all youths had to take. He might never see that awkward child again, or he might see him years later when he was a strong and confident adult. He seemed skinny and awkward now, but he seemed hardworking enough and his master would surely ensure that he didn't remain this way his entire life. That was one good thing about apprenticeships. They helped unsure teenagers discover their talent and find their own way. He remembered all the shy young lordlings who had arrived at this court and, years later, walked the streets confidently, secure in their own power.

"I feel a little bad for the poor boy," Vlad murmured to his brother, "I doubt he had ever seen any noble before. But he'll forget the encounter soon enough and if we ever see him again, he won't be a child anymore. We've seen a lot of boys like him enter the court. Somehow they always manage to grow into the confident lords who argue against any plans we make, except for the ones that benefit them of course."

As they reached yet another row of stands, Vlad wondered if they had travelled back far enough. Here, a husband and wife guarded a stall crowded with meat, whose smell wafted over the market. He could see little children, less than wealthy judging by the quality of their clothes, staring hungrily at it and it made him wonder how often they came to gawk at the stands that held so much food, all for those with money. Unlike the others, they didn't even seem to notice the two young Draculs, although one did stick his tongue out at a passing customer wearing gaudy red silk. Vlad discreetly shifted his path to the right, wanting to avoid the poorer residents of this village. They were a reminder that his war efforts hadn't completely succeeded. Some of them could have been the sons of soldiers, left homeless with their father's deaths. It was odd how wealth and poverty could so thoroughly ignore and disdain each other and Vlad wished there was some way he could change the past. But there was nothing he could do for those children now.

"I think we're nearly far back enough," Vlad said, "But you probably know better than I do. And let's move back a little farther. I don't like the way the children are staring at that stand."

[Mircea Dracul II]

Mircea paused in his step as Vlad paused as well, picking up the box that a young lad, carrying far to much had dropped. Watching his younger brother return the parcel to the lad, exchange a few words and watch the young boy babble on for some time, made Mircea grin all the more. Mircea was nearly a common figure in the Markets, finding them amazing places to visit each week, sometimes more than once or twice. When they would see Mircea, the people would smile, others would bow, but his presence wasn’t as much of a shock. What did it the most was seeing their King, out with his brother, a former king, walking the marketplace.

That was definitely not an everyday occurrence for these people.

Near the back Vlad finally stopped, and Mircea glanced around. The produce still looked fresh back here, and yet, the stalls weren’t as grand or many. Mircea had found, through trail and error, that in the back, while the people may not have as well and nice stands, their produce was the best, for two reasons. One being that it wasn’t picked through fully, so the goods were still good. The other, was that people were out to sell their goods, not make a profit, they needed to sell them so they could get clothing, they made their food, they could eat, but to live, they needed to sell, so they often were most willing to bargan, for a price.

Vlad then spoke, commenting how he didn’t like the way some children were eyeing one stand. Mircea sighed. “Tis a common occurrence Vlad. You see, unlike us, people, especially some children can’t eat everyday, they eye the stands, because they can only wish that they had what that person was selling. I’ve seen vendors at the end of the day hand out unsell-ables to the poor and begging.” Mircea turned Vlad away from the scene, pulling him down another row. “It’s something you’ll get used to the more you’re in the market among them, to a point where, you won’t find it so disturbing.”

Mircea smiled to his brother, walking down another row with him, before he paused at a woman selling jewelry, adorned in beautiful colored stones, many as clear as day. “A trinket or two for our Women Vlad?” Mircea pointed. “Looks genuine and well crafted. Or are you more interested in looking for our dinner before looking for something for Elena and Alexandreina?” Mircea kept his gaze on the woman for quite a moment, before he turned to look at Vlad, one brow arched in curiousity.