Chapter 3

Aiden hit the dirt hard, looking like a mess. The wood sword he had been given slipped from his grip and fell inches away from his reach. His hair had long slipped free of the ribbon he used to keep it up. It now law scattered around him like an old wet and thin cushion. It provided the protection of a bed sheet. His clothes didn't fair any better considering that he had long taken off his shirt due to the heat. It seemed to backfire as his back ached, probably gaining a few scapes. His legs were lucky. Even his feet faired a terrible fate as his annoyance of shoes had gotten to him earlier. Suffice to say that he was in pain.

It was best not to move after the fall. It was good break from the supposed training. He hated this every fiber of his being. Out of knowing how to use a sword or knowing how to craft one, crafting one had much more appeal.

He watched the clouds go calmly by as he caught his breath. It was quite a nice day. He would rather be using this day to paint the very sky he was looking at. Unfortunately, reality had other plans. His view was obstructed by Micheal peaking over him with a smug grin. He leaned on his wood sword like a cane.

"Tired already?"

"I'm not made for this." Aiden tiredly groaned.

"That's your fault." Micheal held out a hand to help Aiden up which was gladly taken.

"I'm an artist!" Aiden whined as he sat up. "What need do I have for this?"

"To protect those you love, of course." Aiden whipped his head in the direction of the new voice. He found Oliver walking up to them in much more comfortable looking clothing. It was much like the clothing he had worn a day prior except it was looser with  was no cloak in sight. It was quite the contrast from the armor from earlier. Much less blinding and angelic.

"Fat chance of that!" Aiden laughed at Oliver's explaination. "There's not a damn person in this kingdom who will fall for me."

"What about family?"

"Don't have any."

"Friends?"

"Nope."

"What kind of life do live?" Oliver furrowed his brows in confusion, clearly perplexed by Aiden.

"The life of an artist, your highness." 

"I have never met an artist so isolated." 

"Well, I'm not like other artists." Aiden pulled himself up. He let go of Micheal's hand and brushed the dirt off of himself. "Paint is my friend, brushes are my family, and my art is what I love." He stretched, trying to calm the ache in his muscles.

"I see." Oliver scanned him up in down. "So, you've gone mad." 

"What?" Aiden laughed again. "No!" Finally, his hands landed on his hips. "People and I don't mix well."

"That's quite depressing."

"Not at all! I love it!" 

"You're kidding?" Micheal asked in disbelief before Oliver could even react. 

"Isolation makes for a good work environment." Aiden explained. "The more I get done, the more I can earn and less debt I have."

"That's dedication."

"I told you, it's a passion!" He grinned. 

"A passion that will leave you living a piss-poor life." Oliver frowned. 

"So?" Aiden tilted his head slightly, his grin falling slowly into a line. He put on a face of business. This was business, after all. It didn't really feel like it though. "My goal is not to live nicely, my goal is to be remembered for my work." Oliver's eyes scanned him up and down again amidst the silence that followed Aiden's words. 

"You're quite the peculiar man." He said after a moment. His eyes meeting Aiden's own.

"It's an innocent dream that you carry."

"I was right, you are a child!" Micheal laughed. 

"If I were a child, I'd be called a prodigy but since I'm a grown man, I'm called scum." Aiden said bitterly. "I believe that those who call me scum are simply envious. Growing bitter from giving up on their own dreams."

"It could be that some are simply bitter without reason." Oliver suggested.

"Never is." Aiden shook his head. "In my town, everyone dreams but never achieves anything. It's quite the pathetic village."

"Does that mean you're happy being here?"

"Yes and..."

"And?"

"And no." He shifted his gaze away from the prince to the distance. "You see, I hate the people but the landscape is amazing. I always love to paint it." He smiled fondly. "I believe my masterpieces come from the hours spent out in the fields trying to precisely paint every strand of grass and flowers to every cloud in the sky."

"Those masterpieces don't sell well, right?"

"Unfortunately." He blinked. "Wait, how do you know that?" He looked back to the prince with wide eyes.

"Did you really think I just randomly choose my artists?" Oliver scoffed. "I thought you were smarter than that." He shook his head with a disappointed look on his face. "You two can continue your training." Oliver turned to go but was promptly interrupted. 

"Hey, I still don't know why I'm doing this!" Aiden crossed his arms, with a bit of an irritated look. 

"To protect your precious art, of course." Oliver craned his head to look back at him with a glare. "You love it, after all. Would be a damn shame if someone were to try to ruin it." There was something quite terrifying about the glare of the prince. He made those jewels for eyes look sharp and ready to sink into anyone. It sent a shiver down Aiden's spine.

"You're also a servant to the kingdom, so, do as you're told." Oliver then went on his way. The two on the field watched as his figure grew distant. After a moment, Micheal laughed. 

"He seems to really like you!" 

"I'm fairly sure he hates me actually."

"No, he definitely likes you." He chuckled. "Looks like you're here for the long run."

"Is that a good or bad thing?"

"Don't know." He shrugged. "But I know that I'm happy that I won't have to escort some new idiot every day." 

"How many others were there before me?"

"Twenty-two." 

"Well, I'll be damned." Aiden muttered.

~

The steaming water of the bath let him relax. The ache in his muscles fading as he sank in. He let out a big sigh of relief. A yawn followed mere seconds later. After such a long day of training, he had more respect for the castle guards. Especially Micheal. That man had seemingly unlimited  stamina. It was no wonder that he was the prince's most trusted guard. It would take someone with the energy of a bull to balance out that man. 

Those two really were enigmas. Aiden had met many different types of people of all kinds of background. None were ever as odd as Micheal and especially Oliver. It could be because of the lifestyles. It's not quite a normal thing to be a castle guard, much less a prince. Micheal, at least, had a sense of reality. Although incredibly intelligent, that prince was in a difference land. He seemed to be distracted most of the time. Like there was something tugging at him. There was something especially strange when Aiden told him about his isolation. He was an odd character, to say the least.  

Aiden whined, sinking in deeper into the water causing it to splash slightly over the tub. 

This palace was an odd world to be in. He must have traveled to a fantasy from a book on the carriage ride. There was no way this was the same reality. It was beautiful here but something felt off. Strange, even. Maybe the disconnect was because he was a commoner. Most likely. He was probably overthinking all this. 

However, it was quite odd how Oliver tried so hard to seem cruel and apathetic. The man was clearly very caring given how the reason he gave Aiden to train was to protect others, not himself. He was far from cruel. It was almost like a cat. A hard exterior but tending to slip up and start being oddly adorable. Truth be told, that prince had the same appeal has a cat. 

Not a bad heir to the king at all. Perhaps that was why Oliver put on such a mask of cruelty. He wanted to make his old man proud. Clearly, he was not like the king though. His nature was far from it. A terrible struggle to face. He could only pity the man for such a thing.

Aiden never had to deal with the struggles of family. It wasn't like he had any family for half his life. He could still at least understand it. There were small bits of fading memories floating around in his head of those days. Similar situations arose, of course. Nothing could quite compare to the prince's life. A life of luxury and pampering. The lastest in education being drilled into your head in order to rule the kingdom. Leaving the people to fend on their own for the skill to learn. It was fair to say that Aiden didn't agree with the system. He lived within it so he had to obey but that didn't change his bitterness toward it. There was a strange sense of agreement when the prince heard Aiden's words though.

It could be that the education he received let him think on his own. Critical thinking was a sign of a king. Who ever dared to teach the man that could have been killed. Quite a risk worth taking. That prince would be more than capable of taking the throne. If he matured, he would bring the kingdom to an age of prosperity.

That thought had Aiden grinning. That was something he'd love to see. It was an innocent dream of no one starving or sick. A possible one though. But with the current king, it was an impossibility. He could practically jump up cheering now. He's contributing to the cause in the slightest way. He would surely be rich once Oliver was named king. Nobles from all lands would come to ask him for portraits and paintings.

Oliver truly was an angel prince, indeed!

Aiden laughed happily to himself, sinking his body deeper into the water. With a breath, he tucked his head under. He continued with the thought of the prince. Oliver wasn't actually much of an angel. He was simply a human with thoughts and emotions just like any else. That really showed the disconnect between the people and the royal family. They're seen as godly. When they're not. Oliver is the prime example of that. Oliver is the last string to the tearing fabric. Who knew which direction he would be going. He could either tear the kingdom apart or sew it back together.

That was a big weight to hold. Perhaps that was where the critical thinking truly came into play. Something was on Oliver's mind. Whatever it was, Aiden could only hope it was for the good of the kingdom.

He came up for air. Gasping as new air made its way into his burning lungs. He looked down at the water that mirrored him. His hair draping down like wet curtains. Water dropped down making little waves. He leaned back, relaxing in the water. He shut his eyes.

"Either way." He said out loud to himself. "I'm still a commoner." He sighed. "I know nothing." He flicked his eyes open. "We all know nothing."