And there was himself, of course.

Dathaniel Alwin. Country boy made good.
His mother had been so proud when he had become a teacher; she had worked so hard to put him through school. And he had felt good, teaching; teaching was learning, too, his old mentor had said, and he had begun to understand.
And then... there had been the call.
Prince Kristof, the Dauphin, had moved into the castle nearest to their village. He had let a call go forth for a young man of good repute, well educated, whose honesty was above reproach, to serve as his secretary.
He had applied. There was some competition, but none could match his resumé.
And so he was hired. Twice a week, he would report to the prince and make notes of everything. He oversaw his administration and read his weekly schedule. All the same, he kept teaching. It was perfect.
His mother was -so- proud and happy.
That had been one year ago.
And then-
And then-
SHE had come. She and her entourage, all the aristocratic ladies with their faces hidden behind coldly gleaming masks.
She had insulted him in his own home. She had dismissed him like one dismisses a waiter. His prince had been furious... and Than... well, he was... furious, but quietly.
And then there had been a war. His prince had demanded that his secretary come with him to keep track of all the expenses and all his soldiers and he had come with him...
His mother had cried. She had shouted. His sisters had screamed at him and called him an idiot. They had begged him not to go, but how could he not? How could he abandon his prince?

---

And then -
And then -

Poor mother.
At least he hadn't died. At least he was still alive. As long as there was life, there was hope.

And he still was with his prince.


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