Where the Young Prince Stands

             Vitoroy had not been looking forward to this trip, preferring home above anything else in the world. But the summers were the only time he got to see his father, and every year Vitoroy thought he could finally figure out what he wanted out of life by spending time away from home. Every year, that did not turn out to be true, even Vitoroy was not sure why he kept going. Perhaps he just wanted to make his mother happy, let her know that her son was not a total shut in, but it did not make Vitoroy dread the trip any less. It was not the heat of the desert heat that worried him, all dwarves even half-breeds had internal temperature regulation. It was just having to be away from his mountain, or even his father’s house, away from any semblance of home that made Vitoroy uncomfortable.               But now, now Vitoroy was there at the dig, marveling at the massive tent that surrounded him, a shade shield from sunlight made of Dragon Silk. The pitch-black fabric not only kept

            Shabaka usually hated long rides like this one, but this time it did not bother her. All she cared about was the fact that she was about to go on her first real adventure and live like the heroes she admired. Then again, that did not make riding in a cramped train cart with five other people any more pleasant. They each had their own way of coping with this particularly uncomfortable ride. Shabaka was excited enough that it did not bother her as much as it normally would have, Amare stayed in a deep meditation nearly the entire duration of the ride; Tilian read; Vitoroy hated everything so this was not much worse for him; Smallblade was truly miserable, willowing and whining the whole time; but Bard… Bard was unfazed. Shabaka was never able to grasp the kind of man her father was, now she learned that he was the kind of man that could keep himself distracted by staring out a window off into the distance.             When the train finally came to a stop at an old train st