<div class="floatright">(https://img00.deviantart.net/9350/i/2013/067/7/5/prince_ivan_wolf_by_mad_sama-d5xbtav.jpg)</div>It was a crisp morning, and steam shot from the nostrils of the two barechested minotaurs that stood to either side of the giant iron gates of Arrakar, the Imperial City.  They snorted and stamped their feet, filled with menace despite their seemingly eternal patience as they stood watching the endless forest, a massive polearm wielded by each and held upright with one hand, red banners blowing in the chilly wind.<br/><br/>A distant horn pierced the ambient sound of wildlife and leaves, followed by the slow rumble of hooves, at least a score, stampeding closer at a furious pace.  The minotaurs straightened their posture and one slammed on the gates, some hundred feet tall and still dwarfed by the smooth walls themselves.  They groaned open until locking in place with a echoing clang, and as if on cue the Prince’s traveling party burst out of the wilderness and swerved onto the only road.<br/><br/>Auren Arakiss, Crown Prince of the Realms United and successor to his Imperial Majesty Krygold II, King of Kings and Emperor of the Known, leaned forward in his saddle and thrilled at the feeling of the cold wind in his face as he pushed his horse onward, his dark hair blowing behind him along with the gold-laced red cape wrapped around his shoulders, exposing his double breasted coat underneath.  He was flanked by two pairs of centaurs, all armed and the front pair blasting their horns as he reluctantly slowed the pace, letting them trot through the gates  with their chests puffed up and the sweat on their backs shining in the morning sun.   Their pace nevertheless bordered on rude as they wove through the labyrinthine city towards the pair of castles on the far end, one a vast palatial estate connected by a thin bridge to the other, a lonely, single-towered monolith capped by a large torch that glowed above the city like a lighthouse.<br/><br/>While ordinarily conscientious, Auren was too busy and too preoccupied to think much of the ordinary citizens standing aside and watching with curiousity as his squadron of quadripeds advanced through the capital.  In fact as they approached the upper city, capped by the castles and the grand temples for gods of each pantheon, he actually increased their pace again, anxious to get a handle of the situation after his long absence.  After all, it was his wedding day.<br/><br/>A tall, beautiful man with long ears stood at the top step of the largest cathedral and smiled at their approach.  “Auren!”  He called out, taking dignified strides and holding out his hands.  “Did you enjoy your ‘stag party?’” he joked, smirking at the nearest centuar as its chest rose and fell quickly by Auren’s side.<br/><br/>“Allaran!” returned the dark-haired rider with a grin, swinging his legs over the side of his saddle and dropping to the cobbled ground, yanking his cloak behind him.  “I killed a boar with my lance and a wyvern with a crossbow,” he boasted.  “Quite a tidy trip.  But the silence was the best part.  There are so many people in this city, it’s all I can do sometimes to breath my own air.”<br/><br/>“You may want to keep that tally to yourself.  You’re marrying a dragon, remember?”  Allaran tut-tutted.<br/><br/>Auren snorted right back.  “A crocodile is more of a dragon than a wyvern.  Plague rats with scales and wings, that’s what they are.  Stealing cattle and maiming farmers, if I wiped them to extinction they’d declare me the Saint of all Dragons, for all the false accusations the one garners the other.”<br/><br/>“True, true.  Still, brother, I hope you are quite well and unscathed after your solitary adventures.  Tell me,” he said in a discrete voice that was anything but, “Have you been drinking your potions?”<br/><br/>Auren grimaced, the vile concoctions instantly flashing back in his mind, nose, and tastebuds.  “Yes, damn it,” he grumbled.  Their neon colors, off taste, and the insignia of some goblin alchemist responsible for it all flashing in front of him.  “Damnable things.”<br/><br/>“Did they work?  You did drink all of them, yes?”  Allaran leaned in, genuinely curious.  For his little brother though, it felt like Allaran was pickin on him.<br/><br/>“Yes, they worked,” Auren muttered.  “I can hardly sit in the same saddles anymore.  It’s damn embarassing, not being able to sit down without shielding oneself from view, or feel the fresh breeze without… ugh.  Plus it seems insulting.  I may not be a minotaur in spring but I was never deficient--”<br/><br/>Allaran chuckled, elbowing Auren.  “Such is your lot!  You’ll thank the brewers every night once you’re in the swing of your, ah, royal duties.”<br/><br/>Auren tightened the thick black leather gloves over his hands, a habit he often displayed when he didn’t like where a conversation had gone.  “How is father?” he said abruptly.<br/><br/>“He does well.  You hardly notice speaking through the screens after a while, and he’s got all his weight and power in his voice.  I believe we’ll have him for some winters yet.”<br/><br/>Auren sighed in relief.  “I’m heartily glad of it.  How many are here?”<br/><br/>“Enough that the opening ceremonies can no longer be politely put off without it smacking of cowardice.  I believe they are all in various states of being washed, blessed, and dressed as we speak.  You should do the same… my liege.”<br/><br/>“Deference comes off your tongue with the distinct edge of mockery.  Are you sure you’re cut out to be a priest?  I worry that your prayers may come across as insults and bring doom on us.”<br/><br/>“A mere priest?  I’m a bishop!” Allaran said haughtily, leading his brother inside for a thorough washing, religious rites, and his first night as a bridegroom.  As they crossed the threshold, Auren turned back and gazed out across the city to where the treetops could just be seen over the walls, shaking in a breeze that traveled all the way through the cluttered streets and to the prince himself, feathering through his hair like the tender caress of a love saying goodbye.<br/><br/>Auren relished the last moments of freedom before closing his eyes with a sigh, then chuckling at his own melodramatic pouting.  “Come now, best not be childish about it,” he muttered to himself, turning and going inside.  The next time he crossed that threshold he would be a bachelor no more.<br/>