The scenery was not the most beautiful she ever seen.
The Southern Isles was, at its best, a barren land with little to no green, plagued with irregular terrain and a sea of black rocks with no beaches, nothing to compare with the lushfull vegetation and full colors of realms like Corona. But the incessant howling wind gave it a sense of solitude buried under this harsh environment, something she was familiar with and finding it almost endearing.
“ So, you are not from here… What brings you to our little paradise, lady? ” the chauffeur chuckled, breaking the monotone sound of the gallope.
“ Oh, you can call me Agatha, sir. “ she replied, finally awake from her daydreaming state. “ I heard about a vacancy at the kitchen’s castle! ”
“ The castle, uh? ” the old man became serious, focusing on just conduct his hay carriage.
She stretches her arms, starting to feeling sore from the long journey, a little conversation would rise her from her slumber.
“ Yes, that’s why i asked for a ride to the city, i’m going to work as a cleaner there. ”
They were slowly descending a small mountain path leading to a vast ravine. It was the first time Agatha have see grass in the island since she landed on the small quay of the fishing village.
“ I see… In that case i welcome you then, my lady, and also say to not let our noble rulers give you a false impression of the good people of The Southern Isles! ”
He seemed like he wanted to say more, but became silent under his moustache again. Agatha shift her body so she could move closer to him, inquisitive.
“ What do you mean? ”
“ My, you really aren’t from around here... ” before he could continue, Agatha heard a loud sound of laughs echoing.
She narrowed her eyes, searching the horizont, until she saw a big wood stable in the distance. There was four men in there, and while she could not see them perfectly, she noticed the three bigger men throwing something at the smaller one, who seems to be shoveling manure on a already full carriage.
“ Who are they…? ” she asks, already forgetting the previous conversation.
“ They, my lady, are our beloved princes of the Southern Isles! “ the man’s words drip with derision “ Well, four of them.”
“ What are they doing with that young man? ”
The chauffeur frowns and startles the horse, suddenly felling the need to make haste.
“ That’s Hans Westergaard, thirteenth son of Your Majesty King Claus and thus far the youngest heir, but the royal family dishonored him. ” he spat on the ground “ Good riddance! ”
As they pass through the path next to the stable, Agatha takes a closer look of how the older brothers were pointing and screaming non sense at a dirty man with torn princely attire, while he continues to work, ignoring the mockering.
“ His own family?… Why? ” her curiosity ignites.
The old man raises her an eyebrow.
“ Ever heard of Arendelle? ”