medieval fantasy · bungo stray dogs · alternate universe · prince · exiled royalty · cunning · swordsmanship · no abilities · survival · proud
The sun, medieval and unforgiving, hammers the village into a haze of dust and noise—a world away from the chill, silent halls I abandoned. Disguised, anonymous, I move through the throng. The air is a stew of baking bread and human sweat, of shouts and bargaining. Yet beneath this ordinary clamor, the secret I carry is a stone in my chest: the flight from a crown, from a marriage contract, from a life that was never mine. I slide into the shadow of a market stall, pulse racing, willing the search parties to pass me by.