Glass

Mendessa City only seemed to grow more and more with every turn. On one street, a town square with detailed architecture and open space, and on the next, a crowded hub of merchants and aristocrats. And that was not even considering the places Sir Rafael and the others refused to take me - the dimly lit pathways leading to the unfavourable districts of the city which were teeming with thieves and vagabonds. I was kept on a strict path, even outside of my father's territory. But even still, I felt as though I had been given a new pair of lungs, and the city air was revitalising every part of me.

The one thing I could not shake off, though, was the watching eyes. It was impossible to blend in when I had an entourage of royal soldiers and their flag-festooned horses surrounding me. Every now and then, I heard my name, but surprisingly not in a jeering way. But it was in the same way commoners would call out to my mother and father on the rare instances of them making public appearances. Adoration. Despite my nerves, I was still the future king of Mendessa to them. A part of me was put at ease, while the rest of me still loathed all the attention.

"You're gonna have to get used to this." Rafael had said.

We came to an arch which led us out onto the port bridge. By then, my legs were aching, and the sun was already high in the sky. I hadn't realised the time that had passed while I was taking in all the sights I previously had only dreamed of. To the soldiers, this had barely been a morning stroll, and they remained just as lively as when we left. Even the young Zolin, although he had saved most of his energy by not talking so much.

The water below sparkled in the mid-afternoon Sun, looking almost clean enough to be drinkable. However, the ships in the waves were in varying states of cleanliness. I stared at them in awe regardless - even the ones which were falling apart or looked old enough to have brought cargo to my grandfather. The ones with chipped paint or violent scrapes; ones which told stories of facing off against perilous storms and sea creatures. New or old, small or gigantic - every single one captured my imagination, and once again it was like stepping into one of my books, about to set sail on a grand adventure.

I looked enviously at the men in tattered old clothes carrying heavy barrels that had once touched a whole other land. I noticed many of them spoke in languages I'd never heard before, and even more so than the city itself, every new individual looked more unique than the last. I was in a single place where the entire world had decided to come and meet.

For once, in the midst of the busy hustling, we were not recognized straight away. I was just another man again.

"Leave the horses. I, Sir Rafael, and Sir Zolin shall escort His Highness to the vicinity. The rest of you will question surrounding people who may have witnessed our maiden going to the Lagos Glassblowers before the ball."

"Yes, sir." The soldiers answered, immediately taking action. I was glad that Emiliano had taken the initiative, given I was so occupied in the port's dynamism.

Not so far over the bridge, the Lagos Glassblowers was within sight, and stood out among the buildings encompassing it. While the rest were made of the same grey stone, the glassblowers were decorated with a spectrum of shapes and colours. Wind chimes stuck out from above the immaculate stained glass windows, making a quiet melody as we came to the multi-coloured door.

"How magnificent." Emiliano wondered at the life-sized glass statue of a quetzal standing proudly at the edge of the rooftop.

In the shade, the doorknob was a shock of cold when I twisted it, but the inside glow was warm enough to thaw my hand immediately.

The heat and noise of the grumbling kiln could be heard as soon as I opened the door. Small chandeliers of every colour hung from the ceiling, the light bouncing off every single one of them to create a kaleidoscope on the walls. On both sides of the shop, shelves displaying miniature glass statuettes glistened and sparkled in an array of patterns. I did not dare to touch any of it, knowing that if I did, I'd find a way to accidentally destroy it. The desk at the end, where a shopkeeper ought to have stood, held a beautiful vase, decorated with a pattern akin to the wings of a monarch butterfly, and inside it, a grand bouquet made completely of opaque glass marigolds.

"Hello?" I said, surprised to still have breath after seeing such a beautiful place.

"By order of the prince, show yourself!" Rafael bellowed rather harshly.

From behind the desk, a tiny head popped up.

"The prince?" A childlike voice spoke excitedly. "Wait here! I'll get my grandpapa!"

He disappeared within a curtain of beads, calling out for his grandfather, and soon enough, a man with thinning curls and an eye patch came to greet us.

"Look, grandpapa! It's Prince Andres! He's really here!" The little boy, no older than eight, pestered.

"Your highness." Mr Lagos' voice was weak and hoarse, but he tried all of his might to bow to me. "What can I do for you?"

"We are looking for someone. Someone who may have come here." I told him. Carefully, Zolin presented the glass slipper. "Is there anyone who purchased this from your shop recently?"

Mr Lagos' eye widened.

"May I?"

Zolin turned for me to grant permission. I was apprehensive.

"Yes, you may."

Mr Lagos took the shoe and held it close to his face, taking in every detail with a sense of childlike wonder. Even his grandson, and the grandchildren who were peeking from behind the bead curtain, held their breath, mesmerised in its beauty.

"This is an incredible piece indeed." Mr Lagos was almost inaudible. "If this had come from my family, I would be exceptionally proud. Felipe, get your mother. She would know who made this."

The little boy scampered away, followed by a small crowd of excitable siblings and cousins, and within a couple of minutes, he returned with his heavily pregnant mother.

"Your highness." She said. Having not expected such guests, she wrapped her cotton robe tighter around her chest and patted down the yellow dress beneath it.

"Marta, do you know if any one of us created this shoe?"

Mr Lagos did not let go of it, but Marta took a close look at every angle.

"It's beyond anything I have ever seen." She said, which made dread sink in my stomach. "No, I don't believe this was made by us."

In a last ditch attempt, I asked,

"Do you know if you ever sold it anyway? Did anyone come in and purchase it?"

Marta shook her head.

"No. We only sell what we make. And this shoe doesn't look like it's been repaired in any way by us either."

I sighed.

"I understand."

Emiliano was occupied with the tiny glass alebrijes on the shelves, but he was still listening.

"Have you had any young women come into your shop? This past week perhaps?"

Mr Lagos racked his brain, but Marta looked less optimistic.

"I can't seem to remember anyone under the age of thirty here for a long time," she said, "our customers tend to be people looking to decorate their family home. You'd be hard pressed to find a young woman in here. Myself included." She chuckled a little, but nobody else did.

I tried to think of any other questions, but it seemed the Lagos family were certain that I had no hope. Defeated, I nodded to them.

"Thank you for your help regardless. If you do think of anything at all, please inform us."

Mr Lagos handed back the glass slipper.

"If it were not for this being evidence, I would pay good money to buy this piece from you. I don't mean to pry, but who exactly are you looking for who may have owned such a fantastic work of art?"

I supposed to most, the rumour had already spread. There was no use lying to avoid attention on the matter.

"A woman I met at a ball last night. She disappeared. But… I intend to make her my bride."

Marta's face softened.

"Well, I wish you luck, your highness." She said.

"Would you like to take anything from our shop? On the house, of course." Mr Lagos said, "Consider it an early wedding gift."

I blushed beetroot.

"No thank you, Mr Lagos. But perhaps I will return soon. It really is a beautiful shop."

"Best of luck, your highness. Gentlemen."

Rafael nodded back at Mr Lagos and turned his heel. Reluctantly, I followed behind him and the others. Suddenly, everything outside lost its wonder, and for the rest of the journey back, I barely spoke a word.