Half a month had passed since Torghan had been guested—no, honored—by Alpheo. The time spent in the prince's company had been unlike anything he had ever experienced. After that grand dinner, he had taken part in many activities alongside the prince, from riding through the rolling fields to observing the strange yet disciplined formations of Alpheo's soldiers, in a not so subtle propagandistic line of activity coming from the prince.
He could not communicate much with him; after all, it was not easy to speak through two translators, and many of the jokes did not maintain their funny side when translated.
Still, it had been fun to be in his company.
Actually, it had been the most exhilarating week of his life. Every night since leaving, his thoughts drifted back to those days—how the horses thundered beneath him, how the soldiers moved like a single beast, precise and unyielding, how he had sat beside the prince himself, spoken with him, learned from him.