Alia made her way into the nearby village market, a routine she followed every so often to restock their food supplies. Despite the passage of many years, she remained cautious, shrouded in a concealing cloak, unwilling to take any chances of being recognized.
As she approached a bustling vegetable stall, her attention unwittingly gravitated toward the conversation between two men also awaiting their turn with the stall owner.
"It's about time we had a proper King in these parts. That Queen hasn't done a thing for us," one of the men exclaimed, his discontent clear.
"But let's not forget that the Queen's son is next in line for the throne," the other man countered.
"I'd welcome just about anyone over that woman," the first man vehemently stated.
"Then you're a fool." His companion shot back.
