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Name:
Robert "Robbie" Fenn

Age:
20

Gender/Sexuality:
Male // Homosexual

Appearance:
Robbie is tall and lanky. He stands at 5'9 and wears the uniform of the royal wizards, a black cloak with red velvet insides. This conceals a normal white shirt and jeans. He doesn't mind the cloak, as it normally gets very, VERY cold. What puts him apart from the other townsfolk is a black mark that looks almost like a tattoo on his shoulder. This has been there since his birth and is the mark of a magical being.

His face is round and his cheekbones and chin aren't incredibly well defined. He has light brown hair with red highlights and bright blue eyes. His skin is tan, but not dark.

Personality:
Robbie is an extremely social person. He's not heroic or anything, but he does have a tendency to act for the greater good instead of something that is in the moment. His magical prowess does, however, bring out his cockiness from time to time and he can overestimate himself quite easily. He gets nervous from time to time, especially when overly stressed (which is a state he is commonly in now that he is the last wizard) and he sometimes overthinks things because of it.

His temper is something to marvel at; the Prince will tell you that he has only ever seen Robbie's fury once, in an old battle that happened a few years back. During that, he didn't speak a word. He just attacked everything on sight for about ten minutes before going back to the castle looking like the happiest person in the world. Don't piss him off.

Weapons/Specialties:
Magic. His specialty is enchanting weapons.

Crush:
N/A

Other:
-The last known wizard of Haipshire.
-Strongly associated with the royal family, but is not a royal himself. Rather, he works in the castle as the Royal Wizard.

The rain stopped hours later. Andor and Robbie had managed to fall asleep before then (after a lot of talking), though the thunder was anything but comforting to Andor. The rain on the tarp was truly the only part of the storm that was even remotely comforting.

The sun is what woke him up, shining through the plastic tarp onto his face. Andor grunted and moved his hand over his eyes in an attempt to block out the rays before realizing where he was. He sat bolt upright, head whipping around. He located Robbie not far away, conked out on the ground next to the lantern. Drool dripped from the side of his mouth.

Andor made a face and looked down to his clothes. Mud. His white shirt was now splattered with brown while his red leather jacket covered in hardened dirt. His pants and shoes took the worst of it, however, and Andor’s hair was still soaked. My dad is going to murder me.

He looked over to the street and saw a uniformed soldier jog past. His eyes widened and he slapped Robbie awake. “Ow, ow! Hey--”

“Shh,” Andor moved his hand over Robbie’s mouth. “They figured out I’m gone,” He whispered, pointing to the end of the alleyway. Robbie frowned for a split second before his eyes widened. He nodded and pushed Andor’s hand away from his mouth.

“Shouldn’t you go back?” He asked quietly. “So you don’t get in even more trouble?”

Andor nodded slowly. “I should. But that doesn’t mean I want to.”

“Well tough luck. I know for a fact that you’re going to regret it if you don’t,” Robbie replied harshly. Andor sighed.

“You’re right. You’re right,” He shook his head. “But thanks for everything, Robbie. See you again soon?”

“Can you?” Robbie blinked. Andor shrugged.

“I’ll figure it out.”

They smiled at each other. Andor waved and jogged to the end of the alleyway, glancing around quickly. He took off running towards the castle.

He looked around and whistled to a guard. “Right here.”

“Your majesty,” The guard approached him and bowed. Andor couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Why did you leave the castle?”

“Fresh air,” Andor replied simply. “But I’m ready to go back.”

The guard nodded and started marching back towards the castle, with Andor following slowly. He glanced behind him to see Robbie’s face. He waved at Andor, who smiled and waved back shyly.

*~*~*~*

Robbie went back to his alleyway and slipped under the tarp, grabbing his lantern and running out into the open space on the other side of the alleyway. He was now out of the village, in one of the surrounding meadows. The early morning was cold and he tugged on his old parka, zipping it up as he approached an outcrop.

He followed the slope of the outcrop around until he located a small tunnel, held up with wooden beams (though he had taken the liberty of reinforcing the beams with bits of rock and steel he had found). Slipping through the archway leading into the tunnel, he followed the path down until he located a hole in the rocky ground.

Jumping down easily, he felt the normal sensation of falling for a split second before landing softly on a mat. He pulled the same trick he had pulled the previous night, lighting the tip of his finger on fire with the only spell he knew and using that flame on a lantern. He shook out the flame on his finger and lifted the lantern up, surveying his work-in-progress abode.

There wasn’t much room, as this little cave had been an abandoned mineshaft that had suffered a cave in. All that was left was a minecart and its track, with very little room around them. The rocks had made only a fraction of the space usable. Robbie had been cautious in restoring what he could (since the last thing he wanted was another cave in) and dug out very little, reinforcing the wooden beams the same way he had with the last beams.

He had been using the minecart as a sort of storage chest, filled with what little items he had salvaged from his last home. A picture frame, a notebook, a few pens, a blanket. Other than that, he didn’t own much. He was able to nab a few bits of furniture that people had thrown out, like an old and rickety chair, but it was better than nothing. He always told himself that it was better than being put in the orphanage.

He hung the lantern up on a hook and grabbed the notebook and a pen from the minecart, settling down on a towel by the ladder leading back up to the cave. He smiled and opened a page, writing something for the first time since he had turned eight.

*~*~*~*

Andor immediately changed into something clean as soon as he closed the door to his room. He took a few deep breaths and sat down on his bed, tapping his foot. He’d need to sneak out again. If not tonight, sometime soon. He intended to keep his promise to Robbie. Besides, talking with him was the highlight of his year and Andor didn’t want his first real friendship to end just because he wasn’t allowed out into the village.

The door clicking open interrupted Andor’s thoughts and he looked up sharply. “Andor, thank the gods you’re alright,” His mother’s soft voice greeted.

Andor’s mother was a gentle woman, frail in appearance and soft-spoken. Her dark hair was neatly braided on the back of her head and the fine dress she wore covered her unnaturally pale skin. Her eyes were always what comforted Andor the most, however. Pale green and gentle. Never angry, yet always showing emotion.

Andor smiled and ran forward, enveloping her in a hug. “You gave me such a scare, running off in the middle of a big storm like that.”

“I’m sorry, but--”

“Are you hurt? Are you alright?” His mother stepped away quickly, looking him over. Andor shook his head, unable to meet her gaze. She pushed his chin up gently. “...That’s all that matters. That you’re alright.”

“You aren’t mad?”

“I’m not. No. I understand why you ran away and… I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have heard that.”

Andor sniffled, holding back tears again. He just nodded and hugged her again.

After a minute or two, he stepped away. “What about dad?”

“He’s just as worried as I was. He’s waiting down in the hall,” His mother cooed, pushing Andor’s messy hair back behind his ear. He nodded slowly. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Andor nodded, clearing his throat. “Let’s go.”

His mother smiled and stood upright, taking Andor’s hand in hers. They stepped out of his bedroom and went down the long corridor, going down the steps into the throne room.

The King--Andor’s father--was a large and muscular man, having seen his fair share of fights in years long past. His brown hair climbed down and clung to his chin in the makings of a scruffy beard. As Andor and the Queen entered, he looked up from his throne.

“Andor,” He murmured, standing up. Andor looked up to meet his gaze and found this his father’s gaze was not hostile, nor angry, nor relieved. It was thoughtful.

“F-Father,” Andor stuttered, still shaken up by the discussion he overheard from the previous night.

His father looked over him and smiled. “You’re alright,” He extended his arms and Andor found the grip he had on his mother’s hand vanish. He darted forward and hugged him.

“I’m sorry, father, I--”

“It’s alright, Andor, it’s alright,” Andor’s father pat his back slowly. “I understand. But that doesn’t mean that you should have run off like that.”

Andor stepped away, meeting his father’s gaze evenly. He felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder. “I-I know.”

“We apologize for what you heard last night, but running off alone into the village during a storm like that was hardly the right thing to do. You could have gotten hurt or killed,” His father’s tone was firm. Andor just nodded. “The village is a dangerous place for a royal.”

“...I didn’t think so,” Andor piped up quietly. His father raised his eyebrows questioningly, seemingly urging Andor to go on. “The storm was scary, but… I didn’t see anyone with knives or anything like you said.”

“You told him that?” His mother’s hushed whisper made Andor glance up at her.

“To keep him away from the village,” His father replied calmly. “Because it is a dangerous place for a royal. Not all of the town likes us, Andor. Not everyone agrees with us. Going down there unsupervised was--and still is--unwise. You could have been kidnapped or killed.”

Andor flinched and looked down at his shoes. He nodded. “I understand.”

“You will become a part of the people’s lives someday, Andor,” His mother lifted her hand from his shoulder and stood by the King. “You will protect them and learn all of their names eventually. But that day is a long ways away. Your father is right. It is unsafe for you to go out into the village. Please don’t sneak out again, okay sweetie?”

Andor looked up and nodded. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Thank you,” His father smiled. “We love you Andor.”

“And we just want you safe,” His mother added, stooping down and kissing him on the head.

Andor smiled and stepped up to stand by them.

“Your royal highnesses,” A new voice greeted from the end of the room. Andor turned around to look. “A letter. A young commoner dropped it off at the gates this morning.”

“Bring it here,” His father commanded. The knight stepped forward and handed a small, folded up piece of lined paper to the King. He unfolded it and almost immediately crumpled it.

“Just another child of the kingdom asking to change something trivial,” He scoffed dismissively, discarding the paper. “Come, Andor, it is nearly time for your battle training.”

“I’ll be down soon,” Andor assured him, watching his parents step out of the throne room. As soon as he was alone, Andor kneeled by the trash can and located the crumpled up letter.

Andor,
I hope that you didn’t get yelled at too bad for everything that happened last night. I was thinking. Maybe next time we meet I could show you the place I’ve been trying to spruce up and make my house? It’s a little dusty and dirty, but maybe you could help me turn it around. Or you could… You know. Forget that you ever met me if you can’t get out again.
Sincerely,
Robbie
(P.S, I hope you can read this. I haven’t written anything in awhile.)

A few words were misspelled, but Andor hardly cared. He slipped the note into his pocket and jogged out of the throne room, deciding that he needed to sneak out again, promise or no promise.