Robin could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage every time his horse trotted. His eyes were shifting back and forth, from the poorly drawn map in his hand to the view in front of him. Anytime now, he reminded himself. His horse, a strong black horse named Alec, could feel his master fidget, but he was not allowed to cave in to the excitement yet. They didn't walk over this dirt road before. It would be unwise of them if they went astray from the big caravan rolling behind them.
Finally, he caught a glimpse. A thin, wiggly blue line, running across from one horizon to another. From behind, he heard them say, "Welcome to the pearl of the ocean".
It was like a pearl. The castle was glimmering under the sun. The air was breezy and mellow. Robin only heard about this kingdom from books and mouths. Oh, to witness such beauty! They were not lying.
They entered the kingdom without any hassle. The people here were as broad-minded as the ocean. He got down from his horse and took a deep breath. The salt air, the bustling markets besides the sea, and occasional calls of seagulls. He could feel himself humming a tune. The hum formed into words, and absentmindedly, he started to craft a new song. Curious villagers circled him. They watched the young man with awe and whispered. They rarely saw a performer with such a raw and melodious voice.
When Robin reached the end, a round of applause startled him from his trance. They questioned him. Who was he? Where did he come from? Robin bonded with them as if they had been friends for a long time. They came from a faraway place. They traveled a lot. They would probably stay for a few days before moving again.
Soon after, Robin and his group of the caravan found themselves in a luxurious hotel room. One man among the crowd was the owner of this hotel. They got a big discount thanks to Robin's performance, however, he requested that he sing at the party they will be hosting.
The man of the caravan accepted immediately. Robin had no problem as well. After all, singing was his earning source, somehow or another. He thought it would be just another pub performance.
He went downstairs, dressed cozy in a white loose shirt and navy trousers. Instead of what he was used to seeing, he saw men and women, all draped and glimmering in fancy clothes and accessories. It was too late for him to go back and get changed, as if he even had attire that could be compared to their level.
For the first time after leaving his hometown, he felt very underdressed and undermined.