Once upon a time in Far Southeastern land, there was a tiny little kingdom. People in this kingdom were always happy and smiling, because the sun was always shining. Believe it or not, it was always summer in this kingdom; and as people in this kingdom were not the most creative creature in the universe, they called this land The Kingdom of Summer.
And there were King and Queen of Summer, and they had four children: Princess Cinnamon, Princess Lavender, Princess Violet, and the Crown Prince Grey (have I told you that the people in this kingdom were not really creative? So were the queen and the king, they just picked up names from the colour chart *shrug*). Well, until she was 8, Princess Cinnamon was the Crown Princess because she was the eldest, but when the Crown Prince was born, all the kingdom’s attention were switched to him. She was furious.
Well, not for long. Then she realised that this might be what she had always wanted. Less attention, more freedom.
You see, in the Kingdom of Summer, although the people were not creative, they valued smart people. However, Princess Cinnamon was not the smartest girl in the Kingdom. The Queen kept telling her that she was a disgrace for failing to recognise the star pattern (mathematics haven’t been recognised in the curriculum). Instead of learning the star pattern and movement like Princess Violet or studying the buildings like Princess Lavender, (Crown Prince is a Crown Prince no matter how dumb he could be; but unfortunately he was incredibly smart *shrug*), Princess Cinnamon likes reading and listening to music. King and Queen said, she must have been spelled by a black magic from the outcasts.
Princess Cinnamon first encounter with the outcasts were when she was 14. She was having a walk in the town market to buy another book when she heard a street musician singing in a song in a language she had never heard before. The words were quizzical, the melody were melancholic. Suddenly she found herself standing among the passers by, and looking at the street musician. He smiled at her.
“Princess Cinnamon, we must hurry. I saw some guards around, I think the king is looking for you,” Coco, her servant (the word secretary and personal assistant haven’t been found either) broke her attention.
She hurriedly approached the street musician, and asked him when he would be there again to sing.
“Everyday, milady. Just after the market open.” He made a dramatic bow, not knowing who he was talking to.
Princess Cinnamon tossed three gold coins to his bowl; made that lucky street musician almost die of heart attack. That was as much as he could earn for one week.
So the Princess went to the market once again, this time without Coco escorting her. She sneaked out through the window and torn her dress a little. She knew the Queen would be very angry if she saw her like this, but she needed to see the street musician in the Market Street (you know, it is impossible to just browse in the internet and download the song at that period of time).
There he was, playing with his little banjo and sing beautifully. The melody was not melancholic, it was lively and happy; but the words were as queer as the last time she heard it. She threw three more golden coins to his bowl, and he stopped singing.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Who are you?” she replied. Of course it was unusual for her to have someone who does not recognise her. But oh well, she’s only a princess, not the Crown Prince.
“I am Banjo, the musician,” he said, then waited for the Princess to introduce herself.
“I am Cinnamon, the princess,” she replied. Awkwardly. She knew ‘princess’ is not a profession, but she did not know what she was, other than ‘a princess’.
Banjo could not hide his shocked face, and without his realising, he was staring impolitely to Cinnamon face.
“Please don’t do that Mr. Banjo the musician. I came here to talk to you about the song you were singing…”
Banjo surprised by what he have just heard. He realised that in this kingdom, not so many people would appreciate the music like he did. They would be busy trading or building, or inventing something. Some outcasts, of course selling books and make music sometimes; but they have to work somewhere in the restaurant or the dock to earn extra money. But a princess came to the street just to listen to music, wasn’t that so bizarre?
“What language is that? What were you singing? You don’t seem like you came from around here… ” Princess Cinnamon stopped talking, and started to feel that she have just talked too much. She waited Banjo to tell his story.