Emon sat alone in his anteroom playing Flagwar against himself. His green pieces were in a winning position as they had made advancement to take and consolidate positions by placing their flags in the spaces of his yellow pieces.
Emon had taken to wearing a biretta to cover his slowly growing bald hair. The biretta was blue with stripes of red and a golden feather was hoisted on it. It covered his hair entirely but not a fraction of his shame.
Since he returned from Vestelle, he hasn't left the castle. And since then, he had not seen a whiff of Talia, a source of both joy and sorrow, but the shame she bestowed on him was much greater.
He dipped a biscuit into his dark brown tea—a revolting eating habit to the nobility, but the High-Prince did it anyway. As Emon raised the biscuit from the tea-laden cup, a few drops of tea fell from the biscuit to stain his brown breeches. As he swallowed the tea-wet biscuit his face gave no indication that he savoured what he ate.
Setting the plate of biscuits aside, he quickly grabbed a handkerchief to clean the stain on his breeches. It didn't make it any better. It was the case of a small kingdom growing to become a large empire.
Emon scowled then threw the handkerchief on the table. Following the throw, Emon stretched his arm to reset its path. It was but a needle away from entering the cup of tea. Though unsavoury, Emon would rather finish up his meal.
The right wall from the door was where the portraits rested. Sixteen of them, each taken at the end of every year. A symbol of his growth—each of them contained the figure of Emon smiling. For the next portrait, Emon was not sure he would be smiling.
Emon removed his gaze from the portraits and the blue and red wall that served as their background. Taking a mixture of sorts that sat on the table, he poured it inside his tea—but not without hesitation. Juhsap Nesteys, his Third Hand, had procured it for him.
Mixing the brown tea with the grey contents of the potion-like mixture, Emon scowled. He hated medications of all kinds but this one had to do. He wanted to overcome his headaches, but not at all cost. Paying any price would result in further drowning his relationships.
Emon raised the white ceramic cup hesitatingly. Though only filling a cup, the contents of the cup seemed endless. Closing his eyes and clenching his left hand—Emon drank from the cup, quickly emptying its contents.
After cleaning the side of his mouth, Emon dropped the cup with a look of irritation. "Juhsap!" Emon shouted. Moments later, the chestnut-haired man appeared, casting a wondering gaze about the room with his violet eyes.
"Was it made from a mixture of dog shit and bitter fruit?" Emon asked unseriously. "I've never tasted anything more bitter," he added. Juhsap scratched his hair with his right hand. "High-Prince. There's only so much one can do with as little information as you gave me," he argued.
Emon raised his head then smiled. "That's right. You cannot know," Emon replied. "Tell Netus Grey, High-Prince. Or someone else. I can't have you dying on me," Juhsap said with a serious look.
"Since you were but a decade old, I have guarded you. I swore to give my life for you. I'm your third hand. And yet, you've sidelined me. Risking your life from Damattis to the very heart of Vestelle. I deserve it." Juhsap choked out, with a tinge of anger.
Emon rose to his feet. "I don't understand." Juhsap smiled sadly. "We swore, all of us Third Hands. To protect you and keep your secrets. And should we fall, we must fall with you," Juhsap touched the hilt of his sword. "Our service ends at death and no sooner. If we are found undesirable by our master, our life must be forfeit. Our master's secrets must die with us."
Emon shook his head. "I would never want that, Juhs." "So the secrets I must die for have to do with lechery," Juhsap rubbed his face. "I might also be a lecher. And a drunk. At times. But I do have honour, you gave me that honour when you chose me seven years ago. What a day that was," Juhsap continued after interrupting Emon.
Emon opened his mouth but closed it immediately. He opened it again but hesitated to speak. "I am not long for this world. Even if I live long enough, I would only be a shell of what I was," Emon touched his forehead. "This pain, it will make me a mad man. And then, that will be the end of me," he dropped his hand to point at Juhsap.
"You must be at my side to kill me, should I become a danger to others. You seem to want my secrets and to do my bidding. Then I will curse you with my death."
"You may leave now, Juhs," Emon ordered. "No," Emon's Third Hand replied dismissively. "I won't make the mistake of leaving you to your own devices," Juhsap said, firmly.
"Well, then. You're tethered to me. Your charge comes from the order of the Emperor. There's naught I can do about your presence, really." Emon reached for the sword Denryn made for him but it was no longer there.
"I have an appointment with Eccih. Do as you wish," Emon left the room with Juhsap trailing behind him.
Eccih's wide figure rested on one of the walls of the training yard. "You're not dressed for training, Emon," Eccih said as his blue gaze held Emon's approaching figure.
The training yard was quite rowdy today. There were several people sparring in the large training ground. A space was kept empty on the left end of the yard so that Emon could train. But their staring eyes made him feel naked already; why not just train in their midst, he thought.
Emon studied Juhsap who seemed to have taken keen interest in those sparring. "You can leave me, Juhs. Surely you want to train with your brothers." Though Juhsap was one of the strongest fighters in Central Velecor, being one of the Tredecim eluded him thus far.
Juhsap blinked his eyes twice and made a smirk. "High-Prince, I rather watch over your training. Lest you run away." Emon rolled his eyes. "I won't be running. Not today."
Juhsap carried two wooden swords and passed them to Emon and Eccih. Eccih looked at them, wondering. "We won't be using these today. You've lost the sword Lord Denryn made for you, no?" Eccih asked without removing his eyes from the wooden swords. "I have," Emon replied promptly.
"Good. We will work on that. And the thing you told me about months ago," Eccih said as he led Emon to the left end of the training yard.
As they reached towards the end, Eccih placed a hand on Juhsap's chest and ordered him to stop. Obeying immediately, Juhsap took a defensive position at the entrance.
Juhsap's magenta gaze studied Emon studiously. He was a man in the middle of his twenties, leashed to a prince who seems to want nothing to do with him. The two men walked away from Juhsap's earshot before commencing their training.
Eyes glowing blue like lightning, Eccih erected a barrier with only he and Emon inside. "In your veins run the blood of the Regnivore and his fathers before him and his sons after him," he paused to clear his throat.
"Your father is presumed to be one of the strongest in the realm. Your lifeforce is therefore of the highest quality. You know this." Emon gave Eccih a tired look. It was not the first time Eccih spouted "nonsense" like this.
"You are capable of all what I'm capable of and all what I dream to be capable of. But most importantly, you can do what I can't even dream of," Eccih studied the barrier he erected.
"With Cession aiding me, I erected this barrier to be totally useless from the outside, in exchange not even you could probably break it." Emon strode to touch the barrier but it answered by giving him pain. "Oh, I see." Emon's painful voice murmured as he rubbed his palm.
"I want you to create a barrier. Or rather, I want you to make a barrier your sword." Emon's eyes widely opened. "That's not..." "possible right?" Eccih interrupted him. "In one of your missions you eluded being aged to death. So how is this not possible?"
"I will try but don't expect me to produce resul..." "Due to the divine trait granted to you, you can attune your lifeforce to that of others. So how is this impossible to you?" Emon stood, motionless, trying to find an answer but could not.
"Very well then. I will try," Emon finally responded with the resolve he had at times. According to Eccih's theory, Emon would first have to create a normal-size barrier then reduce it until it is like a bitten sword.
The first barrier Emon erected was big enough to cover him. But according to Eccih, it was impressive. After hours of work, Emon was able to reduce the entire barrier size to that of a large club.
One thing was certain, Emon was a fast learner and incredibly lucky. But it wasn't enough this time. The barrier wrapped around his hand. Or rather, the large club wrapped around his arm. With it in this state, it could be useful but it would lack the mobility that would be needed in extreme cases.
What Eccih desired was a slick, sharp, light and powerful sword that Emon could hold in his palms. But clearly, after hours of practice, Emon had reached his limit.
Emon was bleeding from the nose and pressing his head with his left hand. He was clearly in great pain as showcased by his face. Yet, he tried to maintain the barrier-sword or barrier-club—but to no avail. He fell face-first on the stony ground and the barrier dissipated.
Seeing this, Eccih released his technique and allowed Juhsap to enter. Juhsap ran as fast as he could, imbuing his body and paving his steps with lifeforce to let him reach Emon in no time.
As he attempted to carry Emon away from the training ground, Emon resisted and spoke. "No. No, please. Let me be. They mustn't see me like this. They mustn't know." Immediately, Eccih erected a barrier that made the things inside the barrier invisible. In exchange, the barrier could be invaded by anyone.
Luckily for Emon, no one noticed Juhsap's assassin-like movements and no one was sure to go to that corner of the training yard.