Quintin shook his head, and he took in the longest breath that he had thus far. Then released it.
"He has a point, Jhela." Quintin looked at her directly. "I can practice all this perfectly. Know every word of prayer and every movement. And still not be prepared for anything."
The silence that followed was heavier. Jhela's lower lip thinned as she nibbled on its inside. And her jaw worked for a moment before she spoke softly. "And still, maybe you should take it more seriously while you still have time. Perhaps what you learn, through what you are experiencing now, will help in what is to come."
For a moment, none of them spoke, but Quintin's shoulders shifted, as if the weight he had momentarily shed returned.
"Perhaps." He said, finally.
Jhela's expression shifted, her mouth opened and closed. Her hands separated, with one lifting slightly, then they fell back to her side.
"There are three more days." Quintin's voice was lighter now. He turned away from both of them and resumed walking. "Priest Hiang will ensure I know the procedure by heart, you need not worry."
Yanis and Jhela lagged a little, and briefly, they shared an inexplicable glance. She hurried after him first. Then Yanis followed, wondering if he could be dismissed yet as he walked shortly behind Jhela.
Eventually, they reached the junction where Yanis's patrol route diverged from the Emperor's path.
A torch nearby crackled slightly. The corridors were darker than before, and the moon was much higher, glancing through a window high above Quintin's back that blocked its light from reaching Yanis.
A light, cold breeze came in through the windows that were against the opposite wall. It was well into the evening by now, so all the warmth of the day had been gone for some time, and that faintly cold breeze brushed against them.
Quintin paused, and when he turned to face Yanis, there was a different look in his expression with regards to him. He was much taller than Yanis, and with the way that the light where they stood was, with torches having been lit through the corridors by the servants as the night encroached, it almost made it seem as though Yanis' shadow was consumed by his.
"Thank you for the company, Yanis." He said the name with a slight measurement to how he spoke, as if committing it to memory. "I may call on you again before the evening is out."
Quintin gave way to the faintest of smiles that was glanced by the brush of one of his white strands of hair.
Yanis thanked the relief with a slight bow, "Understood, Your Majesty."
Yanis watched Quintin walk into the depths of the palace alongside Jhela for a few seconds, as he sighed faintly, finally relieved of Jhela's occasional, poisonous look.
The eastern wing that he had to be patrolling was more than just a single floor even though it was already on an upper floor. They - the younger guards and the mercenaries - were given the grunt work of combing through all the higher floors above where the seniors where. And Yanis found it awe inspiring how massive he found Alonellónë was.
He polished abominable staircases with the soles of his boots so much that when Quintin's summons came, he felt relief so strong that it almost felt bitter after only some time earlier he had been thinking that it was best Quintin and he go their separate ways for a little, to let the young woman calm down.
The summons came a few more hours into the evening, during a time where the commotions of the palace had begun tapering off.
Yanis was midway through what could only be an undefined number of circuits by now, and the bell had tolled.
On one hand, if he were just to abandon his post and hide away somewhere, he might easily fulfil his 'survival' condition.
On the other hand, to get the best rewards, as other players had said there would be, he likely had to contribute in some significant enough way. Not to mention that personally, risks be damned, he could not stomach hiding in a closet for safety through the night.
Thus, Yanis had decided to fight. Perhaps not the assassins as they were likely awakened since they could get through Khehlun, but those other things in the darkness? He would commit himself.
As he walked through these thoughts, a servant found him. It was a man in palace livery who delivered the message.
"Good evening," The servant with bright yellow irises began as they stopped within a corridor well-lit with torches, where other guards passed by, as some servants were rolling around with carts carrying trays of used serving plates. "You are Yanis, the mercenary, yes?"
The area that the guard had found him in was only a number of strides away from the shortcut that Hunya had mentioned earlier.
"Yes, that is me," Yanis said, "What might you need?"
As they spoke, without any ceremony the female servants that were driving their carts went behind the tapestry; a secret door opened, and Yanis felt the faintest glimmers of repentance looking down into the path they were headed.
"The Emperor has requested your presence in the private study." The servant paused a moment, and considered his words, then added in a slightly more rushed mutter, "Immediately, if convenient."
Yanis focused back onto him at those words. The phrasing was polite, but the servants' look and tone made it clear that convenience was not actually a factor.
Well, it was; probably? Maybe? It depended on how dictatorial Quintin might be. Yanis did not quite think that Quintin was such a fool, but it wasn't odd to find a leader who blamed those alongside them for whatever inconveniences came about.
However, regardless of that, ultimately, it being convenient that he goes immediately was also doing a favour to the man that delivered the message. And the look of him made it clear to Yanis that he was hoping he understood that.
So, he amiably followed him through corridors that grew older as they went, in terms of their construction.
Stonework shifted from the more precisely cut blocks to those that looked more weathered, with a different mortar composition and darker colour to them. The torches in this area had to burn a little brighter to properly illuminate it.
'One of the places build in a different century, huh...' Yanis thought as the fingers of one of his hands brushed the walls and the stone very so faintly crumbled under the touch.
The servant continued to guide him a short while longer and Yanis didn't quite know what he would begin to say, to satisfy the burning curiosity that he saw in the man's gaze at him whenever he caught him glancing over at him. So, he only kept quiet, and the man withdrew without a word as Yanis knocked against the study door, embraced by torchlight in a hallway, with simply the accompaniment from the sounds of his knocking and the footfall of a leaving servant.
"You may enter, Yanis."
He heard Quintin's voice and opened the door, allowing warm light to spill into the hallway.
"Excuse her," Quintin said immediately from within, "she is just finishing up."
The words drew Yanis's attention as he stepped inside. To the left, off to the side of the low fire in the hearth, Jhela stood at a worktable near the wall that was elevated to an angle. Her hands moved quickly, draping a length of dark cloth over something propped on the surface.
'A canvas?' Yanis realised, and remembered the faint markings he had seen and thought to have been ink. He hadn't seen the painting itself but he saw the colours - black and white mixed in with the gradations of grey.
The cloth settled over the painting, and Jhela's shoulders stiffened.
She didn't look at him, and her hands smoothed the fabric, then adjusted the edges unnecessarily, before she turned and still without looking at him crossed the study towards the side table near the window where cups and a pot of tea were already arranged.
Yanis let the door click shut behind himself, shutting the faint cold from the hallway out.
"Good evening, Your Majesty," he gave his greeting with a slight bow.
Quintin sat at a desk covered in papers, with his coat discarded over the back of his chair and his sleeves rolled at the elbows.
"Good evening, Yanis."
The exhaustion Yanis had noticed earlier had deepened and the shadow beneath the young Emperor's eyes was darker now.
A pen rested in his hand, but the paper before him was blank, and the ink on the nib had dried.
The study was smaller than Yanis had expected. The right was lined with bookshelves that ran parallel to the walls and through about half of the room with spines in several languages - all of which he could not read - and a fire, off to the left, burned low in the hearth, as well as Jhela's workspace.
She stood near the window against the wall ahead and to the side of the main desk, arranging the cups and the pot of tea on the side table. Yanis found her embarrassment amusing, but he didn't let it show.
Quintin rose from the desk and moved toward the window, where the light of the evening moon glimmered in. He accepted the cup Jhela offered and held it without drinking, watching the steam curl against the cold glass.
"Earlier, you called the Blessing a burden," he began. "In the corridor."