《Asymmetric Warfare》


 Prologue

    CW: This book contains violent imagery and mentions of self-harm.


    One stood alone, surrounded by a gruesome sea of bodies. He was leaning on his sword, his chest slowly rising up and down as he took in this sight. Bodies, limbs, and innards were scattered across the field, piled on the ground, slung over crimson-spattered trees.


    Though his sword was sharp, and his arm well-trained, the blood that had dried along its blade was that of its owner. His arm was criss-crossed with deliberate markings, and his head swam with the curses and spells that he had repeated. Over and over. Each phrase had been wielded as a weapon, devastatingly deadly, horrifyingly accurate.


    The person stumbled across the battlefield, surveying the broken bodies at his feet. There was one he sought in particular.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    The price for one¡¯s dignity is a heavy one. It would be too simple to calculate it by counting one¡¯s scars or victims. The darkness, the regret, the burden...who could say if these outweigh hopelessness? When decades of desperation force one¡¯s hand, who takes the blame for the destruction that ensues, for the cycle of violence that unleashes?


    How does the saying go¡ªthat love and hate are two sides of the same coin? Had one witnessed such a massacre, they could perhaps say the same of love and war. Both begin with small acts of reciprocity, exchanges paid in blood and heartbeats, and escalate into frenzied campaigns over hegemony and sovereignty. And neither can boast the definite conclusions only found in fairytales. Victory is fleeting, momentary, as is death.


    But, enough with such involved metaphors. Love and war are nothing more nor less than acts of rebellion, of defiance. In few do the rebellious spirits necessary to spark such chaos reside.

 Chapter 1: Two Teachers, One Student

    Chapter 1: Two Teachers, One Student


    Zen didn¡¯t consider himself to be particularly patient nor impatient, but he couldn¡¯t help feeling antsy just sitting on the dirt floor of the classroom. He occasionally scribbled down the content of the teacher¡¯s lecture, but his mind was elsewhere, imagining all the different ways he could disrupt the class. He could feign illness, or pick a fight with someone irritating, or plan something even more elaborate with his friend Ayue, who sat attentively to his side. Though Zen was a mischievous youth, he bottled up his humor and roguery. Ayue, on the other hand, was gifted in spinning intricate tales and carrying out shenanigans. However, he actually liked sitting in class and listening to the teacher drone on, so he probably wouldn¡¯t cooperate. A shame.


    Zen¡¯s wish was granted half an hour later, only minutes before his eyes would have begun slowly blinking with sleepiness. Three uniformed men stood at the classroom door. They were clearly from the capital, Tanac, dressed crisply in the Tangi colors of blue and white. Sharp swords hung at their waists. Zen¡¯s mouth instinctively curled into a scowl.


    The teacher clasped his hands together anxiously. ¡°Yes? What brings you here today?¡± The village was used to receiving patrols from the capital, ostensibly to keep an eye out for beasts or vengeful spirits, but entering the small school building was another matter altogether.


    ¡°We¡¯ve come to conscript the next generation of trainees,¡± one responded. He read from a list in his hands, ¡°Zen, Pannen, Ayue, Auring.¡±


    ¡°W-what? You must be mist- I mean, these children are only 14 and 15!¡±


    ¡°The capital has enacted a new law. The new age for conscription is 14. This is for your benefit¡ªyour children will be even more skilled and learned upon their return. Now, if you please, we would like to return before sundown.¡±


    Zen glanced over at Ayue, eyes dark. Ayue looked back at him silently. He wasn¡¯t quite as displeased as Zen. Though he shared some of his reservations, Ayue had always wanted to travel to the capital. He¡¯d heard stories about it from his older brother, even knowing that his brother shared the same propensity to exaggerate.


    Zen had heard these stories, too, but he had heard more stories about the hostility of the Tangi people towards others and the brutal punishments the officers would dole out to trainees. He had heard from his parents that these officers would view him and other Gahi children as animals.


    And so, Zen was practically bristling as he sat there. Ayue nervously tugged at his sleeve, whispering, ¡°Get up! They¡¯re looking at us!¡±


    In a few strides, one of the other officers had reached the two boys and yanked them up by their collars. ¡°Gather your things. You may only take clothing and food. No weapons, no books, no keepsakes.¡± It took all of Zen¡¯s willpower to swallow the itch to retaliate against this guard, who had the nerve to manhandle him like so.


    Zen walked over to his home, a small wooden building with a cozy thatched roof. A magnolia tree snaked up the side, its broad leaves and white flower petals decorating the ground. When he opened the door, his parents were standing in front of him. They had obviously heard the commotion and had hurried to pack a bag of essentials for him. His mother¡¯s eyes were red and cloudy, and she pulled him in a tight embrace. ¡°Come back to us safely,¡± she whispered.


    Zen nodded, clutching at her tightly. He squeezed his eyes in an attempt to stem the flow of tears. His throat felt too thick to respond, so he just held her, burying his face in her warmth.


    His father laid a hand on Zen¡¯s shoulder. ¡°The capital will try to make you forget who you are. I know we don¡¯t speak Gahi anymore, but your teacher and I have worked hard to educate you. Speak it with Ayue. Don¡¯t let them hear you.¡± His father had always taken their Gahi background seriously. He also wasn¡¯t great at communicating his emotions. His default was to lecture. Zen had already sworn to them that he¡¯d keep the language alive, even though his father had bored him to death countless times by making him practice the script over and over instead of letting him do anything actually fun. Now, he could only nod vigorously, afraid that his voice would waver pathetically.


    His mother ruffled his hair, pulling away. ¡°Be a good boy, now. Don¡¯t keep them waiting. It won¡¯t be too long before we see you again.¡± Three years.


    Zen took the bag from his father¡¯s hands. ¡°I love you,¡± he whispered¡ªthe loudest he could muster being so choked up¡ªas he stepped out of the house.


    To Zen¡¯s relief, the officers weren¡¯t going to force them all to walk back to the capital. A couple of carts were being pulled along by a set of majestic-looking horses. His fleeting feelings of relief were immediately replaced by resentment once more; this isn¡¯t a show of goodwill¡ªthey¡¯re just too lazy to walk. It appeared that this village was the last stop; a few of the carts were filled with unfamiliar sullen boys and girls. Zen quietly followed Ayue into an empty one, his eyes unfocused and staring at the space between his feet. Ayue was uncharacteristically quiet; it seemed his excitement had been replaced with apprehension.


    And thus they sat for the entire ride, Zen hunched over with his head almost touching his knees, and Ayue gazing into the woods that blurred by. The silence was eventually broken by whispers of anticipation as Tanac came into view. The sun hadn¡¯t yet set, and its light illuminated the tall stone buildings from behind, casting a shimmering red hue.


    ¡°It looks like a painting,¡± Ayue whispered.


    Zen snorted. More like hell. As the cart approached the city¡¯s gates, their demon guides brought the horses to a halt and instructed the boys and girls to descend. They huddled together in a group, surrounded by these devils masquerading as guards, and were escorted into the city.


    ¡°Look at all the stalls!¡± Ayue squeaked gleefully into Zen¡¯s ear, grabbing his arm. They were walking down what appeared to be the main market, surrounded by vendors selling all sorts of wares, from fragrant foods to jewelry to leather-bound books. ¡°We¡¯ll have to come back later,¡± he said with a wink. ¡°I¡¯ll buy you some sweets to cheer you up.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to cheer up,¡± Zen said despondently.


    ¡°Nonsense! One bite and you¡¯ll never want to leave. They must get ingredients from all over, you could eat anything! Chocolates, tarts, candied fruits.¡± He rattled on, though Zen had stopped listening. This seemed like a pretty poor enticement to him.


    They had now left the market and were approaching the largest building in the city.


    ¡°We¡¯re staying in the palace?¡± their classmate Auring gasped from behind them. Her eyes were wide with excitement, though one hand still hadn¡¯t ceased anxiously tugging at her long braid since they had left.


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Ayue piped up. ¡°My brother told me that all the trainees stay in the palace, since it¡¯s close to the training grounds. We¡¯ll get outfitted with armor and weapons and everything!¡± This cheered up many of the children as they were ushered into the building which was to become their new home. The hallways were long and narrow, and the sound of dozens of shuffling feet echoed off the wooden floorboards.


    A devil-officer led the group to the third floor and sorted them by gender into two separate rooms. These rooms were huge, filled only with beds and the bare possessions of the older trainees who were elsewhere at the moment. The officers checked the bags and pockets of each kid as they entered and picked a remaining bed. Once everyone had settled, this officer prattled off a list of rules. ¡°Curfew is 9 P.M. You may not leave this room after that time. You must awaken at 7. Tomorrow morning, we will begin training and schooling.¡± And so on, and so on. And, ¡°You must speak and write in the common tongue only.¡± Zen swore the officer¡¯s nose was wrinkling as he said this. ¡°Any transgressions will be punished. Dinner is now being served at the army kitchens on the second floor. Return before 9.¡± With that, he was gone. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Zen was sitting on the bed, his fingers clutching at the frayed sheet. He kicked off his boots and rolled under the blanket.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go to dinner, Zen,¡± Ayue said. He had chosen the bed next to him.


    ¡°I¡¯m not hungry. I¡¯m going to sleep.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Mm.¡±


    ¡°Well, okay.¡± Ayue sat on his bed and began unlacing his boots.


    Zen peeked at him with one eye. ¡°...Go eat.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s okay.¡± Ayue smiled at him. ¡°Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?¡±


    ¡°Shut up.¡± Zen buried his face in the flat pillow and brought the blanket up to his ears.


    Ayue laughed and changed into his nightclothes. ¡°Change into something more comfortable.¡±


    Zen¡¯s eyelids were already heavy, and his mind was foggy with fatigue. ¡°Shut up,¡± he managed in the moments before he fell asleep.


    ¡ª


    Even though he had fallen asleep so early, Zen wasn¡¯t fully awake the next morning until after breakfast, when a sword master had lined up all the newcomers in the training field behind the palace. He wouldn¡¯t dare show it, but Zen was excited to receive his first sword. Ayue¡¯s older brother Shiwe had taught the two boys some basic techniques using sticks. Zen liked to think of himself as somewhat of a natural, and so he had often bargained with Ayue to get him to play along. He¡¯d promise to share his lunch, or to help Ayue search for spirits at night, in exchange for a few rounds. Zen smiled, thinking back on these fond memories. He also wondered if Ayue would try to go spirit-hunting here, too, despite his record of absolute failure and the risk of breaking curfew.


    Each kid was outfitted with a blunted sword. Too bad, probably couldn¡¯t kill someone with this thing. It was a bit heavier than he¡¯d expected, but the hilt felt nice and cool in his grasp, and the sound of the sword cutting through the crisp morning air was incredibly satisfying.


    The sword master commanded the students¡¯ attention and began to demonstrate basic attacks. For maybe the first time ever, Zen listened attentively, gripping the sword tightly and shifting in his boots as he pictured himself carrying out those same moves. Parry, then counter. Dodge, then lunge. Keep up the pressure with quick slices.


    After some instruction, the sword master said, ¡°Pair up with someone and begin practicing. I¡¯ll come around to give advice. These swords aren¡¯t sharp, but take care not to hurt your opponent.¡±


    Needless to say, Zen paired with Ayue. ¡°Ready?¡± he teased, his eyes glinting. Ayue sighed, raising his sword. Hmm, it looks a bit too heavy for him. I¡¯ll go easy on him...like usual.


    Zen didn¡¯t want to hurt or discourage Ayue, so he stayed on the defensive, dodging and parrying, only occasionally throwing out a riposte. Besides, this way, he could get more comfortable with the feel of the blade, the momentum needed to move it, the strength required to keep a block from faltering. The hilt had warmed from his touch, and his fingers were wrapped around it so neatly that it was if they had been melded into one object.


    The sword master halted practice after a few rounds. ¡°Before you resume, I¡¯d like to introduce someone who will be joining your training.¡± A slight figure stepped out from behind him. This person exuded luxury; his sleek black hair was fastened into a tight bun and decorated with shimmering crystals, his dark blue shirt, outfitted with billowing sleeves and black leather belts at the waist and wrists, rippled around his knees. Even his haughty expression indicated royalty. Zen was suddenly painfully aware of his own rather inadequate appearance. His curly auburn hair was unruly and loose, and the fabric of the uniforms he¡ªalong with the other trainees¡ªwore was uninviting, coarse and gray.


    Ayue let out a low whistle. ¡°That¡¯s Sovereign Prince Arlen¡¯s cousin. I heard a bit about him from Shiwe, but to think we¡¯d be training with him!¡±


    ¡°What did you hear?¡±


    ¡°Ah, that he doesn¡¯t give anyone the time of day, and he thinks he¡¯s so much better than everyone that he won¡¯t even speak to them. But, you know, he was much younger when Shiwe saw him, maybe now that he¡¯s our age he¡¯s changed? But he looks arrogant still, don¡¯t you think? Does he have to walk around with fucking diamonds in his hair?¡± Ayue laughed quietly.


    ¡°You think that¡¯d suit me, too?¡± Zen joked, pulling his hair back with his hands and turning his head up in a pose, to Ayue¡¯s delight. ¡°What¡¯s his name, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Ito, I think¡ªah, wait, we¡¯re pairing up again? What did the sword master say?¡±


    ¡°Who knows? Come at me!¡± Zen jumped into a defensive pose and lightly smacked Ayue¡¯s shoulder with the flat end of the weapon.


    Zen was continuing his game of defense-only by the time the sword master rolled around, Prince Ito in tow. He eyed them carefully, familiar enough with Ayue¡¯s pattern of attack to spare the two a few glances. The sword master was expressionless, while Ito was clearly bored, his hand impatiently twitching on the hilt of his own practice sword. Zen waited for him to make eye contact, then raised an eyebrow at him mockingly.


    ¡°Enough!¡± the sword master exclaimed, exasperated. ¡°Why are you holding back? Do you not take this training seriously?¡±


    These words were directed at Zen, who gaped slightly, frozen in place. Though Zen didn¡¯t dare look at him, Ayue¡¯s face and neck were flushed a deep red. He¡¯d known that they weren¡¯t training seriously. But it was one thing to slack off with a friend¡ªand another to be exposed as inferior by the teacher!


    ¡°You¡ªwhat¡¯s your name? Go take turns practicing against one of the younger students.¡±


    ¡°Ayue, sir. Yes, sir,¡± he replied meekly before slinking off.


    ¡°And you, you¡¯ll be facing off against Prince Ito. He¡¯s been looking for a worthy opponent. Now, you¡¯re not quite there yet, but this bunch¡­¡± The sword master¡¯s voice trailed off.


    ¡°Fine.¡± Zen shrugged, raising his blade casually to face the prince, who had since drawn his own sword.


    On one hand, Zen didn¡¯t particularly care about impressing this sword master or even exerting any effort at all. But, on the other hand, he wanted to wipe the smug expression off the prince¡¯s face, show off what a nobody like himself, raised in a village with only sticks to whet, could do. The problem was that he was unacquainted with Ito¡¯s moveset. Plus, this prince had grown up slicing fruits with beautiful sabers forged from the finest material. This would be an interesting challenge.


    Zen waited for Ito to make the first move. He parried the first two blows easily¡ªa slice to the right and then to the left¡ªbut barely blocked an overhand cleave. He jumped back a bit, readjusting his loosened grip and gritting his teeth in concentration. His senses honed in on that elegant blade hovering inches away from him. His ears heard naught but the slice of metal and the ripples of long blue sleeves through the air; his eyes saw naught but the glare of sunlight on iron and the cold stare of his opponent. Zen went on the offensive this time, tossing out a few ineffectual strikes. He then threw out a feint to Ito¡¯s left, quickly withdrawing his blade and striking more aggressively to the right. However, his blade was easily stopped inches away from his target, and the force caused him to stagger. In the brief moment that he took to steady his feet, Ito had tapped his stomach with the tip of his sword.


    ¡°Dead.¡± There was a pause, a thoughtful expression on his face. ¡°Eyes,¡± the prince finally said. ¡°You were looking to my right.¡±


    Zen glanced over at the sword master, who was watching intensely, chin cupped in his hands. ¡°Better, better. Again!¡±


    Zen wiped his wrist over the sweat beading on his upper lip and sighed. ¡°Thanks,¡± he grunted at Ito, avoiding those piercing black eyes. And he reluctantly raised his blade again.


    ¡ª


    Zen had never tested the limits of his physical body in such a way before. The day after that first match, the sword master didn¡¯t acknowledge him, and so Zen played around with Ayue. But the following day, the sword master and that composed prince had returned, and they continued to do so from then on. Zen secretly hoped Ito would switch out his practice sword for a real one and chop off his arm to end his suffering.

 Chapter 2: 100 Defeats, One Victory

    Chapter 2 - One Hundred Defeats, One Victory


    ¡°Ah, Zen, please, I promised I would tell them about the spiritual wonders of this world, but honestly, I would be too nervous to do it without you there. You¡¯re always there when I tell stories¡­¡± Ayue had begged.


    Zen liked to think of himself as rather stubborn, but he always caved when Ayue turned those soft hazel eyes his way. Thusly was he forced to sit by Ayue¡¯s side and listen to the same silly stories he had heard year after year.


    This time, Ayue had learned a new framing device, enlightened one afternoon while listening to their instructor lecture them on history. ¡°Our teacher has fed you lies and propaganda,¡± he had begun, a rather dramatic opening for someone as easy-going as Ayue. But he was a gifted storyteller, and a few kids had gasped with delight. It was past curfew, but the new arrivals had learned that security was extremely lax. What¡¯s more, most guards on night-duty were too lazy to lock their doors, because then they¡¯d have to be awake in the early morning to unlock them. And so a group of girls had joined in on the fun, the familiar faces of Pannen and Auring from Zen¡¯s village included. Auring had snuck in a bottle of wine, which was being passed around and handled like a holy relic.


    ¡°It is as he said that one hundred years ago, the world was filled with magic. He put it rather simply that each clan specialized in one type of sorcery. Really it was much more complicated, as the ways of sorcery were passed down through manuscripts written in obscure, dead languages that only a master could decipher. In order to learn sorcery, one would have to become a master¡¯s apprentice. Of course, it¡¯s easiest to learn from someone nearby, not to mention that back then, the so-called standard language wasn¡¯t as widespread¡­


    ¡°So, yes, for the most part, each clan had its own speciality. Our Gahi clan,¡± he pointed at himself proudly and elbowed Zen, who tried his best to scowl at his friend, ¡°were masters of blood magic. Such sorcery requires blood as its catalyst, since it¡¯s the most powerful. Now, now, before you go accusing us of any grave crimes, it doesn¡¯t require human blood, but...human blood is more powerful. Anyway, anyway, the clans of the north specialized in entropic sorcery, which, to be honest, is what I would have wanted to learn.


    ¡°Now, ah, I¡¯m less familiar with how exactly such sorcery was cast...but one can manipulate another¡¯s capacities, like making them sleep, or feel pain. And then there were other small branches of sorcery, but they were smaller and less potent. The most common type of sorcery was spiritual sorcery, of course, since spirits were abundant and easy to control, ¡®specially since no type of sacrifice was needed or anything.¡±


    Zen groaned internally at the mention of spirits. Any minute now, and Ayue was likely to go off on a tangent about his¡ªrather, their¡ªexperiences spirit-hunting. Ayue was convinced that the woods were teeming with malevolent spirits who sought the assistance of such skilled mediums as he to put them to rest. Many a night they had foregone sleep, lurking in the bushes. Zen functioned as the bodyguard to Ayue¡¯s active imagination, which saw monsters in every shadow. Sixteen years on this earth, and they had failed to find one spirit. Not that Ayue would admit it; he claimed it was statistically impossible that every strange sound or movement they had encountered was natural.


    ¡°The only way to defeat a spirit forcefully is to strike it with an enchanted blade. The Tangis, they were the creators of this blade. Forgoing sorcery itself, the Tangis specialized in anti-spiritual swordsmanship.¡± Ayue sighed, as if he had been personally wronged by this practice. ¡°Then, a hundred years ago, a strange sorcerer appeared in Tanac, claiming he knew how to uproot magic from this world entirely.¡±


    This was always the part of the story that made Zen frown from all the plotholes. Why would a sorcerer just suddenly help the Tangis? How could he possibly have come up with a method that countered each type of magic? But all records of this era had been erased, as Ayue would soon emphasize¡ªhis voice high-pitched at the absolute scandal of the ordeal. The truth was at the mercy of the victor.


    ¡°The Tangis were tired of playing defense and feeling inferior, so they struck a deal with the sorcerer. He would be the personal advisor of the Sovereign Prince, treated like royalty, and in return, he would use his knowledge to wage war against the other clans and wipe out sorcery in the realm. The campaign was successful¡ªhe truly did know how to counter every type of magic, and with the Tangis all equipped with enchanted swords, the Tangi military succeeded in wiping out all sorcerers, destroying every manuscript, and massacring the spirit realm. They justified their deeds by arguing that sorcery was an inherent danger that must be outlawed for the safety of the common folk. They also used this opportunity to establish their political dominance over every village, forging an empire that lasts to this day.¡±


    Ayue¡¯s eyes suddenly darkened, and his voice dropped to a whisper. Those sitting in the back had to lean in to hear, their breaths caught in their throat. Exaggerated or not, Zen had to admit that Ayue was a good narrator.


    ¡°But, of course, this mysterious being who had materialized at Tanac mere years before...also practiced sorcery. Once the Sovereign Prince was satisfied that every sorcerer and trace of magical knowledge had been destroyed, he personally slid a dagger into that sorcerer¡¯s heart and strung his dead body up in the capital square. He kept that dagger there to make sure this sorcerer, being wronged as he was, wouldn¡¯t turn into a vengeful spirit. And that body remained there until it had decomposed into nothing.¡±


    Naturally, this conclusion was not included in the lecture earlier that week. ¡°That¡¯s how they repaid him?¡± Auring squealed, her hand curled up in a fist on her forehead.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ayue responded solemnly. ¡°Sorcery may have been a formidable source of power...and corruption and violence and so on, but that one act of corruption and violence was one carried out by hands untouched by the magical ways. This is a tale warning not of the evil methods of sorcery but of the evil ways of men, of their lies and deceit.¡±


    One kid chuckled. ¡°Nah, that¡¯s the fucking Tangi for you. That sorcerer¡¯s only mistake was believing he wouldn¡¯t be backstabbed by those pigs.¡±


    Zen smirked, not in total disagreement with the sentiment. Ayue, however, was horrified, waving his hands frantically. ¡°No, no! That¡¯s not the moral of the story! Had that sorcerer turned to anyone, his fate likely would¡¯ve been the same¡­ He was too powerful, and any ruler would feel threatened by him¡­


    ¡°Anyway, now that I¡¯m telling the story in Tanac for the first time, I can finally reveal an addition to this tale I left out before! Obviously, sorcery has been erased and such, but there are still many spirits that survived the cleansing and still roam this earth. The Tangi have never divulged the secret of forging their weapons to anyone, and at last...we are standing in the very building that contains these swords!¡±This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    With these words, the audience burst into excited chatter...except for Zen, who hissed, ¡°What are you doing? Do you want to get us in trouble?¡±


    Ayue fed off the energy of the crowd and so was fearless at the moment. ¡°You worry too much! The guards don¡¯t give a shit what we do. Besides, there¡¯s not that many of us.¡±


    Most of the older kids, as well as some of the younger ones who hailed from other villages, were already asleep. Or, at least, trying to sleep over the ruckus of the event. Still, over a dozen teenagers sneaking through the palace would not be inconspicuous. If Ayue had proposed that just the two of them go see the swords for themselves, he would have instantly agreed. But he had no desire to place his well-being in the hands of strangers, especially those who weren¡¯t well-versed in the art of stealth.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to come,¡± Ayue said, pouting a little. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll bring one back for you to see.¡±


    Zen groaned. ¡°Damn it, you¡¯ll do no such thing. I¡¯ll come.¡± He truly had no backbone when it came to opposing Ayue¡¯s adventures.


    Either these teenagers were extremely lucky or the night shift was extremely incompetent, for they found the room in no time. Ayue hadn¡¯t known the exact location of the armory, but after trying a couple of doors on the right floor, they had found one securely locked. However, locks were no match for a group of youths¡ªat least a couple were bound to be practiced in mischief.


    Ayue closed the door once everyone tagging along had entered and lit up the room with a torch he had stolen from the hallway. Once everyone¡¯s eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting, they gaped at the sight in front of them From wall to wall, glimmering swords reflecting the dancing flames of the torchlights hung. Indeed, some kind of spiritual power seemed to cling to those blades, though Zen couldn¡¯t be sure that it wasn¡¯t his imagination.


    ¡°Can we touch them?¡± someone asked Ayue. Even regular palace guards didn¡¯t wield these on a daily basis. Would an untrained hand be punished for blaspheming such a precious item?


    ¡°I think so. I¡¯ve never heard otherwise.¡±


    That was enough for Zen. Hah, I¡¯m actually glad I came. He reached for a sword he found particularly magnificent. He held the hilt in his right hand and gently lowered the flat side of the blade onto his palm. The metal pulsated with heat. Just how many spirits has this killed?


    Though some were too nervous to toy with a force they didn¡¯t fully understand, at least a dozen swords were now being manhandled. Ayue was proudly going on about the origins of spirits, ¡°...must have come into contact with sorcery¡ªwhether as a wielder or a victim¡ªwhich then imbues their soul with the ability to return in such a form¡­¡± and ¡°...something tying them to this world, whether negative or positive¡­¡±


    Zen was slowly turning the blade over in his hand. He realized it was the first time he had ever held a real sword. Those training swords don¡¯t count. This...now this is a weapon. He allowed himself to smile a little. However, the smile soon faded as he heard a creaking sound from behind him. Fingers gripping the hilt, teeth gritting, he turned his head to the door. Blue robes and black eyes illuminated by the flickering torch flames, the prince himself stood, taking in the scene.


    Ayue hadn¡¯t noticed amidst his excited babbling. Zen forcefully grabbed his arm. ¡°Oi, wha- Shit.¡± Ayue immediately dropped into a kneel, clasping his hands in front of him. ¡°Your highness.¡±


    Ito looked down at him coldly, unforgiving. ¡°Put them away.¡±


    His demand was unnecessary. Upon seeing him, those not frozen in shock had scrambled to return their weapons to the stands on the wall. The room was silent except for the clanging of metal against metal.


    Ayue hadn¡¯t taken one and so was still kneeling before Ito. ¡°Please, we meant no harm by this. I¡¯d just heard that this palace housed these swords and I convinced them all to come with me to see. If you could find it in you to overlook this transgression¡­¡±


    The prince responded immediately, ¡°Sure. On one condition.¡± He paused, scratching his cheek thoughtfully. ¡°One of you must defeat me in a duel.¡±


    Ayue blanched. ¡°T-to the death?¡±


    Ito laughed, taken aback a little. ¡°What? No, no, like in training. I¡¯m sure one of you wouldn¡¯t want to miss the opportunity to wield one of these in action.¡±


    Zen was facing the wall, in the process of returning his sword, but he could feel the eyes of everyone on him. After all, who had a better chance than the one who faced off against the prince daily? But he had never won, and their duels had left him exhausted and battered. Accepting would be folly. He sucked in his cheeks, weighing his options.


    Ultimately, his stubborn pride won out against reason. ¡°I would be willing,¡± he said slowly, still facing the wall. He removed the sword from the wall once more and turned to face that familiar opponent.


    Ito had already chosen his weapon. He sliced it through the air gracefully. ¡°Give us room.¡±


    A circle formed around the two. Zen could feel the brimming excitement of the audience. They really got a show today. He looked at Ito, whose silhouette was barely visible. His sword and dark eyes reflected what light there was, but the rest of him was swallowed by shadows. Zen also noticed that he was barefoot, a silver anklet twinkling on his right foot. We must have awakened him.


    Ito spared him no more time to prepare, launching a series of quick attacks that Zen barely managed to parry. The tip of his opponent¡¯s sword came dangerously close to his temple, making Zen flinch away. Just pretend we¡¯re in training. If he allowed his nerves to dictate his reactions, he¡¯d be much more likely to end up injured.


    The two circled around each other, defending and attacking in turn, dodging and assailing. Ito¡¯s left hand was behind his back, and his movements were as light as a dancer¡¯s. Zen, on the other hand, could feel his arm faltering, and he was beginning to gasp for breath. This is it. He gathered all of his strength in the next blow, even knowing that Ito would easily block it.


    To his surprise, Ito¡¯s sword clattered to the floor. Zen brought the blade up to Ito¡¯s neck, blinking slowly.


    ¡°You were lucky today,¡± Ito said, addressing the stunned audience. ¡°Go back to your rooms.¡±


    Zen let the crowd brush past him. Ayue tugged on his sleeve. ¡°Let¡¯s go, before he changes his mind,¡± he whispered.


    Zen shot him a look of murderous intent. ¡°Fine, fine. Don¡¯t get lost on your way back.¡±


    It was only the two of them. Zen, his movements slow and deliberate, returned the sword to its rightful place and turned to face the prince again. Ito had an eyebrow raised and a corner of his mouth upturned.


    ¡°You let me win,¡± Zen accused.


    Ito laughed softly. ¡°I won¡¯t do it again.¡±


    ¡°Better not.¡± Ito¡¯s lenience may have helped Zen save face in front of his peers, but it had wounded his pride. Caught up in his injured feelings, he didn¡¯t even stop to think that his tone and words could be considered disrespectful to a royal more committed to formalities.


    Ito walked out the door, Zen following close behind. As the two parted ways, Ito called out over his shoulder, ¡°I have more stamina, so I easily outlast you. Be aggressive at the start.¡±


    Zen pondered those words as his head lay against his pillow, the sounds of clashing metal ringing in his ears.

 Chapter 3: Two Attempts, One Success

    In the past months since arriving at the capital, Zen had begun looking forward to the mornings. He still had yet to best Ito, but he could feel the increasing ease with which he yielded a sword, and he swore that the prince sometimes appeared winded after a particularly good fight. The two rarely spoke, but occasionally Ito would throw out pieces of advice like he had done that night in the armory. On the days the sword master had them run drills or listen to his instruction, Zen would find himself longing to swing his blade through the air instead.


    Zen felt similarly every afternoon, when the trainees had to listen to lectures about history and civics and grammar and so on. He had taken to drawing in his notes book instead. He wasn¡¯t a particularly good artist; in fact, calling those drawings anything but scribbles would be an insult to art itself.


    Zen was particularly impatient one fall afternoon. He was sitting towards the back. Ayue sat to his left, listening attentively to the teacher. Zen had promised to accompany him on a ¡°spirit-hunting¡± adventure that night after curfew. He was a little anxious; though he had broken curfew to go to the armory that one time, and once more with Ayue to buy sweets in the market, their track record was poor. They had been caught half of the time, and by the prince no less. However, Zen was itching to go beyond the city walls unsupervised.


    Imagining different worst-case scenarios and how to navigate them, Zen was even more unfocused than usual. As a result, his scribbles were almost indecipherable. He had tried to draw his house and the magnificent magnolia tree that towered above it. The flowers that fell from its branches looked more like snowballs, and the woods in the background like carrots. He frowned and put down his quill, glancing to his right. Ito had joined the class that day; he attended maybe a quarter of their classes. Zen didn¡¯t understand why: surely he¡¯s learned all this already. Maybe his cousin forced him to be here.


    When Ito had chosen the seat next to him, Zen had pretended to be a good student at first. Luckily, he didn¡¯t have to keep up the fa?ade for long. To his surprise, the prince was as terrible of a student as he, albeit more talented¡ªand conspicuous¡ªin his manner of distraction. He would tear pages out of his book and sculpt them into delicate objects. He¡¯d make birds, or foxes, or butterflies. When the lecture was over, he¡¯d crumple his creation in his palm and stuff it into the pocket of his robe. This was all very baffling to Zen.


    Today, Ito had folded his paper into an owl, and he was now using his quill to add details. He was adding a geometric pattern to its wings when he felt Zen¡¯s eyes on him. He glanced over, first at Zen, and then at Zen¡¯s book. When Zen realized he was studying his drawings, he quickly flipped the page. The prince just smirked and turned back to his bird.


    Sighing, Zen rested his chin on his hand and stared blankly at the teacher for the remainder of the class.


    ¡ª


    Zen and Ayue had escaped through the window, not daring to breathe a word to each other until they were past the city gates. They didn¡¯t expect much trouble, but just the week before, one kid had run into the sword master in the market past curfew and been punished so severely he couldn¡¯t hold his weapon the next day.


    ¡°We made it!¡± Ayue said excitedly once the two had scaled the city walls and were safely hidden among the bushes.


    ¡°We still have to make it back,¡± Zen pointed out. ¡°Now, where would you like to look?¡±


    ¡°Well, we should go where there is more resentment. You know the river by our village? I think it reaches all the way up here. Rivers breed resentment, you know. Ritual drownings and all that.¡±


    Zen looked at him askance. ¡°I think you just made that up.¡±


    ¡°I did not! What, do you have a better idea?¡±


    ¡°No, but I feel like you would have told me this before...if it were true.¡± Seeing Ayue¡¯s indignant frown, he laughed. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Let¡¯s go.¡±Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    They walked between the trees, just a few meters away from the trail that they suspected would lead them straight to the river. Zen hadn¡¯t felt so at ease since arriving. He soaked in the cool smell of pine needles and the warm scent of the soil. He felt the crisp fall breeze run its hands through his loose hair and the collar of his shirt. He felt...serene.


    Ayue was indifferent to nature¡¯s beauty. He was focused on his task; he would pause and cock his head at every sound, be it an owl¡¯s hoot or the crackle of dead leaves underfoot. Sometimes, he¡¯d cling to Zen¡¯s shirt to make him stop moving and close his eyes, as if trying to sense a spirit¡¯s presence with his soul. Zen didn¡¯t mind. He knew they¡¯d find nothing; at the very least, they could relax by the river for a little before returning. He¡¯d let the water rush through his toes and his fingers. Maybe he¡¯d even splash his face with it, letting cold droplets drip down his eyelashes and the tip of his nose.


    Zen felt a tug on his sleeve. ¡°Do you hear that?¡± Ayue whispered from behind him.


    Zen listened to the soft sounds of the forest that enveloped them. ¡°The river?¡± He thought he could hear something bubbling nearby.


    ¡°No, voices.¡±


    He listened again. Indeed, he could just barely make out the sounds of someone talking. The sounds were getting closer, too, and he could tell that there were two people. A man and a young woman.


    Ayue and Zen crouched down behind the largest tree they could find, barely breathing. Ayue hid behind Zen, clutching onto his shirt with one hand, knuckles white. As the strangers approached, their voices became discernible.


    ¡°I¡¯ll help you.¡± It was the woman. She chuckled slightly. ¡°You knew I would, otherwise you wouldn¡¯t have dared ask.¡±


    The man hummed in agreement. ¡°That¡¯s true. Take your time with it.¡± His voice was low and rough, and he spoke with a distinct Tangi accent. Zen was glad they were hiding; if he were a guard, he¡¯d easily recognize them as trainees.


    ¡°I will.¡± There was a lull in the conversation for a minute. Zen could tell that the pair were just about to pass by them. He bit his lip, straining to hear their words more clearly. There was an itch in the back of his mind. He couldn¡¯t tell if perhaps he was experiencing d¨¦j¨¤ vu, or if he recognized one of their voices, or if maybe their words were just vague enough to be suspicious.


    ¡°How did you find me, anyway?¡± It was the woman again. Hmm, no, I don¡¯t think I know that voice.


    ¡°Your father and I are acquainted.¡±


    The voices grew softer, heading in the direction of the city gates. It was a while before Zen and Ayue dared to speak again.


    ¡°Do we know them?¡± Zen asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so, why? What were they talking about?¡±


    Zen shrugged. ¡°I had a strange feeling about them. Can¡¯t put my finger on it, though.¡±


    Ayue realized he was still grabbing onto Zen¡¯s clothing and let his hand fall limply to his side. ¡°Maybe we shouldn¡¯t go to the river after all,¡± he said uneasily.


    Zen snorted in response. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s just wait here a bit before returning. Don¡¯t want to run into them on our way back.¡±


    ¡°Good idea. I can tell you a scary story in the meantime!¡± Ayue had perked up slightly, knowing he had a captive audience.


    ¡°Wh- Ah.¡± There was no point in arguing.


    ¡ª


    Zen could feel himself nodding off in his seat. After returning to the palace, he and Ayue had discovered that it was much easier to leave the palace undetected than to enter. It was one thing to find a way down three stories; it was another matter entirely to climb up. Instead, they¡¯d had to wait for an opening to sneak through the front entrance. As a result, he¡¯d slept quite poorly. The sleep deprivation hit him after lunch, once the morning¡¯s adrenaline had worn off.


    The teacher¡¯s words were slurring in his ears. The soothing crackle of folded paper from beside him sounded distant. He propped his cheek up in his palm, leaning into his elbow. His eyelids felt heavy, and it felt so comfortable to close them. Just for a minute.


    He felt someone shake his shoulder. ¡°Zen,¡± they whispered in his ear.


    Zen opened his eyes, blinking slowly. Oh, I guess I did fall asleep. ¡°I¡¯m up,¡± he mumbled. ¡°I¡¯m coming.¡±


    Ayue was the one who¡¯d shook him awake. The last of the class was filing out through the door. ¡°Alright.¡± Zen heard him turn and leave as well.


    Zen sighed and looked down at his book. The page he had turned to was completely blank. On top of his book sat an unfamiliar object. It was a magnolia flower, delicate and white, neat lines of black ink decorating its paper petals.

 Chapter 4: Twice Dead

    Two weeks had passed, and Zen had missed every opportunity to thank Ito for the paper magnolia. In truth, the gift¡ªif that¡¯s what it was¡ªbaffled him, and the words of gratitude he would think up would turn to nonsense on his tongue. Did he make this because he saw that scribble in my notebook, or is it a coincidence? Is he trying to be friendly? Most of all, why was Zen always slightly uneasy, like Ito¡¯s paper butterflies were fluttering against the walls of his stomach, every time he thought to bring it up?


    And now, he would have to endure hours of sitting across from that odd prince in a cramped wagon, wallowing in his confusion. It had been six months since his arrival to the capital, so the most promising recruits were finally allowed to accompany official patrols. Most of them sounded routine¡ªescorting new trainees to Tanac, guarding the Sovereign Prince¡¯s and his family¡¯s sedans, travelling to villages to collect¡ªextort¡ªtaxes. When Zen had heard that there would be a patrol investigating a series of killings in a western village, he had practically frothed at the mouth. Finally something interesting! The patrol leader had refused him at first, but only hours later seemed to have changed his mind. Zen suspected the prince had something to do with it, especially once he saw him waiting in the wagon. Is he even supposed to go on patrols?


    Zen had actually asked that aloud when he climbed into the wagon. The prince had given him a funny look and replied, ¡°Yes. I¡¯m expected to be an officer soon, anyway.¡±


    Somehow, Auring¡ªthat girl from his village¡ªhad weaseled her way into the expedition as well. The three were joined by one of the prince¡¯s sullen bodyguards. Zen swore this bodyguard shot him nasty glances every so often, as if he were unworthy of even being in His Highness¡¯ presence, let alone being transported so luxuriously. The rest of the patrol rode on horseback alongside the wagon.


    Auring was chatty the entire ride to the village, clearly overjoyed at having the opportunity to speak to Ito. Zen couldn¡¯t help but be reminded of why the two weren¡¯t friends; he couldn¡¯t bear the burden of having two overly talkative friends. He wanted to lean his head back and close his eyes, to let the rocking of the wagon lull him to sleep, but Auring was peppering the prince with questions about everything and anything.


    ¡°Are you close with the Sovereign Prince? What is he like? Does he live in the palace too? Is he married? Have you been to every village in the realm? What¡¯s your favorite stall in the market? Do you like to read? How many languages do you speak?¡±


    His answers were short but polite. ¡°Relatively.¡± ¡°He is...sincere.¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°...Yes.¡± And so on.


    ¡°Will the Sovereign Prince ever grace us with his presence during training? I¡¯ve improved so much, I¡¯d love to impress him. Aren¡¯t we the future of his realm? Shouldn¡¯t he show interest in us?¡±


    For an incredibly brief moment, the prince¡¯s mouth twitched. ¡°That is true. Maybe when your friend here can put up a good fight against me. I¡¯m sure Arlen would love nothing more than to see me bested.¡±


    Zen felt his ears go hot. Somehow he doubted that. He swore Ito¡¯s voice had a teasing lilt to it, and this suspicion stunned him into silence.


    Auring huffed beside him. ¡°When would that be?¡± she exclaimed. Her tone suggested that she didn¡¯t believe such a thing possible.


    Ito raised an eyebrow at her. He didn¡¯t try to hide his annoyance. ¡°Give it six months,¡± he replied coolly. He then turned his head to look at Zen, his voice light again. ¡°You think you¡¯ll be ready then?¡±


    Zen was unable to hold his gaze. ¡°Yeah, no problem,¡± he mumbled. Probably not. The prince had the advantage of years of training over him, and he only occasionally even broke a sweat during their sessions.


    Auring was satisfied with that response and moved on to interrogate him about other things. Zen sighed with relief and stared out the window, letting their two voices blur together in his ears.


    ¡ª


    The patrol reached the village around noon. Though the air was alive with a cool fall breeze, the sun was beating down from above. The trees here were sparse, cleared to make way for crop fields and pastures. The village¡ªaptly named Goat¡¯s Song for the dozens of goats housed within¡ªwas also sparse. Small wooden huts dotted the landscape. Humble gardens and animal pens filled the spaces in between, and fields of carrots, radishes, and potatoes surrounded them. There were people working the fields, kneeling in the soil, dirt splattered across their plain clothing.


    The leader of the patrol walked over to the nearest house and approached an elderly woman who was milking a goat. Her thin gray hair was messily tied in a bun, and her hands slightly shook as they lowered to rest on the bucket slowly filling with milk. She gave a thin smile to the guard.


    He cleared his throat gently and bowed slightly. ¡°Ma¡¯am, I am Officer Cai from Tanac. We have come to investigate the recent killings here. With whom may I speak to learn more of this matter?¡±


    Silently, she pointed a bony finger towards a house further into the village. The group walked over in silence; though there was nothing to suggest that this village wasn¡¯t peaceful and quaint, everyone felt unsettled to some degree. The old lady¡¯s eyes had been dark and unkind, and even the goats were quiet, their eyes following the patrol. Sweat was beading on the back of Zen¡¯s neck, but he forced himself to stare straight ahead as if nothing were amiss.


    The remainder of the patrol stood a few meters away from the house as Cai knocked on the door. It slowly creaked open, and a girl still in her teens stepped out from it to greet him. In her arms was a baby. Its face was red and wrinkled, and its hands were curled into small fists on its chest. It must have been only weeks old. Zen heard Auring gasp slightly. He knew exactly what she was thinking: is that her child? The girl was probably around their age; the thought of being a parent so young was a little disquieting.


    Cai bowed to her gently. ¡°Miss, I hope we aren¡¯t disturbing you. We¡¯ve come to inquire about the recent killings. May I ask for your name?¡±


    She gently rocked the baby in her arms. It cooed slightly, but its eyes remained closed. ¡°My name is Pila,¡± she replied softly. ¡°I don¡¯t have much to tell you.¡± She glanced nervously at the group of people huddled outside the house and back at Cai. ¡°Four days ago, my older sister and her husband were killed in their sleep. They...they were beaten to death with a cooking pot. I don¡¯t know who did it. The neighbors didn¡¯t see anyone, and the door and windows were all intact.¡± Her voice was trembling as she continued, ¡°They left the babe alone. She¡¯s just ten weeks old, and already¡­¡±


    Cai made a sympathetic sound but continued his line of questioning. ¡°I heard there were other victims. Who were they?¡±


    ¡°It was an older couple, a husband and wife. I didn¡¯t know them too well; they were rather withdrawn. My sister, she didn¡¯t know them well either. I wouldn¡¯t think it¡¯d be related, but that couple also died mysteriously, one week before my sister did. I don¡¯t know how, but they say the bodies were battered beyond recognition. And again, no one saw anything out of the ordinary that night.¡± She was clutching the baby, her eyes wide and fearful. ¡°Please, you¡¯ll help us?¡±


    The soldier gave her a reassuring nod. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re here. Thank you for your assistance. I will let you know once all is taken care of.¡± He bowed again and returned to the rest of the patrol.


    ¡°It is as I thought,¡± Cai began. ¡°I believe we¡¯re dealing with a spirit. A village this small, such crimes could not be carried out with no one knowing otherwise. Moreover, no sign of forced entry?¡±


    Zen¡¯s hand went to the hilt of the sword strapped to his side. They didn¡¯t even give me or Auring an enchanted sword that could destroy a spirit. We¡¯re useless. I...I don¡¯t even know how to find a spirit.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Luckily for Zen, Auring was willing to ask the questions he kept silent. ¡°How do we track down a spirit? And kill it?¡± Somehow, her voice was tinged with excitement, despite the grim tale they had all heard.


    Cai inclined his head towards her. ¡°Unfortunately, only those with...the appropriate weaponry can kill a spirit. These swords will also force the spirit to reveal itself when we approach. The most difficult part is finding it. Spirits often dwell in places of magical significance or places related to its past life. It seems this one has only left at night, so it should be there¡ªwherever that may be¡ªnow.¡±


    ¡°Hmm...so spirits are invisible normally?¡± Auring must never have paid attention to Ayue back home. Ayue might strangle me out of jealousy when I tell him we got to track down a spirit.


    ¡°They leave slight traces behind, but to an untrained eye, they are invisible. They can choose to appear to us, at their discretion.¡± Cai paused, surveying the group. ¡°I think we should split in two. I suspect the killings were unrelated to its resentment, seeing as there was no connection between them, but I want one group to survey the two crime scenes nonetheless. The other group will go into the woods; I know of some caves where sorcerers used to hide out in. The magical remains lingering there may have attracted this spirit.¡±


    Cai decided to lead the group into the woods, taking along Auring and the other two junior soldiers. Ito¡¯s bodyguard led the rest¡ªIto, Zen, and one other young soldier.


    ¡°Let¡¯s check the house of the first killing,¡± the bodyguard said, the first words he had spoken the entire trip.


    Zen fell into step at the back of the group as they walked in the direction of the house. They had to walk nearly two kilometers to reach it. Zen found himself wiping the sweat off his forehead discreetly; the wind had stilled, and the sun had become more overbearing. He focused on the rhythmic clinks of the soldiers¡¯ scabbards against their armor as a distraction.


    The house was built in a hilly part of the landscape, and Zen found that his calves were aching by the time they reached it. Like the rest of the village, it was small and unimpressive. The animal pen to its side was empty, and the garden had been picked dry. It was as if the place had long been abandoned.


    They approached the door. As they did so, they were met with a wailing sound that made Zen¡¯s heart tighten in his chest. It sounded like a young boy¡ªand then the voice grew deeper, though the scream was unbroken. The voice would grow hoarse and choke off, then begin anew, piercing, agonizing. All four men stood frozen in place. Looks like we found the right place.


    After listening to the scream trail off again, the bodyguard shook his head vigorously, as if shaking the sound out of his head, and grasped the door handle. The door opened easily, and he walked inside, the other soldier following close behind.


    Ito turned to Zen. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t go in,¡± he whispered. ¡°Your sword won¡¯t work against it.¡±


    Zen glared at him. ¡°Like hell I won¡¯t go in.¡± He shouldered his way past Ito and stepped into the house. He regretted it immediately, met with the shrieking sound at its peak once more. It was so much louder from inside the house, so loud that he wouldn¡¯t be able to hear his own voice were he to speak. He drew his sword, like the two before him, and took in his surroundings.


    They had walked into the entryway, which was connected to both the kitchen and the bedroom. The doors to both rooms were ajar, and the furniture had been flung around wildly. Cracked pots and pans made of iron were strewn across the floor, and the kitchen chairs had been smashed into splinters. From the bedroom came the unmistakable scent of rot, of death. Zen felt his eyes watering, and one hand clutched his stomach as he held back a wave of nausea. Though his head swam, he followed the others into the bedroom. He could feel Ito standing close behind him; though he couldn¡¯t hear his breaths over the sound of the wailing, he could feel it coming in uneven bursts, as if he were choking on the rank air.


    Zen stepped through the doorway. Two newly-decomposing bodies were splayed across the bed. Dirt clung to their naked skin and their tangled hair, and the smell of freshly-dug soil mixed in with the smell of their corpses. The bodies were bruised black and blue, and broken bones pierced through flesh and skin, exposed to light for the first time. Zen felt his head go faint, and before he could process a thought, he was stumbling into the corner and retching.


    Zen felt something pinch his nose, and he looked up, spit dribbling down his chin, painful tears welling up in his eyes. Ito was holding his sword in one hand and Zen¡¯s nose between the fingers of the other. ¡°Don¡¯t breathe it in.¡± Zen couldn¡¯t hear him, but could read his lips nonetheless.


    Zen, still bent over, spat onto the ground and straightened up, swatting the prince¡¯s hand away. He took his advice, though, wrinkling his nose and just barely opening his mouth to filter the air through. Still feeling light-headed, he propped himself up against the wall. His fingers were immediately coated in dust. With his other hand, he clenched the hilt of his sword and looked around warily. The spirit was nowhere to be seen, but its voice was still fading in and out.


    At that moment, the voice transformed from an incoherent scream into something intelligible. ¡°No! Please!¡± It was the high-pitched sound of a young boy. ¡°What did I do?! Mama, make him stop!¡± The voice grew slightly deeper. ¡°Do you want me dead? Why don¡¯t you love me?¡±


    Something hurtled through the air towards the two boys. Zen was about to step backward, but Ito grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to the side. Zen was about to protest, but realized that Ito had, ah, prevented him from stepping in his own vomit. They had only just dodged the frying pan. Zen¡¯s eyes were glued to the pan, which had broken apart upon impact and splattered in that shameful corner. If that had hit us¡­ Zen almost caressed his scalp instinctively.


    ¡°What have I done wrong?¡± the spirit squealed, the voice of a young boy again. It sounded more...lifelike, less hollow than it had before. But that hoarse desperation of its cries was the same. In the split second of silence that followed, something white and translucent flitted past them. Before Zen could react, a sword had been thrown from across the room, nailing the hazy figure to the wall.


    Ito¡¯s bodyguard walked over. He pulled his sword out from the wall and looked down at the shape slumped over at the floor. Once it had been hit by the sword, the spirit had become more opaque. It almost looked like a human again. The spirit looked like a boy of Zen¡¯s age. As his head lolled back, his neck was exposed; his skin had been rubbed raw in a circle around his throat, and his head seemed to hang loosely from its joints.


    ¡°The job is done,¡± the bodyguard said matter-of-factly. ¡°Let¡¯s bury the bodies and this spirit and find the others.¡±


    ¡ª


    Zen didn¡¯t say a word until after they had hopped into the wagon and began the journey back to the capital again. Pila had thanked them softly, peeking out from the door of her house as her niece cried in the background. Her cry reminded him of the spirit, and a shudder had traveled down his spine. The shudder was only prolonged by Pila¡¯s strange reaction to Cai¡¯s explanation. Where Zen had expected shock, she had expressed resignation, perhaps even regret. She hadn¡¯t known the couple well, but it seemed she had known their rotten secret. Had known of the suffering of a young boy for whom help never came.


    Zen¡¯s throat was still stinging, and his eyes were stinging, too. He was remembering the smell of the corpses, and the blotched, red skin burned by rope on the spirit¡¯s neck, and the sound of the boy as he cried for his parents. At his parents.


    Ito was quietly explaining to Auring what he believed had happened. Even she was uncharacteristically quiet as she listened. ¡°It was a child spirit. We think he must¡¯ve been abused by his parents ever since he was young. He killed himself because of it. His resentment towards his parents turned him into a spirit.¡±


    ¡°Why did he kill the other couple?¡± Auring asked.


    It was Zen who replied. ¡°The birth of the other child must have awakened his killing intent. He went for his parents first, but must have been driven to madness by his vengeance that he mistook that baby for himself.¡± Ayue¡¯s careful study of the spirit world had come in handy. It was a bitter thought.


    ¡°Mm. Perhaps,¡± Ito said quietly.


    ¡°This happened so recently, though,¡± Zen continued. ¡°I thought spirits have to come into contact with sorcery before their death in order to transform.¡± Zen would come to regret these remarks in time. At the moment, he thought only of the young boy his age, who had taken his own life and was cursed to relive his painful memories in death.


    The prince gritted his teeth. ¡°That is indeed the case. Perhaps our efforts have not been as thorough as we believed.¡±


    Zen just glanced down at his hands, which were clasped together. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. For the rest of the ride, he tried his best to block out the spirit¡¯s cries for its mother and father, and the taste of vomit on his tongue, and the quiet bitterness of the prince¡¯s tone that reminded him of his parents¡¯ warnings about the Tangi. Above all, he tried to suppress the memories of his own dear parents who he had not seen in half a year...and his lingering resentment at being torn apart from them.

 Chapter 5: Once Opened, Twice Closed

    Zen couldn¡¯t stop himself from emitting a hostile aura in the days following his encounter with the spirit. His mind was in disarray; his frustration at being unable to disentangle his own thoughts led him to further hide within himself. Those around him seemed to notice, as well. He found their reactions a pleasant change in pace. He had only snapped at Auring once¡ªshe had been pestering him at dinner about something¡ªbefore she would clam up in his presence. Ayue, too, was wary of him, not even offering his own thoughts on the story he¡¯d heard secondhand from Auring. Only Prince Ito acted normally, but the two hadn¡¯t talked a lot in the first place, so there wasn¡¯t much to go off of.


    While mornings were a welcome opportunity to clear his mind of all but the physical demands of training, afternoons were when all of Zen¡¯s thoughts and memories rushed to the surface. He felt indignant on behalf of the spirit boy who had been deprived of love and mercy, even in his afterlife. He remembered how quickly that sword had pierced through his immaterial body, silencing his cries. That streak of silver had flashed right before his eyes; had he slowed down time, his own pale face and horrified eyes would have reflected in it. And then he would think about Ayue¡¯s claims that some spirits could be put to rest peacefully and wonder if he had been complicit in another injustice done to this boy.


    Then, he¡¯d be hit with confusion over his own attitude towards sorcery. His village had passed down stories of gallant Gahi sorcerers who wielded immense power and protected their clans for ages. His own parents had spoken with pride on the legacy of their ancestors and bitterness towards the change that had upended everyone¡¯s fortunes. So, naturally, Zen had always fostered curiosity towards sorcery, sometimes even hoping it would be re-discovered and used to recover his clan¡¯s dignity. But these fantasies had always been merely fantasies¡ªsorcery was a relic of the past...until this case. Somehow, the residents of Goat¡¯s Song had come into contact with, or even wielded, sorcery. Whoever was responsible was just as guilty of injustice as the bodyguard who had slain the tortured spirit. Had they meant to bring him back? Zen didn¡¯t even ponder the question of how someone had come into the means of sorcery or how long they had hidden their abilities. This question was too troublesome.


    These thoughts would cycle through his head as he sat in class. Sometimes he¡¯d sit stonestill, hand clenched around the quill, and do nothing. Other times he would scribble squiggly lines and angry shapes in the margins of his book. Today, he¡¯d been particularly stuck thinking about his parents, and so he was writing random words and phrases in Gahi. He hadn¡¯t practiced since he¡¯d left, and the guilt had only just now hit him. He didn¡¯t even care that the prince was beside him, that maybe he¡¯d reprimand Zen for breaking one of the more serious rules regarding the usage of the common tongue only.


    By the time class was over, Zen had only managed to fill one page. I¡¯m getting rusty. He sighed and put down his quill, about to pack up to leave, when a palm splayed out on his book to hold it down.


    ¡°Is this the Gahi script?¡± It was the prince, towering above him.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he responded nonchalantly, meeting his eyes with a steely look.


    ¡°Hmm.¡± The prince took the notebook in his hands and looked at the writing for a few moments. He then neatly tore the page out, crumpled it in his hand, and stuffed it in his shirt.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Zen exclaimed. He abruptly rose from his seat in protest.


    ¡°What? You don¡¯t want to be caught with this, you know.¡± The prince was frowning, but he didn¡¯t seem angry. Ah, he thinks he¡¯s doing me a favor. As if I¡¯d let myself be caught¡ªdoes he think I¡¯m stupid?


    ¡°I can look out for myself,¡± he retorted, grabbing the book out of Ito¡¯s grip and hurrying out the door.


    ¡ª


    Zen sat on the edge of his bed, bending down to untie the laces of his boots. His fingers were unfocused and tangled, stumbling over each other. Even through dinner, he hadn¡¯t been able to calm his mind. The food had tasted like unsalted porridge in his mouth, and the idle chatter around him had sounded like the murmuring of a stream. Hunched over, he closed his eyes and brought his hands up to his face. They felt cool against his cheeks. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed the conversation around him had ceased. His gaze slowly made its way over to the doorway.


    ¡°Zen, come here,¡± the figure standing at the door said. The prince.


    Zen felt every pair of eyes in the room on him as he slowly stood. He felt his ears burn, and he didn¡¯t dare to even glance over his shoulder to gauge the reaction of his peers. What could he possibly want with me? Could it be that he reported me for what I did in class? ¡°Your highness,¡± he said in a low, measured voice. He was lucky that his tone betrayed nothing, considering how his heart had jumped into his throat.


    ¡°Your assistance is required,¡± Ito responded. He gestured for Zen to follow him and strode into the hallway. He had no choice but to unfreeze his limbs, ignore the persistent stares of the other boys, and trail after him.


    When the two had left the room, Ito turned to him. He drew a wad of clothing out from the bag slung over his shoulder. ¡°Servants¡¯ clothing,¡± he explained. ¡°So no one will question us.¡±


    ¡°What do you need my assistance with?¡± Zen asked warily, throwing the robes over his own clothes.


    ¡°Ah...just follow me.¡± Ito¡¯s expression was unreadable, so Zen swallowed his questions and his unease and followed. As the prince had predicted, the guards gave them no trouble leaving the palace. What the hell are we doing out here? He wouldn¡¯t be leading me out of the palace if I were facing punishment, right? Zen couldn¡¯t tell if he felt dread or excitement at this...situation.


    The prince led Zen into the palace gardens, which were located near the city walls behind the palace itself. The two walked through rows of meticulously trimmed bushes and the few flowering plants that had braved the chilly fall weather. The path was dappled with leaves of yellow and red, fallen from the thin trees shuddering above their heads in the breeze. In the middle was a pond, its water tinted green, its small fish just barely visible below the reflection of the moon. Stone benches surrounded the pond; the prince led Zen to one of these benches.


    Zen sat silently, having decided that he would just wait for Ito to explain himself. If he hadn¡¯t known better, he would have thought the prince seemed a bit flustered. He was reaching again into his bag, this time retrieving a pair of books. He handed them to Zen without a word. I guess I won¡¯t be getting any explanation after all.


    Zen took them, eyebrows raised. His eyes skimmed over the words on their covers, and it took a few moments for him to realize what he was looking at. ¡°This...these are in Gahi,¡± he spluttered.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Ito¡¯s voice made it sound like he was beaming with pride. ¡°I know you can¡¯t have anything like this in your room, so I...I found these to help you practice.¡±


    Zen was speechless. Of all the scenarios he had imagined on the way over here, he had not considered this possibility. In fact, he didn¡¯t think books in Gahi could even be obtained in Tanac. His fingers were almost trembling as he delicately turned the first page, letting the script make itself legible under his gaze. He read the first few lines¡ªit was a book of poetry, he realized¡ªbefore his lips were able to form any words.


    ¡°This is breaking a lot of rules,¡± he said. I know I should be thanking him but¡ªwhat is he doing?


    Ito just shrugged. ¡°Those rules seem kind of silly to me. I¡¯ll keep the books, so it¡¯s not like you¡¯ll get in trouble.¡± The surety in his voice had faded, as if he were worried that his gesture was actually unwelcome, presumptuous even. ¡°I- You don¡¯t have to read them. I shouldn¡¯t have dragged you out here.¡± His hands moved out of his lap, as if to reach out and take them back.


    Zen clutched the books closer to himself. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine.¡± He smiled. It wasn¡¯t even forced. ¡°I¡¯ll read them. This is helpful, really.¡±


    Ito exhaled in relief and sat up, hugging his knees to his chest and watching Zen intently.


    ¡°Do you want me to translate them?¡± Zen asked after reading in silence a moment. He was slightly unnerved, being watched like this. He also figured it¡¯d be terribly unexciting for the prince.


    ¡°Whatever you want.¡±


    Unfortunately, Zen didn¡¯t know what he wanted. Translating would be a hassle, but doing nothing would make him feel uncomfortable. He decided to read on some before making up his mind.


    To his dismay, he discovered that he preferred neither option. ¡°Where did you get these?¡±


    ¡°From a bookseller I frequent.¡±


    ¡°You may want to have a word with him,¡± Zen said, choking back a laugh.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± A hint of worry crept into the prince¡¯s voice.


    ¡°He sold you a book of love poetry! Honestly, what was he thinking, selling you something so tasteless? Or¡ªunless you usually read this type of thing?¡± Zen looked at Ito, his lips pressed together to hide his smirk.


    As Zen had intended, the prince¡¯s face had lost its usual stoicism and given way to a blush. ¡°No! I...I picked them myself, but obviously I couldn¡¯t tell what they were about¡­¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Zen flipped over the first book to look at the cover. Soft paint strokes in pastel colors depicted a woman and man in an embrace, their smiles suggestive. ¡°Ah, easy mistake.¡±


    Ito had turned away from him to hide his deepening flush. Though his hands were covering his face, he still managed to let out a light chuckle.


    ¡°Let me read some to you!¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s really no need¡­¡±


    Though Zen also found the content a little embarrassing, and definitely unrefined, he enjoyed Ito¡¯s reaction to his ceaseless teasing. Until now, Zen had been the recipient of the prince¡¯s subtle jokes. Such an opportunity might never arise again! This was how the two boys spent their time: the moon inching across the night sky, Zen reading and laughing in exaggerated voices (not to mention his quick-witted exaggeration of the extent of the poetry¡¯s debauchery), Ito groaning and suffering. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    In this manner, it took over an hour to read just the first few poems. Zen was still smiling as he put the book down on his lap. His eyelids were beginning to droop, and his cheeks were aching. But his head was clear.


    ¡°We should go back,¡± he said to Ito. The prince had suffered through his initial mortification and turned around to follow along over Zen¡¯s shoulder, even if he himself was unable to read the words.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he replied. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    The two returned to the palace, Zen evoking Auring¡¯s demeanor as he pestered the prince with questions, like ¡°Which poem was your favorite? Do you prefer poems when it¡¯s love at first sight or something more heavy, like yearning? Do you think you could get me a book with pictures for next time?¡±


    Next time. Realizing what he¡¯d implied, Zen quickly fired off a few more questions. It was his turn to feel presumptuous. Ito didn¡¯t acknowledge the question, but as they parted, approaching the palace stairs, Ito said, ¡°Ah, if you¡¯d like, I can bring real literature next time. If¡ª let me know if you want me to sneak you out again.¡±


    Next time. It had been the first night in a while that he hadn¡¯t lay awake agonizing over his troubled feelings. And the prince had just stated his willingness to do it again. I think I¡¯ll take him up on that.


    ¡ª


    True to his word, the prince brought a new collection of books to their next meeting. It took Zen two weeks to work up the courage to suggest they sneak out again. He probably just suggested a ¡°next time¡± to make me feel less awkward. He probably didn¡¯t like being teased the whole time. I really acted quite inappropriately, and to the prince! His fears were unfounded, though, because Ito had responded immediately with a carefree smile and a wink. This was enough for Zen to ignore the lingering stares and suspicions of his peers when the prince showed up to their room with the same excuse. Ayue¡¯s expression had been so piercing that Zen knew he¡¯d have to come up with a convincing story upon his return. This also didn¡¯t even bother him.


    The two sat on the same stone bench, cross-legged and facing each other. Ito had propped up an arm on his thigh and was resting his chin on his palm. His eyes followed along with Zen¡¯s finger as he read, slowly translating aloud. This book was a collection of fables and oral traditions. The style was simple enough for Zen to understand, though the black-and-white nature of its moral lessons was dull, in his opinion.


    After a while, Ito suddenly slapped his hand down on the book. Zen looked up, startled. Ito had a pained look on his face, like he was struggling to keep up his calm front.


    ¡°I have to tell you something,¡± the prince said, taking a deep breath. When Zen didn¡¯t respond, waiting for him to explain further, he continued, ¡°Remember in Goat¡¯s Song, when we talked about how the spirit must have come into contact with sorcery? There was an investigation, and...it¡¯s true. Two villagers there were using spiritual magic.¡±


    Zen was stunned. True, he had thought about the incident frequently, but he¡¯d imagined it would remain a haunting mystery. The thought that sorcery could somehow make a return was equally frightening and promising. ¡°How? But sorcery was destroyed?¡± he croaked.


    ¡°The sorcerers from way back must have hidden something that was only recently rediscovered. The two villagers wanted to test the methods they found, so they applied some kind of spell to the young boy before he¡¯d died. They knew he was being abused, and so it¡¯d be likely for him to transform after death.¡±


    ¡°Which villagers are they?¡± Zen had deduced that knowledge of the abuse had been widespread¡ªand widely ignored. He hadn¡¯t dared to think some sorcerer would exploit a child¡¯s abuse for experimentation. That lined up not with his parents¡¯ stories of courageous Gahi sorcerers but with the capital¡¯s propaganda about the campaign one hundred years past.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Our soldiers are bringing them here as we speak. They¡¯ll be executed at dawn.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Zen wasn¡¯t sure if he remembered how to breathe.


    ¡°I know a place we can hide to see it. Arlen isn¡¯t attending, and he doesn¡¯t want me to either. He said if we¡¯re there, it¡¯ll unsettle the cityfolk, make them think it¡¯s more serious than it is.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Zen repeated. He wasn¡¯t sure if he remembered any other words. He was almost certain he didn¡¯t want to see it. He was also sure that the prince wouldn¡¯t let him off easily. Maybe he isn¡¯t brave enough to go alone...but why would he want to go at all?


    ¡°From what I¡¯ve heard, there¡¯s going to have to be a regiment stationed in Goat¡¯s Song permanently. We don¡¯t know how much the other villagers could have been exposed to magic. Any of them could turn into spirits if they die now.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true.¡± Zen¡¯s words seemed to come from elsewhere. Not from himself.


    ¡°And more patrols will have to search the rest of the realm, in case there are more magical items or manuscripts being hidden. I can make sure you¡¯re on the patrol to your village, if you want.¡±


    Zen nodded robotically. ¡°Okay.¡± He didn¡¯t think this was doing him much of a favor, really.


    ¡°Security might be increased around the palace around dawn. We should probably stay out until then.¡±


    ¡°Mm.¡± Zen lowered his eyes back to the book. The words swam before his eyes, no longer decipherable. The thoughts he had managed to push to the back of his mind had resurfaced. He could feel the prince¡¯s gaze on him, but he didn¡¯t look up, nor did the prince ask him to read aloud again.


    After a few minutes of silence, Ito said, ¡°You can doze off if you want. I¡¯ll stay up.¡±


    Zen didn¡¯t protest. He set the books down by the prince and sat on the ground, leaning his head against the bench, his legs stretched out in front of him. By some miracle, when he closed his eyelids, sleep found him.


    He was shaken awake as the sun was climbing over the horizon. The prince was also blinking sleep out of his eyes as he helped Zen to his feet; he hadn¡¯t managed to stay awake after all. He¡¯d awoken just in time.


    The two hurried their way through the city streets towards the central square. Zen hadn¡¯t found it in him to abandon the plan, though he desperately wanted to. Since childhood, he¡¯d constructed graphic images in his mind of the notorious public executions held in the capital. Seeing one in person would be akin to someone living in one of their persistent nightmares.


    The city was beginning to come alive; market stalls were opening, laundry was being hung up from windows high and low to catch the sun¡¯s rays, and the murmur of the crowd was increasing in volume. It was as if no one expected a thing, no one imagined that the first public execution in one hundred years would be held. It was a fate reserved only for the practitioners of magic.


    The city square was located in the busiest part of the market area, right by the front gates. Those close by had begun to linger out of curiosity, watching the soldiers set up tall wooden stands on the cold stone ground.


    Ito led Zen to the flat roof of a building across from the square. Its distance ensured that they wouldn¡¯t be recognized by the executioners, but that they could still see it happen. They kneeled down, their heads peeking over the raised barrier around the roof¡¯s perimeter. Had there been no barrier, Zen was certain he would topple over the edge, light-headed as he was. He shot a glance at Ito, whose face had resumed its steely exterior. He forced himself to look back at the square. A larger crowd was gathering, now that it was impossible to deny that something was amiss.


    ¡°It¡¯s beginning,¡± Ito hissed.


    Zen swallowed nervously. He berated himself again for not pushing back against this idea. Why the fuck would I want to witness a public execution? Why would he?


    Five soldiers, primly decorated in their formal military attire, approached the square. Five villagers were being dragged along behind them, their hands cuffed together, their heads hanging down in exhaustion.


    ¡°I thought you said there were two sorcerers.¡±


    ¡°There were,¡± Ito replied. ¡°I guess they had accomplices.¡±


    Zen¡¯s stomach churned, and he leaned forward to get a better look. He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that history¡ªat least, the version he had grown up hearing¡ªwas repeating itself. This is collective punishment, not justice. They want to send a message. He didn¡¯t dare voice his thoughts, though. Maybe he would have a few days ago. Guess I didn¡¯t know the prince that well back then.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± Zen spat. He recognized two of the five people. They had reached the center of the square. Each stood in front of a wooden stand. The first was the old lady with cold eyes the patrol had first approached. This wasn¡¯t what surprised Zen. He couldn¡¯t tear his eyes from the women shivering in front of the third stand. Her face was staring blankly into the crowd, her youthful looks marred by her expression of terror. She was their age. ¡°It¡¯s Pila.¡± He whipped his head around to look at Ito, whose eyes had widened. ¡°You can¡¯t possibly suggest that she¡¯s an accomplice. She¡¯s a victim!¡±


    Ito¡¯s lips were parted in shock. He shook his head violently. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t arrest her if she hadn¡¯t done something wrong!¡± he insisted. Zen didn¡¯t notice the slight hints of doubt in his voice. Ito was practiced at wearing a mask, and he had donned it once more.


    Zen sat back on his heels. ¡°You can¡¯t possibly think that.¡±


    ¡°I can.¡±


    ¡°And the baby? What happens to her niece?¡± He remembered how the baby had cried when they¡¯d returned from the murder scene, how Pila¡¯s tired gray eyes had listened intently to Cai, how they¡¯d sparkled with sorrow but not surprise. How can the prince not remember any of that? How can he so quickly condemn this girl?


    ¡°She¡¯ll probably be brought to an orphanage here.¡± Another child abandoned. Cruelty answered with cruelty.


    The two had nothing more to say. They watched the execution unfold, watched in silence as the masses gasped, screamed, cheered in tandem.


    The soldiers tied the prisoners¡¯ hands together above their heads. Then, they stepped back a meter. Each held a stack of daggers in one hand. Slowly, one by one, the soldiers picked up the daggers, one-by-one, and cast them into the prisoners¡¯ bodies. One through the bound wrists. One in the heart. One in the stomach. Intestines burst forth from the less fortunate prisoners¡¯ torsos, as if carved by a butcher. One in each leg. Their bodies were nailed to the wooden stake, their heads drooping, blood spluttering from their mouths, from their wounds. The daggers, deeply embedded in human flesh and bone, had shone with the same silver intensity of that sword that had flashed before Zen¡¯s eyes in the spirit¡¯s house.


    It¡¯s like Ayue¡¯s story. These bodies will stay here for days, rotting. To make sure they don¡¯t turn in spirits. Right. Fucking gruesome.


    Zen wasn¡¯t sure how much time had passed between when the prisoners were executed and when he finally stood. Zen could feel himself on the verge of being sick, his legs threatening to buckle from beneath him. He flung off the servant¡¯s robes that had been his disguise and handed them to Ito.


    ¡°Your Highness,¡± he said hoarsely. He turned away before the other could respond, before he could follow. When Zen finished descending the building, he ran. He could barely stand properly, he could barely see through the veil of tears in his eyes, yet he ran until he reached the palace, ignoring the confused guards at the door. He ran until he was dressed in uniform and sitting beside Ayue at breakfast. He flashed Ayue a hollow smile, as if nothing were awry.


    For the rest of the day, the prisoner¡¯s limp bodies were all that he could see.

 Chapter 6: Twice on Tiptoes

    The prince had kept his promise, and Zen found himself on the next patrol back home. He was accompanied by three soldiers he hadn¡¯t met before; they all rode on horseback in silence. Though the trip wasn¡¯t particularly long, his lower body was aching from the constant rattling of his limbs against the saddle. He had never ridden a horse before arriving at the capital, and he was still woefully inadequate at it. If the horse sensed his discomfort, it paid him no heed.


    Owing to the events of the past weeks, this stop would be more than a routine visit. They were to scour the village and surrounding area for anything of magical substance. Zen was surprised that he was being entrusted with such a task, but he suspected they would closely watch his every move. He was relieved that he truly didn¡¯t know of anything incriminating. If we did have magical knowledge hidden somewhere, why wouldn¡¯t it have been put to use already? Used to help bring us out of our misery?


    It wasn¡¯t long before they reached the outskirts of the village. A wind- and rain-battered wooden sign greeted them: Welcome to Bafan. Zen felt oddly nervous. He hadn¡¯t expected to see home again so soon. He wondered if he¡¯d get the chance to see his parents, even if to give them only a brief embrace. If only he weren¡¯t at the mercy of his companions¡¯ kindness.


    They stopped at the fore of the village and tied their horses to some trees. Zen slipped to the back of the group, his fingers twiddling at his sides. The leading officer greeted the villagers nearby and turned to give orders to his patrol. Two were to search the buildings, and two were to search the surrounding woods.


    The officer glanced at Zen. ¡°You¡¯ll search the buildings in the front half of the village. I know you¡¯re from here. I trust you won¡¯t let your biases impede your duties or your...connections stall you for too long.¡±


    Zen dipped his head. ¡°I will not, sir.¡±


    The group split up, and Zen entered the first house. It would be a while before he would reach his parents¡¯ house, so he worked quietly and dutifully, only stopping momentarily to greet whomever lived or worked in each building. He didn¡¯t really know what he was looking for; after all, he had never seen anything used in magical practices. He supposed it would be really obvious. If not, then how would any of them know what to look for? Maybe this is just an act of intimidation. If I don¡¯t know what a manuscript or whatever looks like, I doubt these other soldiers do either. At the very least, if I end up missing something, it¡¯s not actually my fault. Not that the higher-ups would see it that way.


    At last, he reached the doorstep of his home. His hand hesitated on the door handle, but with an exhale, he pushed it open. When no one welcomed him in, he closed it quietly behind him and made his way to the kitchen. As he expected, his mother was too focused on her task at hand¡ªchopping an array of vegetables to put into a simmering stock¡ªto hear Zen enter.


    ¡°Mother,¡± he said gently, announcing his presence from the open doorway.


    She whisked around, almost dropping the knife in her hand. ¡°Oh!¡± she exclaimed, eyes bright. Realizing the dangers of being surprised while holding a weapon, she carefully put the knife down on the counter and rushed forward to embrace her son.


    Zen had grown a few inches in the half-year or so he¡¯d been gone, and his chin now comfortably rested on top of her head. He reached his arms around her and squeezed.


    ¡°Mother, I¡¯m just here for a little while. I¡¯m on patrol.¡±


    ¡°Patrol? How exciting! What for?¡± She stepped back and moved to pinch his cheeks, but he swatted her hand away.


    ¡°Ah, just sweeping the village for contraband,¡± he replied nonchalantly. He figured the news of the execution may not have reached the village yet; he didn¡¯t want to be the one to bear such a grim tale.


    ¡°Oh! Well, how is it up there? How are Ayue and the girls? Have you learned much?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I¡¯d rather be here. They¡¯re fine.¡± He paused, itching to change the topic. ¡°Where¡¯s Father?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s working in the quarry. I¡¯m afraid you won¡¯t be able to see him today. I¡¯ll let him know you were here and that you¡¯re well, of course.¡± She smiled, unable to resist hugging him again. ¡°Would you like to see how well my garden is doing? The soil has been so good to us this year.¡±


    ¡°I would, but I shouldn¡¯t idle any longer. I¡¯ll just skim through the house so the boss doesn¡¯t suspect me of anything, and I¡¯ll be on my way.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right.¡± The slight pain in her voice made Zen¡¯s stomach clench, but he threw her an unsuspecting smile as he walked into the bedroom.


    He kicked open a few drawers, not willing to rummage through their contents and disrupt his mother¡¯s meticulous organizing. He¡¯d seen it all before, of course, but he hoped to linger in this familiar atmosphere for just a bit longer under the guise of working.


    Sitting at the top of one drawer, a small toy drew his attention. He bent down to pick it up. It was a clay rattler, filled with small beads that rolled around inside as it shifted in his hands. The blue paint had long been chipped. This isn¡¯t mine. Where have I seen this before?


    ¡ª


    Zen was being pulled along by his father, his small legs barely able to keep up with their hurried pace. He couldn¡¯t see his father¡¯s face, but the grip on his arm was so firm¡ªto the point of being painful¡ªthat Zen could feel his anxiety. He didn¡¯t understand what was happening and couldn¡¯t help but feel bewildered. He¡¯d spent hours in a bumpy cart pulled by two hideous donkeys, and his parents had ignored all his complaints, choosing instead to fret over the crying baby in their arms. So what? All he does is cry.


    Then, they¡¯d arrived at another village. In truth, it was a city, much larger than Bafan. Buildings of stone and wood crowded together along cobbled streets, and the smell of animals and flowering vegetables that Zen was accustomed to was absent. Zen wanted to explore, to run down those streets and hear the sound of his leather shoes against stone; he had never been somewhere so mesmerizing. But his parents had other ideas, his wrist locked in his father¡¯s hand as if he were held prisoner.


    Passersby barely spared the family a glance, though they couldn¡¯t help peek over their shoulders at these strangers clad in southern-style peasant clothing, grief and confusion written across their faces. Zen was too young to recognize the city folk''s wariness.


    ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± his father said. They were standing in front of a small stone building, a clean wooden sign out front. ¡°Stay here, Zen.¡±


    Zen pouted and watched his parents walk inside, his mother cradling an ever-crying child in her trembling arms. He pressed himself to one of the windows in order to make out their conversation. He watched as a well-dressed man stepped out to greet them. He nodded respectfully to each one before speaking.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°What seems to be the matter?¡± His voice was soothing, Zen thought. He wondered why he was made to stand out in the street instead.


    He heard his mother say something, but her back was turned and her words were muffled. He saw her hold out the baby. The man didn¡¯t reach out, though, only inspecting the child from afar.


    ¡°What did your village doctor say?¡± the man asked.


    Zen¡¯s father shook his head. Zen only caught the back end of his reply, ¡°...to come here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid my services are a bit costly. You see, there is an illness going around these parts. I have many patients today.¡± As if to prove his point, a young woman peered out impatiently from further inside the building.


    Zen¡¯s father reached into his coat to hand something to the man. The man furrowed his brows slightly. This time he was the one to shake his head. ¡°That will not do.¡±


    When his mother let out a desperate shriek, Zen was so startled that he fell backwards. His elbows bore the brunt of the impact. By the time he stood up, mouth quivering, his parents had been ushered out of the building. His father¡¯s eyes had glazed over. He was completely unreadable. His mother was choking back sobs, shouting something back at the two people standing in the doorway. Begging, ¡°please help, please, have mercy.¡±


    Zen tugged on his father¡¯s sleeve. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    He was ignored. His father grabbed his wife¡¯s arm, saying in a low, measured voice, ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± She tried to slap him away with her free hand, but her blow was weak and she grabbed onto him instead.


    ¡°How could they refuse? Is it because we¡¯re-¡±


    ¡°Enough. We must leave.¡±


    Before being pulled away, Zen looked back at the doorway. ¡°Good riddance,¡± he heard someone mutter under their breath.


    He was too bewildered to speak on the way home. His father sat stone-still to his side, offering neither explanation to his son nor comfort to his wife. Tears streamed down her face as she looked down at the child she held in one arm. Her other hand clutched onto a small blue rattle, the beads inside tinkling with every jolt of the cart.


    ¡ª


    His brother had died only days later from some unknown sickness. His parents never mentioned him once the funeral was held. He had come to his own bitter conclusions. Once, when a young Zen had been particularly contending with the isolation that comes with being an only child, he¡¯d tugged on his mother¡¯s dress and asked when he could have another sibling. She¡¯d just sighed and swatted his hand away, avoiding the pointed stare her husband had directed her way.


    ¡°Don¡¯t concern yourself with such matters,¡± his father had chastised. He¡¯d grown even more distant than Zen was accustomed to. Especially towards his wife. Not that they¡¯d been an affectionate couple in the first place.


    Zen stuffed the rattler back into the drawer and rushed to finish his duties. He couldn¡¯t shake the pangs of loneliness that had begun to ache throughout him like an old wound. He threw only a quick ¡°goodbye, Mother, love you¡± over his shoulder as he left.


    ¡ª


    The sun had long since set, and the moon was but a sliver in the sky as it inched towards midnight. Zen stood outside of a building on the edge of the residential area in the capital. It was the first time he had broken curfew on his own. Luckily, the first person in the block he¡¯d approached had given him accurate directions. The man had barely looked up from his pipe when speaking.


    Zen took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He could see that there was a light inside, and he could hear someone¡¯s soft voice pause at the sound. After a few moments, the door cracked open.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    Zen clasped his hands behind his back. ¡°Um, hello. Ah, is this the orphanage?¡±


    The door opened a little wider. ¡°Yes, why?¡± A girl in her teens was peering at him with wide brown eyes. Choppy dark hair framed her round face.


    ¡°Er, this is a little hard to explain. Did you recently get a new infant? From Goat¡¯s Song? I, uh, went there on patrol before...everything happened.¡±


    ¡°Mm, we did. You saw her before?¡±


    Zen was shifting from leg to leg nervously. ¡°Yeah. I guess I just wanted...to check in on her. I hope I¡¯m not intruding.¡±


    The girl¡¯s expression softened. ¡°Not at all.¡± She opened the door for him. ¡°You¡¯re welcome inside. I¡¯m Farrah.¡±


    ¡°Zen.¡± He stepped inside the house. The first room¡ªnormally a reception room¡ªhad been turned into a bedroom. There were two cradles with infants, and two mats that served as beds. One was empty, while the other had two young girls fast asleep.


    ¡°She¡¯s over here,¡± Farrah whispered, gesturing to one of the cribs. ¡°Her name is Yara.¡±


    Zen walked over to the side of the cradle, while Farrah settled down on the empty mat. He looked down at the wrinkled face of the sleeping infant. For a moment, he felt like he had been transported to the previous decade, standing on his tip-toes to survey the new addition to his home. He snapped out of it and shot a glance at Farrah, who was watching him shyly.


    ¡°You work here?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Mm, I¡¯ve taken over for my mother. She¡¯s ill and can¡¯t work anymore.¡± She smiled softly. ¡°There are even more in the bedroom. They¡¯re an absolute handful!¡±


    Zen chuckled. Judging by her dark, puffy eyes, that was an understatement. ¡°Are most of these kids from Tanac?¡±


    ¡°All but the two babes.¡±


    ¡°Ah. And Yara...how is she holding up?¡±


    Farrah sighed. A tinge of sadness in her voice, she responded, ¡°The poor thing. I don¡¯t know what happened to her before they brought her here. She cries more than she sleeps. I¡¯m blessed to have this moment of peace, really.¡±


    So not everyone knows the whole story. Zen decided telling her wouldn¡¯t be of any help, even if it might help to deflect any of her suspicions regarding his motives for visiting. Though he knew the matter had been out of his hands, he couldn¡¯t help but feel partially responsible. I brought up to the prince that sorcery may have been involved. What if I hadn¡¯t said anything? Would everything still have happened the same? But he couldn¡¯t explain this to her. He didn¡¯t want to burden her, not when she was still free from the disquieting feelings his knowledge had brought him.


    ¡°Who are you, anyway? You¡¯re not from here, are you?¡± Farrah piped up.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m a trainee. I¡¯m from the south.¡± He flinched, fully expecting her to react with disdain. Instead, she just ¡°ohh¡±ed and blinked up at him. ¡°I¡¯m from a village called Bafan.¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t heard of it. Is it nice there?¡± Before he could respond, she continued, ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡ªI¡¯m being rude. Please, sit down!¡± She patted the mat beside her.


    He obliged, leaning back on his palms. ¡°It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s pretty small, nothing like this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never left Tanac,¡± she said, voice filled with awe. ¡°I think I should like the farmland. The city is so overwhelming at times.¡±


    The two exchanged more small talk for a while, until Zen felt guilty for disrupting what could be her best chance at sleep. But he¡¯d found her easy to talk to, simple and accepting of the duty she had inherited. Something about her was refreshingly gentle.


    ¡°Is night time usually so peaceful?¡± he asked, standing up to be on his way.


    ¡°No, not always. Sometimes these babes struggle to sleep through the night.¡± Farrah also stood, smoothing her skirts down before going to open the door for him.


    ¡°I...I don¡¯t mean to be a bother, but would my presence be a help at all, if I came at night sometimes?¡± Zen was blurting out before he¡¯d had time to consider his words. ¡°I could help, and you could get more rest?¡±


    ¡°Now, why would you want to do that?¡± Her eyes sparkled with laughter. He was about to stammer an embarrassed reply, but she waved him away. ¡°You¡¯re free to come anytime. Don¡¯t be getting in trouble, though.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± he promised. ¡°Thanks.¡± He crept down into the abandoned city streets and made his way back to the palace.

 Chapter 7: Fourth Times the Charm

    ¡°What¡¯s happening tomorrow?¡± Farrah asked. She was lying down on the mat, tucked inside a thin blue blanket. Her eyelids were half-closed with sleep.


    Zen was stretched out on the floor nearby, close to the cribs where the infants were sleeping. It had been around five months since the first time he¡¯d come to the orphanage, and the two babes had grown rapidly right before his eyes. He tried to visit Farrah once or twice a week; it was an escape from the routine of training and a redress for his persistent guilt. Over time, the kids had gotten better at sleeping through the night, but he continued to visit nonetheless. He had also discovered a fondness for children he didn¡¯t know he had. It was like making up for the time he had lost from his brother.


    ¡°There¡¯s some ceremony the Sovereign Prince is holding to mark one year since the new law and the arrival of us new recruits. We had to memorize some drills and choreography for it,¡± Zen replied.


    ¡°Are you looking forward to it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he scoffed. ¡°At least afterwards we¡¯ll get a change in pace. Those who pass either written exams or physical testing can move on to specialized classes or working for the city.¡±


    ¡°And what do you want to do?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Zen sighed. ¡°I¡¯m only good at fighting, but I don¡¯t want to join the guard.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Why not?¡± Farrah blinked at him curiously. Naturally, the guard held prestige in her eyes. They protected the realm, after all, and wouldn¡¯t let just anyone into their ranks.


    Zen didn¡¯t want to explain his disgust towards the ranks, how they carried out injustices in cities and villages she had never heard by name. He only shrugged wordlessly and dropped his head to the ground. Farrah hummed softly and closed her eyes as well.


    Zen woke up before dawn had broken over the horizon. While Farrah slept, he hurriedly prepared a savory porridge in the kitchen, tossing a variety of haphazardly-chopped vegetables into the pot. By the time Farrah and the older children had begun to awake, breakfast had been poured into a selection of mismatched bowls, fresh water had been retrieved from a well, and Zen had disappeared into the morning air.


    Zen had no problem making it back in time for the recruits¡¯ breakfast at the cafeteria. Ayue was already surrounded by other recruits Zen hadn¡¯t bothered to learn by name when he arrived, so he ate his selection of cold cured meats and cabbage soup alone. They were reunited in the training grounds, milling about in wait for the arrival of the Sovereign Prince and his wife.


    Zen had zoned out trying to pick a conversation to eavesdrop on. From behind, he heard the murmur of two people¡ªa man and woman. He heard, ¡°don¡¯t worry, everything is set,¡± in a familiar voice. He frowned slightly, struggling to understand the feelings of disquiet and recognition that had stirred in his gut. However, when he turned around, he only saw Auring walking towards them. Oh no, he groaned internally, quickly spinning around before she mistook their eye contact for an invitation to converse.


    By his side, Ayue was also trying to get his attention. ¡°Oi, Zen, you¡¯ve been so out of it recently. Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t noticed you sneaking out all the time!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± he replied drily.


    ¡°Have you found a mistress or something? You can tell me, my lips are sealed!¡±


    Zen choked, and he swore he heard someone wheeze in shock nearby. ¡°No! Shut up! You¡¯re talking so loud everyone can hear you. Don¡¯t be ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°Then where do you go? Don¡¯t you trust me?¡± Ayue was looking at him with those pair of puppy-dog eyes again. It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t trust you, per se, I just want to keep this to myself. He felt slightly guilty that the things he kept from his closest friend since childhood continued to pile up. He wasn¡¯t sure why his explanations would melt in his mouth whenever Ayue questioned him.


    ¡°I¡­It¡¯s not that.¡±


    The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the Sovereign Prince and his entourage. Zen was close enough to get a good look at the ruler. He had light brown hair secured neatly in a bun. His face was soft, devoid of sharp lines and fierce expression. Looking at him was a test of Zen¡¯s deadpan; he had always imagined all princes to be handsome, in a sort of militant way. This one couldn¡¯t be further from those inventions. Besides the stupidly extravagant dress, he doesn¡¯t look much like his cousin. Zen stopped that train of thought before he could ponder its implications.


    Sovereign Prince Arlen stood in between two bodyguards. Behind him were three drummers, who commanded silence in the crowd with a few mere beats of their instruments. Ayue straightened up at Zen¡¯s side to listen to the Sovereign Prince¡¯s speech. Zen paid little attention to the fanciful words of the royal. He was uninterested in listening to empty words that waxed poetic about the importance of the new generation.


    When he concluded his speech, the sword master took his place at the front of the crowd. Zen could see the beads of sweat on his forehead and, even at such a distance, the glare on his face as he begged internally for these youths to achieve perfection. Any mishap or sloppiness would only reflect poorly on his abilities. Luckily for him, the marching drills and choreographed sword performances went without a hitch. Hours upon hours of practice had paid off. Zen hadn¡¯t even broken a sweat.


    If only the same could be said of the duels.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Zen was looking forward to this segment of the ceremony. In recent weeks, he had progressed from standing his ground against the prince to occasionally winning in practice. He had learned to use his height advantage against Ito, who lagged behind Zen¡¯s growth spurt by a few inches. Months of tireless drilling had also improved Zen¡¯s stamina, so much so that he could maintain his aggressive posture almost as easily as the prince maintained his lithe, quick-footed stance. Moreover, the one intervening variable¡ªtheir nerves¡ªwas equally unfavorable to both. Zen saw this as the opportunity to prove himself against the royalty he scorned. Ito faced the pressure of performing well in front of his cousin and demonstrating his worthiness as heir. Before this moment, they had never been so evenly matched.


    After a minute of the teens scrambling to locate and stand by their sparring partner, the matches began. The sword master had placed the most impressive duels at the fore. Naturally, Zen and the prince were front and center¡ªa fact that had boosted Zen¡¯s ego, just a bit. Some older kids who hadn¡¯t yet graduated from the introductory training were nearby, as well as Auring and an older girl, who were also at the top of the class. But Zen didn¡¯t see them. He only needed to see his opponent.


    A roll of the drums kicked off the show. Zen struck the first blow. Be aggressive at the start. It was an overhand cleave. The prince easily blocked it, but the wince that flashed across his face for a mere half-second betrayed the energy that parry had demanded. Zen aimed another strike, this time towards the stomach. Ito dodged and launched a series of quick strikes in retaliation. These were all blocked as well. At this point, both boys were panting, open-mouthed, not even sure if the Sovereign Prince were witnessing the performance they were pouring everything into.


    Zen slowed down his offensive. He had sufficiently tired out his opponent, but he didn¡¯t want to lose too much momentum. He allowed himself to take note of his surroundings. Arlen had drawn close to the first row. His gaze flickered from the two boys to the other duels nearby, revealing nothing. His bodyguards stuck to his side, glancing about the block, on edge. As if there could be a threat with this much security. We¡¯re using toy weapons, and we¡¯re surrounded by guards! The crown¡¯s paranoia was almost amusing.


    He focused his attention back to the battle at hand. Ito was biting his lip as he parried and struck. His teeth had pierced skin, and a droplet of blood was slowly erupting to the surface. His sleek up-do had loosened, stray hairs sticking to his temples. Zen, too, showed signs of wear. His jaw was aching, as he alternated between gritting his teeth and letting them clatter together upon impact in turn. He could feel the curls at the nape of his neck clinging to his damp skin. He could feel himself lose control over his heightened senses. Though his eyes wouldn¡¯t stray from the two swords, from the wheezing prince, ever graceful in his movements, his ears would pick up on random sounds from outside their bubble. A shout. Perhaps someone had accidentally injured their partn¡ªopponent. A sharp intake of breath. Maybe someone had lost their footing, had fumbled their riposte.


    Zen didn¡¯t have to speculate about the noise that followed.


    ¡°All hail the Sovereign Prince!¡± someone shrieked nearby. The woman¡¯s voice rasped from the effort of the shout.


    Both Zen and Ito were startled, their swords only weakly clanging against each other. When they jumped back, neither initiated the next attack. Their illusion had been shattered. Curiosity¡ªand perhaps a pinch of dread¡ªhad strangled their concentration.


    The next few seconds crawled by.


    Zen inclined his head to the right, where the voice came from. A girl was standing still, her mouth open in shock. One weapon was in her hand, another at her feet. Another girl was rushing forward, one hand reaching into the robes of her plain gray trainees¡¯ outfit. It was...Auring?


    She was headed for the Sovereign Prince. There was only a meter between the two. When she ignored one bodyguard¡¯s warning to stop where she was, the two guards stepped forward to block her way. She quickly leapt to the side and threw whatever it was she had pulled out at the three men.


    There was a shattering sound as one guard swiped the object out of the air with his sword. They were all immediately doused in thick liquid. It was clear and slick, without fragrance.


    ¡°NOW!¡± she shouted, spinning around to look behind her. A smile lingered on her face, which was otherwise contorted with effort.


    Amidst the confusion, the trainees had all stopped their duels. There was no metallic sound of metal on metal to disguise the twang of a bowstring.


    Auring threw herself at the nearest bodyguard, knocking him away from the Sovereign Prince. The guard cursed and swung his weapon at her. She didn¡¯t dodge, didn¡¯t duck. Her eyes were fearless as the blade sliced through her neck. Her body crumpled to the ground, her head barely attached to the rest of her body. It lolled to the side, exposing the flesh and bones of her throat, letting forth a burst of blood onto the guard¡¯s boots.


    At the same time, the other guard stepped in front of Arlen, weapon raised in an attempt to block the arrow whistling through the air. He missed, the sound of a sword slicing through thin air abundantly obvious. The arrow lodged into his shoulder. A shout escaped from his lips as he fell to his knees, his uniform bursting into flame.


    Oil. She¡¯d thrown oil at the Sovereign Prince. The bodyguard had only just blocked the flaming arrow from piercing Arlen, except with his body instead of his sword. The fire had spread across the rest of his clothing and skin in seconds, flames lapping at limbs, singeing his hair. His screams were overpowered by the commotion as the guards surrounding the block moved forth to seize the archer and secure the area.


    ¡°Who is this?¡± the bodyguard standing above Auring¡¯s dead body was shouting at the bewildered teens.


    Zen was frozen, his eyes locked onto the girl¡¯s corpse. Vague memories were flitting through his mind. A woman¡¯s voice, saying ¡®everything is set¡¯ to a stranger. Auring peppering Prince Ito with questions about him and his cousin. Intentions masked with girlish innocence. A woman and man discussing something vague in a forest outside the capital. ¡®I¡¯ll help you.¡¯


    She had been planning this for months. And she¡¯d failed, she¡¯d martyred herself for the sake of one nameless bodyguard who would writhe on the ground as he boiled alive, overlooked in the chaos that ensued.


    Zen glanced up to see Prince Ito being dragged away by his own bodyguards. He was struggling in their grip, something akin to panic blazing in his eyes as he tried to look behind him, in Zen¡¯s direction.


    ¡°¡ªthe southerners! They may be her accomplices!¡± Arlen¡¯s remaining bodyguard was yelling.


    Arlen had stepped forward, eerily calm. He glanced down at the bodyguard¡¯s feet. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to kill her,¡± he chastised. ¡°Now we won¡¯t be able to interrogate her.¡±


    ¡°Sir,¡± he replied breathily. ¡°We will find those responsible. No threat to Your Highness will go unpunished.¡±


    ¡°See that you do.¡±


    Zen felt a foot on his back. He stumbled to the ground, catching himself on his hands and knees. When he tried to turn around, the foot forced him all the way to the ground, the rough stone street scraping at his cheek and neck. A hiss escaped through his teeth.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± he heard a boy shout as someone grabbed his hands, looping them in something rough and scratchy.


    She failed. All she¡¯s done is implicate the rest of us, Zen thought as he felt a hand chop at the back of his neck. The jolt of pain gave way to red and black dots.

 Chapter 8: The Fourth Question

    ¡°This is the kid always hanging around His Highness Prince Ito.¡±


    Zen opened his eyes to suffocating darkness. He felt a dull throbbing at the back of his neck. He lurched forward from his kneeling position, catching himself on his hands. His wrists were rubbed raw where they¡¯d been bound. The stone floor under his fingers was cool and damp. He choked on the overwhelming scent of blood and shit.


    ¡°The boy¡¯s awake,¡± someone said. Zen lifted his head to try to look at them, but a kick to his ribs made him double over.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go easy on him for now,¡± another voice said. ¡°At least until he proves uncooperative.¡±


    The other person clicked his tongue. ¡°Fine.¡± He cupped Zen¡¯s chin in his hand. ¡°You know what we want?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Zen growled. Obviously, he did. His heart was beginning to pound with the realization of what he was about to face. He could easily guess that every Gahi trainee had been rounded up for interrogation. Zen looked doubly suspicious; not only did he come from the same village as Auring, he also was constantly in the presence of Prince Ito. Were someone to make an attempt on the prince¡¯s life, he would be the ideal perpetrator.


    ¡°Then lemme spell it out for you. We¡¯d like to know more about this Auring girl and her accomplice. Who else are they working with? Which family is she from? What did you know about the attempted assassination? Things like that.¡±


    Zen remained silent. They won¡¯t be satisfied no matter what I say. I¡¯m already guilty to them. If I can just endure a little bit of this¡­


    The more outspoken guard grabbed Zen by the hair and yanked his head back in a quick, forceful motion. ¡°We¡¯ll start out easy on you,¡± he chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re from her village. Who¡¯s her father, her mother?¡±


    He gritted his teeth in response. Shouldn¡¯t they know this? He briefly wondered if Ayue was undergoing the same treatment. His brows knit together with worry. I hope they go easy on him.


    ¡°Staying quiet even for this? Alright, alright.¡± The guard let go of his hair and stood up. Zen couldn¡¯t see what he was doing. The cell was pitch black except for a brief flicker of light from the corner. He heard the hollow sounds of the man approaching him again, and he flinched instinctively.


    ¡°We¡¯re just trying to keep the realm safe,¡± he cooed, puffing smoke in Zen¡¯s face. ¡°We¡¯ve kept you safe, your family safe, we¡¯ve invited you into our city. And you repay us with this?¡± He tsked. ¡°Anything you know will help us.¡±


    The guard tapped his pipe, letting the burning ashes flutter down Zen¡¯s nose, onto his collarbone and his shirt. Zen hissed and swatted at the flakes, but the guard grabbed his hand and yanked him up. His knees were wobbly as he was forced to stand, his hands restrained once more, this time tied to something hanging from the low ceiling. He tossed a desperate glance at where he thought the other guard was, but there was no reaction.


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask again,¡± the guard said, his voice light and airy. Zen couldn¡¯t tell where the guard was. His head hung down, his eyes squeezed closed. Every breath he took was conscious. ¡°What do you know?¡±


    He didn¡¯t give the boy much of a chance to respond before kicking him in the back of the knee. Zen stumbled forward, but his outstretched arms caught himself before his knees hit the ground. He bobbed up and down with the momentum of the fall, feeling as if his arms were straining in their sockets.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t know anything, you can tell us that. We don¡¯t expect everyone to be involved.¡± The other guard was speaking now, a little shakily. He sounded young. ¡°You just have to realize that you always pairing up with His Highness...well, it doesn¡¯t look good.¡±


    Zen didn¡¯t know if this was a trick. I really don¡¯t know anything!


    ¡°Still nothing? Oi, Marek, should I break his ribs or his nose first?¡±


    The young guard clearly didn¡¯t want to be the one to make such a grim choice. It was made for him, with a hearty punch to Zen¡¯s chest.


    ¡°Fuck!¡± Zen yelped over the sound of cracking bone. His eyes began to sting with tears, and his fingers were clenching and unclenching in desperation, trying to find something to clutch onto.


    ¡°He speaks! Tell me, what do you know?¡±


    Zen bit the inside of his cheeks so hard he began to taste blood. Fuck, it hurts, this hurts.


    ¡°I broke your ribs, don¡¯t you believe me? I can show you.¡±


    There was a slight scraping sound, like the guard was pulling something out of his belt, and then there was the icy touch of metal on skin. Zen gasped as the knife pricked his chest, right above his bruised ribs. The guard traced a straight line across his abdomen.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know anything! I don¡¯t know anything!¡± Zen cried out, struggling in his restraints. He kicked out one of his legs and made contact. The guard huffed and carved the knife deeper into his body, until it touched splintered bone. White heat seared through the boy¡¯s body. So engulfed in a wave of pain, he couldn¡¯t hear himself scream, curses echoing throughout the dark chamber.


    Zen didn¡¯t realize that the guard had removed the knife and stepped away until several agonizing moments later, when the pain had finally dulled enough for him to feel anything else. His jaw hung open slightly, the saliva gathering at the corners of his mouth and under his tongue tasting of metal.


    He began to babble, gasping and groaning between words, ¡°I didn¡¯t know anything! Her- her f-father is Alyson Aleksander, he¡¯s a m-merchant. Ah, that¡¯s all I know, I swear. We¡¯re not c-close, agh, to her or her family. The other man, I don¡¯t know who he is-¡±


    ¡°How do you know the murderer was a man?¡± the man snarled, grabbing the collar of Zen¡¯s shirt and yanking it upwards to force the boy to look him in the eye.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Zen¡¯s choked. Shit shit shit. Lying was difficult when his nerves were set aflame. He hadn¡¯t noticed his slip of the tongue until he could smell the rank breath of the interrogator. ¡°I- I¡¯m just assuming, I know nothing!¡± A sob broke free from his throat. ¡°Please, you must believe me!¡± I¡¯m so pathetic I¡¯m so pathetic I¡¯m so pathetic.


    ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s say that¡¯s true. How do you explain your relationship with His Highness Prince Ito?¡±


    ¡°We just train together, that¡¯s all! The sword master thought I was the best fit!¡± The sound of his own voice infuriated him. There was no evidence of any wrongdoing on his part, and yet here he was, grovelling at the feet of two lowly soldiers. Their hatred for him was palpable. His hatred had dissolved into desperation at the mere sensation of pain. Pathetic pathetic.


    The nicer guard butted in. ¡°The sword master has confirmed this. Let¡¯s go look into this business about her father before moving on. Maybe we¡¯ll get more out of him later.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± Zen felt a glob of spit land on his neck and ooze down his shirt. He didn¡¯t have the energy to flinch.


    As he heard the cell door click closed, he took a deep breath and shouted, ¡°Fuck the Sovereign Prince and all the other princes! I hope next time the arrow goes straight through their fucking bastard brains!¡± It was the least he could do to make it up to himself.


    ¡°Ignore him, ignore him,¡± the nice guard urged when the other made an angry sound low in his throat. Zen heard the thud of their boots as they walked away.


    He was alone. He strained his ears for a sign that someone he knew was locked up nearby, but heard nothing. The pain from his injuries cycled in an ebb and flow. The blood seeping from the wound in his abdomen slowed to a gentle trickle. His shirt clung to his skin, sticky and warm. He wondered if he¡¯d bleed out before someone else came.


    It was hard to measure time down there. He was really only lucid when the pain receded. Sometimes, at those moments, he¡¯d try to relax, forgetting that he was locked into a standing position. His knees would buckle, and he¡¯d be jerked upwards again, his joints threatening to pop out of place.


    At some point, he heard the click of a key entering a lock. He hadn¡¯t heard any footsteps approach. Back already? His mind went blank in a panic, and he twisted in his restraints. ¡°I told you!¡± he screeched. ¡°I don¡¯t know! Please-¡± His throat was too dry to continue. His sentence ended in a cough that shot daggers through his tongue and throat.


    Then, the restraints at his hands loosened. Limbs trembling, he collapsed onto the ground, knees and palms slapping at the cold floor. He slumped over further, letting his forehead touch the stone between his knees. Dread shot through him; such a show of mercy could only be followed by something even worse than before.


    He opened his mouth to plead again¡ªyou¡¯re so pathetic, you deserve this¡ªbut a hand slapped over it, and another hand at his neck guided his head upwards. He whimpered into the palm.


    ¡°Don¡¯t shout,¡± a soft voice hissed into his ear.


    Zen froze in shock. When he made no sign of protesting, the hand lifted. ¡°What the hell are you doing here?¡± he spluttered.


    ¡°I came to help you. And, well, to get your help. Um, there¡¯s something suspicious going on, I found something, but I¡¯m not sure what to make of it¡­¡±


    ¡°Your Highness,¡± Zen replied drily. ¡°You couldn¡¯t get someone not locked up? And who isn¡¯t half-dead?¡±


    The prince paused. ¡°I don¡¯t know who else I¡¯d ask.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried about being seen with your attempted murderer?¡± Zen¡¯s mind was too foggy to keep up with his shock. Is the prince an idiot? was all it could manage.


    ¡°I know you weren¡¯t in on it. And that you won¡¯t kill me.¡±


    Zen remembered his parting words to his torturers and barked, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure.¡±


    Ito clicked his tongue impatiently and placed a hand on Zen¡¯s back. He didn¡¯t even entertain Zen¡¯s threat. ¡°Listen, I¡¯m taking you to my room. You need to hide around the corner while the on-duty guards come back. I sent them away saying there was something they had to take care of and that my bodyguards would keep watch. I¡¯ll make sure no one sees us. We have to go now.¡±


    Zen let the prince help him to his feet. He was surprised he was still able to walk. Well, ¡°walk¡± was perhaps an exaggeration. They moved at the pace of a shuffle, Zen leaning his entire weight into Ito¡¯s shoulder as the prince held him upright with an arm at the waist. Zen¡¯s arms felt lifeless at his sides, and each step sent needles through his ribs.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about my bodyguards seeing you. They¡¯re loyal to me,¡± Ito whispered as they neared the entrance to the jail. The torchlight illuminated their silhouettes. Their shadows, stretched out along the gray floor, were barely recognizable as humans. The prince only now could see the state Zen was in¡ªthe smattering of burn marks across his nose, the way his wrists were rubbed raw, the large bloodstain across his shirt. Wordlessly, he shed his coat and wrapped it around Zen.


    Two guards were lounging outside the door. Even knowing they were the prince¡¯s, Zen¡¯s heart began to pound faster. But he let himself be guided into a corner by the staircase that led out of the underground dungeon. The prince helped him sit down, his hands hesitant and careful everywhere they touched, and he huddled in wait.


    Though his bleeding had stopped¡ªin part because he could now clamp his hand over the wound¡ªhe could feel his consciousness faltering. Prince Ito was casually chatting with his bodyguards, but his words were slurring in Zen¡¯s ears. His eyelids were too heavy to open; it was as if he were falling asleep in class again, but his usual boredom-induced daydreams were replaced with scattered thoughts of so thirsty...can¡¯t breathe...it hurts to breathe. Maybe if he closed his eyes tight enough, these thoughts and feelings would fade.


    Zen was too far gone to hear two people approach, their armor clinking with each step.


    ¡°Your Highness, all is dealt with.¡± The speaker¡¯s voice was laced with confusion. Whatever they¡¯d been sent to do must have been trivial, or not befitting of their ranks, but they didn¡¯t dare question the prince.


    ¡°Thank you. We will be off now.¡±


    ¡°Ah, Your Highness, was everything okay here? Aren¡¯t you missing your¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Nonsense. Nothing was amiss.¡± His tone was so matter-of-fact that he could have been standing there in naught but his underclothes and the guards would be convinced that he hadn¡¯t even blinked since they left.


    Zen felt a pair of arms help him to his feet. It was much more difficult to stand than it was before. He still couldn¡¯t open his eyes; it was much too tiresome to try. He felt someone lift him into their arms; Zen managed a semi-coherent thought of did Ito get taller? And bigger? He realized they were walking up the staircase. It must¡¯ve been out of sight of the jail entrance for them to get away with it.


    Zen felt himself lowered to the ground, and an arm snaked around his waist again. ¡°They¡¯re gonna scout ahead of us to make sure no one is outside my room, and then I¡¯ll help you there...You with me?¡± the prince whispered.


    ¡°Mm,¡± he grunted. He was clutching onto the front of Ito¡¯s shirt for balance. His head hung down to his chest, and he could feel the prince¡¯s breaths against his ear. Stay awake stay awake, he was chanting in his head, trying to clear the thickness in his head and his limbs.


    He didn¡¯t hear what the prince said next, but he felt him urge them forward. He didn¡¯t know how he got his legs to cooperate, but his body didn¡¯t give out until he was lowered onto a soft carpet floor. His head touching the cushy fabric, he finally let himself pass out.