Two hundred and some odd years ago...

“If you want your endless playing around with swords to have some meaning, come with me.” Ka’shin’lai did not wait around to see what his younger brother would do. He turned on his heel, loose black hair, long sleeves, and the top layer of his clothes fanning out around him elegantly before he continued on his way.

Eun’s sharp eyebrows knit together and the corners of his mouth turned down slightly. He looked over at Ves’hil’n who looked down at him at the same time. Ves’hil’n grinned, then, with a sloppy, goofy flourish, bowed low at the waist, “Requesting permission from Teacher to leave lessons early?”

Eun fought to not roll his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. “Just go. If the Crown Prince wants you, who am I to keep you?”

Ves’hil’n jogged after his brother, turning halfway around to wave, “thanks for the spar, Tejara!”

Eun’s eyes slid away from Ves’hil’n and widened when he found Ka’shin’lai waiting for Ves’hil’n at the end of the covered hall. Ka’shin’lai didn’t usually show concern for this wild little brother of his. He was too busy learning diplomacy and law, learning to be king, while Ves’hil’n ran around freely, doing whatever he pleased.

Ka’shin’lai’s expressions towards Ves’hil’n were usually ones of exasperation or mild disapproval, but in that moment Ka’shin’lai looked at Ves’hil’n with concern and sadness.

That look frightened Eun. The desire to call Ves’hil’n back surged up within him but it was too late, the two royal brothers had already stepped through the doorway and disappeared from view.

“...I will take my leave, Master Eun.” Eun’s soul, which was chasing after Ves’hil’n returned abruptly to his body and he looked down at the bowing Tejara.

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Feeling his hands and heart itch nervously, Eun shook his head, “no. Stay and spar with me.”

Tejara’s eyes widened in surprise but relaxed quickly, “yes, sir.”

*

Ves’hil’n followed his brother to one of the meeting halls of the palace, where their father and a random woman was waiting. The woman turned to face them, then bowed low to the princes. The king didn’t seem to notice his sons until the woman bowed. He tore his eyes away from the documents scattered across the table in front of him to look at Ka’shin’lai, then at Ves’hil’n, before his eyes once more settled on his eldest, “You brought Ves’hil’n.”

Ka’shin’lai, with his ever straight spine, bent slightly in his father’s direction, “He is an excellent warrior, second only to Swordmaster Eun himself. If the soothsayer,” his eyes flicked to the woman, “suggests a small group of highly skilled warriors from the three nations rather than sending our armies to face the Lord of the Demons then perhaps we should consider sending him.”

Ves’hil’n’s brows furrowed, “demons?” he looked between the three other people in the room.

It was the young and pretty soothsayer that answered, “Demons have begun appearing in the Kuvir Plains, already wiping out the nomadic tribes and burning their way through the Borderwood faster than my dreams could warn.” A look of pure desolation crossed her features and her bottom lip quivered, “I had my first dream of this invasion the night before a ranger from the Borderwood arrived to warn the Xora king.” She looked down at the documents on the table, placing her hand down on a map of Kon. “The enchantments set by the sorcerer’s of Daraien in the Borderwood and the stealthy warfare of the rangers should slow the demonic invaders down but still... it won’t take long before...”

“Before the border towns of Kon are swallowed up.” The King interrupted, scowling darkly down at the map. “This Xora soothsayer suggests we send our armies to slow down their main force and send a small group of elites after their homebase and leader. And your brother has just volunteered you.”

Ves’hil’n glanced at Ka’shin’lai, who was staring resolutely at the soothsayer. Before Ves’hil’n was a chance, a chance to prove himself to a father and brother who always looked down at him with disapproval. The sword at Ves’hil’n’s waist seemed to tremble excitedly at the prospect of drawing blood. “I accept this mission, Father.”