The kitchen opened at seven hours, but even before, the tangy smell of salted meats, aged cheeses, and honey-glazed breads tantalized Thaeolai. The aroma only emboldened the rattling of her empty stomach, and as the kitchen slats opened at the far end of the great hall – cooks ready to disperse the food – Thaeolai’s feet carried her without thought.
As fast as she might’ve been, however, Khoulane was faster. The small, skinny else darted to the front of the line and took the first plate, his eyes and mouth both watering at the prospect of a filling meal. Thaeolai considered the eye-watering a tad dramatic, but once her gaze fell on a full plate awaiting her, she understood.
Thaeolai gladly accepted her meal and went to follow Khoulane back to their table. Before Khoulane could make it past the line, however, a golden-skinned siephall stepped out and swiped Khoulane’s plate from the boy’s hands.
“Thank you, serf,” the siephall sneered.
A few others chuckled behind the soldier, and Khoulane backed away – startled and confused. His eyes whisked around, and then he solemnly turned away and carried on toward the table, choosing against confrontation. Thaeolai followed, but her eyes centered on the siephall. Her blood boiled. In her head, she recited the spell Isec taught her.
A-eiwal electri. A-eiwal electri…
In the crowded line, under the cover of the chatter, she brushed closeby the siephall. Then, as she passed, she activated her medium. She opened her hand and hovered her fingers loosely above the siephall’s wrist. A quick, silent utterance later, a triad of electrodes zapped at the siephall’s wrist. He jumped and dropped the plate to the ground. The ceramic clattered and cracked apart against the floor. Soiled food spewed about. The chatter stopped.
Before the siephall could investigate the strange event, Thaeolai was already past him, nearing the table. The cook heard the commotion and peered out at the mess, as the hungry, sheep-eyed crowd parted to implicate the offender.
“You there! You’re wasting food??” the cook growled. “Alright, then! Hope you enjoyed that plate! No seconds for you!”
The siephall stammered and pleaded his defense. The cook was having none of it – music to Thaeolai’s ears. The girl smirked to herself as she sat down. She set her full plate on the table, then slid it across to Khoulane.
“You can have mine,” she insisted. “I never eat much.”
Khoulane eyed the plate, then Thaeolai – as if studying her intent – and then he offered another proposition: “We’ll share.”
Thaeolai smiled softly and broke the bread in two just as Axyphylei sat down, bringing his own plate with him.
“That was a clever trick you pulled,” Axyphylei remarked to the girl. “Being able to command kea like that so easily… and so discreetly… I can’t lie, I’m impressed.”
For a moment, Thaeolai was silent – surprised that Axyphylei had seen her cast the spell. Her smile cracked, and she blinked her surprise away.
“It was a text I just learned,” Thaeolai reasoned, dropping her eyes. “A very simple one.”
“Still, when I was learning keawalaatu… I would’ve never been able to pull off something like that so smooth-like.”
“Did you take lessons?” Thaeolai asked, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.
“When I was a squip,” Axyphylei replied, lips tugging askew at bittersweet memories. “But… I was bad at it. It takes patience and mental control. I didn’t have either in great enough quantities.”
Thaeolai nodded in understanding. She remembered quite well the process of building that mental discipline. The lessons were harsh, and her teacher’s words unforgiving. Discipline became a means of survival. Her mother had only accepted the best for her daughter after she’d discovered her gift with controlling the kea currents. She remarked that Thaeolai would bring fame to the family as a royal court Kci Kyrat, bestowing everlasting vitality to the Kcirun and his scions.
That dream – her mother’s dream for her – died much earlier than expected. But not as early as other things.
Her mother’s condemning voice hissed in her ears. An echo – the sharp sting of cobblestone – flashed across her palms. She clenched her eyes, then cleared her throat and changed the subject, seeking Axyphylei for respite.
“What did you end up doing instead?” she inquired.
“I took up sailing and fishing with my father, in a coastal town called Tresis,” Axyphylei answered. “‘Bout halfway between Cephragon and Fyre. Learned how to navigate a different kind of current, I guess. I would’ve maybe joined the khilii and stayed on the seas, climbed the ranks there, but… my Kingdom needed me more here.”
Thaeolai had heard something close to that final phrase before – from Ucankacei. But a different emotion shrouded Axyphylei’s words. Not pride or duty. Remorse, perhaps – for a path now lost to events beyond his control. A path stolen.
“I do miss the water,” Axyphylei added absent-mindedly.
“I’ve only been on a ship once,” Khoulane uttered, breaking the strained silence. “Never again. Can’t stand the rock of the water. Made me wanna wretch. Especially with how crowded it was. When I head back to Mathingar, I’ll travel by land, vagabonds be damned. I like the feel of solid grounds beneath my feet. Grounds isn’t meant to move.”
Both Thaeolai and Axyphylei looked at Khoulane, then their eyes met – expressions identical. Thaeolai swallowed a lump in her throat. Only once had she heard someone speak of leaving Ardys with so much certainty. That person had known how unlikely it was, and he succeeded only through persistence and rage. In her short time knowing Khoulane, she could never imagine the boy carrying an ounce of the latter.
Her mind danced now, as she tried to piece together Khoulane’s past from the scraps she had. He hailed from Mathingar, but how had he ended up in Ardys? How young had he been? Where was his family? Where had he been toiling until the khilung called him to war? Did he… did he understand?
Thaeolai breathed, begging caution with her words.
“Khoulane–”
“This is the best I’ve eaten since leaving home! Here, Khoulane – you’ve got to try this piece of bread. It’s got so much honey on it, I might die if I try to take on the sweetness by myself.”
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Axyphylei’s half-baked, over-eager interruption startled Thaeolai. Even Khoulane was caught off-guard, and saw the distraction as deliberate. But after a short pause, Khoulane took Axyphylei’s offering nonetheless. After a testing bite, he gobbled up the bread, remarking about the flavor in a sugar-induced rush. Thaeolai gave Axyphylei a quizzical look, but she was only met with a firm brow and warning eyes.
Thaeolai bit her lip, as the others went back to their meals. Slowly, she opened her mouth to speak again – her mind scavenging for other, safer topics – when a noise at the far end of the great hall drew all their attention away.
A voice sought the heed of the gathered khilung, and as the siephalls and healers flocked their eyes, they gazed upon a caravan of cloaked Opelites nearing the center of the hall – led by the siekangh Sulemei. The siekangh halted the leaders not far from Thaeolai’s table, and perhaps four-dozen robed arrivals clustered in behind them. Thaeolai recognized the armored robes of the front two figures: Kci Talon, bearing the same adornments she’d seen in the courtyard in Cephragon on that fateful night.
At the siekangh’s command, no noise breached the great hall. Once certain he had the group’s attention, he stepped aside, and the two eminent whyzards stepped up in his place. As they lowered their hoods, Thaeolai observed.
The taller and older one had a long face affixed with chiseled lines that spoke of integrity. His flowing blonde hair was a shade whiter. His sharp green eyes matched her own, but his sly, attenuated smile communicated a different quality – an ignorant but weaponized wisdom. On his shoulder, he wore a pauldron fashioned from a horned elinji skull. His most gripping detail, however, was his right hand. As Thaeolai’s eyes fell upon it, he saw that it was metal, not skin or flesh – and yet its many pieces seemed to pivot and pulse with his very breaths, as freely as if it were real.
The second Kci Talon was more nondescript – more befitting the noble image of a battle whyzard. His blonde hair was cropped. His face was rough and square, his nose strong and low-lying, and his expression stoic – or perhaps blank. His hands folded behind his back in a traditional soldier’s pose. A decorated scabbard secured at his hip hid a longsword; only its hilt teased its brilliance.
“Stand and bow, and welcome Munei and Gheilei – esteemed Kci Talon, faithful emissaries of Kcirun Cirei, the 125th King of Ardys, chosen of Opela, vessel of the divine Blood – to our grand fortress! As well as the keatuuchan under their care! May they guide the khilung to victory, and purge the darkness from Opela’s blessed land!”
There was a flurry of shuffling feet as the uncoordinated, untrained forces all stood at once, servants of the Kingdom bowing toward their superiors. Thaeolai glanced up as she bowed, and caught a glimpse of the older whyzard’s frown. The clumsy, asynchronous honor did not please him.
After the failed attempt at reverence, the soldiers and healers sat again, and the low mumblings of the morning meal continued. Axyphylei and Khoulane focused again on satiating their hunger, but Thaeolai followed the Kci Talon with her eyes – from the center of the room to the mouth of the eastern hallway. She peered above the crowds and spotted Ucankacei waiting with the other officials.
Before she could read his expression, the withering old man let the Kci Talon pass and trailed them down the corridor, disappearing behind the Khi Thung’s many walls.
~:{~}:~
“I will entreat you all to this revelation: You are hereby relieved of your duties.”
The introduction caught Ucankacei by surprise. As he glanced at the siekanghs Sulemei and Jakthei – across the cluttered, musty office – he saw bitter expectation on their faces. They had dealt with this level of hierarchy before. He had not.
The one called Munei paced about the open sheep-wool carpet, judging each wooden surface and drawer handle and overly-detailed placard with the utmost scrutiny, while the elinji skull atop his shoulder leered at the incompetence before him. The whyzard let the silence fester an inappropriately long time after his first words – letting the air saturate with despondency. Then he rolled his feet to a halt at the room’s center, took in a breath, and smirked out his aloofness.
“Your duties will henceforth flow from my lips, and nowhere else,” Munei continued, in his expressive yet undeviating baritone voice. “Any complaints you may have hold no purchase here, for in your foundering, you have forfeited higher station. If you seek reassignment, inform me now, so we can prosecute your inaptitude accordingly.”
Those once in command, but no longer, remained silent. If there were reservations, Ucankacei did not hear them – not even a preparatory inhale. He swiftly lost any courage to voice his own.
At the stiffly obedient silence, the Kci Talon leader lessened his harsh expression just a touch. He crossed his metal hand over the other, standing proud. Then he began to pace again.
“Let us all remember as well…” he continued. “… that we all defend the Kingdom of Ardys – the great cornucopia, the land of abundance, bestowed to us by the beauty and generosity of Opela – as one. The absence of dissension conveys to me that I can place my trust in your fealty. My service – the Kcirun’s service, in truth – will require attentiveness… efficiency… resolve… alacrity…”
He stopped in front of Ucankacei – only for a moment, but enough to firmly judge his decrepitude with a wrinkle of his nose – then carried on his commanding slow pace. Ucankacei’s posture sank.
“I am sure you will be up to the task,” Munei affirmed. “If you prove worthy of the responsibility I grant you, great bounties may come of this opportunity. If you prove false, no matter. We can remedy without delay.”
Munei found his way to the center of the room again. His rough boots dug into the fleeced floor. And for perhaps the first time, his expression proved truly serious. He brought his right hand up and clenched a fist. Ucankacei watched the many metallic pieces as they swirled and swam around the five-fingered form.
“I will not err in the same manner as those who preceded my command,” Munei declared. “We indeed face a grave threat. A powerful threat. A threat that has, for the first time in thousands of years, put our great Kingdom’s very existence at risk. We have paid the price for withholding our respect out of hubris. Now… we afford them the entirety of that respect. We unleash. And we send these dastardly cow-fuckers back to the desolate, dingy hole from whence they came.”
Munei’s face twitched with anger. His elinji skull pauldron stood idle as a premonition. Ucankacei prayed that the end of the war would be near. The hate that seethed before him sullied his fragile hope. The battles he’d seen extinguished it altogether.
“Siekangh Jakthei informed me of your previous directives, reorganizing the remaining forces,” Munei concluded. “Continue with this reorganization, siekarums. Tally your siephalls and keep them ready. I will fortify the Khi Thung’s defense networks with the newly-arrived keatuuchan. And then… we will devise a plan to ward off the impending siege and drive the enemy back.”
Now it seemed that Munei finally waited for a response. But the officials had long been spooked away from speaking. Munei frowned again. His lips opened in a sneer.
“What do you say?”
“Yes, maesas,” the siekanghs and siekarums croaked; Ucankacei mouthed a silent reply.
Wholly unsatisfied, Munei turned to depart. The silent Gheilei joined him.
“Malvae, you imbeciles,” the elder grumbled with disgust. “Do not linger. We’ve work to do.”