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Elements of Chaos [Dark Fantasy - Sword&Sorcery]
Chapter 3: Wujun - It's For Your Safety

Chapter 3: Wujun - It's For Your Safety

LATE NOVEMBER 844 AQE

Wujun was dying of boredom. He heaved a long, drawn-out sigh and slouched down in his seat, idly bouncing his knee. This was the longest, dullest carriage ride he’d endured in his entire life. They had started out three days ago and he wasn’t sure how he’d survived this long!

“Please, Master Wujun,” his stuffy, wisp of a tutor drawled. “Such wiggling is unbecoming a young man of your stature.”

It was a mild rebuke. This was Goratsu’s way, to be vague and subtle. It was a horrible habit for a teacher, Wujun thought, not that anyone would have asked his opinion. Nobody asked his opinion on anything. They treated him with the utmost respect, they made sure he was cared for, but otherwise he was ignored.

He stilled his knee. “Well, for some reason you won’t let me draw back the curtain so I can see outside…” he grumbled.

“Grousing,” he said in that same dead tone, “is likewise unbecoming. If you’re so restless, young Master, you could dedicate the time to studying.”

Reading in a stuffy carriage was the last thing Wujun wanted to be doing. Goratsu and even Wujun’s constant shadow, Soki, seemed content to sit in silence, but for him it felt like torture. “I don’t understand why we had to leave the capital at all,” he grumbled under his breath.

The old man made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat. “Must we have this conversation again, young Master? I assure you the outcome will remain the same.”

Wujun wanted to shout that they would have the conversation as many times as he wanted, but such outbursts would get him nowhere. Especially with Goratsu. He glanced over at Soki, but the young bodyguard did not meet his gaze. She did not question orders. To her, duty was as clear as a cloudless, sunny day in summer. To Wujun, however, it was less about duty and more about the rock his handlers insisted he live under.

They have left me in the dark since I was a child, but I’m not a little boy anymore…

Even when they saw fit to share information with Wujun, they rarely gave him a complete picture. As a small child, he often asked about his parents, wondering why other children had mothers and fathers, but he didn’t. Finally, his nursemaid had relented and broken the news that his parents were long dead. His mother died giving birth to him and his father only a few weeks later, wracked with grief, had taken his own life.

“Not to worry,” she had told him, “They left you a considerable estate and their close allies will always watch over you.”

Wujun had been five years old then. He still remembered it as though it had happened yesterday. That nursemaid had been dismissed shortly after. Apparently, telling him even that much had been forbidden. Wujun wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or not. Had she told him out of kindness or simply to hurt him so that he would stop badgering her?

To this day, he still didn’t know who his father’s allies were or why they looked after him. He had been barely older than ten when Soki came to live with him. She was only a year older and had always been very somber and flat. He couldn’t recall having ever seen her smile, though he tried every chance he got to unlock her sense of humor. Surely it existed, buried deep within the small-framed young woman?

“Maybe,” she broke the thick silence with her soft voice, “he’d complain less if you let him part the curtain.” It was not a question.

Goratsu glared across the small space at Soki. She stared blankly back at him with her dark, hard eyes. It wasn’t often that she spoke up for Wujun but when she did, it had an impact. At least with Goratsu. It always made him wonder who was ultimately in charge here.

“Very well…” The bony, old tutor sniffed dismissively and returned his gaze to the thick tome resting on his narrow lap. “But only a little, young Master.”

A wide grin spread across Wujun’s youthful, round face and he hastily bowed his head in gratitude. “Yes, sir!” he chirped gleefully, already reaching for the silken fabric to draw it back enough that he could just make out the passing scenery outside the carriage.

Time did not crawl anymore now that he could better occupy himself. He would have to thank Soki later, when Goratsu wouldn’t be around to chastise him for being overly familiar with his servants. Wujun had always thought of her as a friend, though he knew her official station was beneath his.

Such thoughts drifted away the longer he stared out the window. He had studied his share of maps and from an academic point of view knew the bounds of Sunaizo Province like the back of his hand. Yet he was surprised to see trees and sparse woodlands. They were much further north than he originally thought. The capital had been built on flatland prairies near a large lake that was fed from a mountain river. From what he could see, they were entering foothills.

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But why? Why did we leave?

There was no point in opening his mouth to ask either of his companions. Soki wouldn’t respond at all and Goratsu would only huff the barest remark. Internally, Wujun heaved another deep sigh. They called him “Master” and yet they were the only ones making decisions in his life. He couldn’t help but feel like the practice was all wrong and yet it had always been this way.

Will I ever have control of my destiny?

These thoughts did not abate as they traveled on. It wasn’t until late in the afternoon, the sun already sinking below the meager tree line, that Wujun was distracted by something else. Slowly, the scattering of conifers turned into the occasional house or barn. Then, eventually, he saw the signs of a country town.

He nearly jumped out of his seat with excitement but controlled the impulse. He did, however, lean forward so that his face was pressed close to the curtain. Soki’s hand tugged him back and he sighed a little at the unspoken restriction. She had given him an inch; best to be grateful instead of trying to turn it into a mile.

Given his limited vantage, he could see the town was of a moderate size. Not a major hub of activity, but still the houses were stacked together and what businesses he glimpsed appeared in good repair, suggesting that they were wealthy enough to maintain their storefronts.

“Where are we?” The question slipped from his mouth before he could stop himself.

Goratsu sniffed, making Wujun wait as he finished the page he was reading. Even then, “Tiguri,” was his only reply.

That was enough, though. Wujun dug back in his memory at the map of the province and frowned to himself. They were more northwest than he’d originally guessed, but it still explained the foothills. He leaned back, his eyes on the buildings and streets rolling by, and allowed his mind to wander.

Why are we so far north? Why did we leave the capital? There’s something they’re not telling me. Why? Do they think I can’t handle the truth? They trained me to remain calm under pressure, to think even in a crisis. So why keep things from me? It makes no sense!

These thoughts carried him through the town and then past the garish red wooden gates to the estate that was his new home. The house stood on top of a grassy hill with an aged oak tree casting shade over the east side of the structure. Had it not been late autumn and the leaves already fallen, leaving the trees bare and the ground covered in dull, brown foliage, the scene would have been breathtaking.

Arriving at the cottage was not as exciting as it should have been. Wujun was too sullen to enjoy the view of nature and architecture. It was clear this place was meant as a luxurious summer retreat for some snobby noble and he wondered who he owed a favor to. Or did he own this exquisitely splendid place? Had they sold his estate in the capital?

He couldn’t help but frown, even as he wandered by the stables where the horses would be kept. Normally, he enjoyed spending time in the barn, but today he was content to wallow in his sour mood.

Behind him, as faithful as an old hound, Soki trailed protectively. She was the only reason he was permitted to explore the grounds while the servants unloaded his belongings and prepared the evening meal. Without her, he would be stuck in the house, gazing at the grounds through a windowpane.

Had it always been this way? Had he always been so sheltered? So stifled?

He called on his deepest memories, wanting more than anything to tug even one to the surface of him as a carefree child. He couldn’t remember ever running through the trees, getting covered in mud, or having a devoted parent to wipe his tears away when he hurt himself. His only memories were of pointless daydreams. Even now, at nineteen, he wasted his time wishing he was free to decide his fate.

“You don’t like it here.” Soki’s toneless voice dragged him from the depths of his childish brooding. She did not phrase it as a question, but as an observation.

He let out a sigh and shook his head. “The view is nice, the house is lovely… I just don’t understand why we’re here and why nobody will ever give me any straight answers.” He stopped at the edge of the grounds, where an intricate wall stood barring his path and his vision of the outside world.

“It’s for your safety—” Soki barely got the words out of her mouth before he cut her off.

“If I hear someone say that to me one more time, so help me, Soki, I’m going to come unhinged,” he snapped, his tone far more gruff than it usually was. Even without looking at her, he could hear her mouth snap shut, her teeth clicking together.

She did not turn away and yet he knew he’d ruined the chance to speak with her further. Soki did not tolerate such outbursts from anyone, not even him.

“I’m sorry…” he tried, despite the futility of his efforts. “I’m just tired…” It wasn’t entirely a lie; the trip and his frustration had worn him out. Despite the measure of truth, he couldn’t help feeling that the words were a hollow excuse.

Why must I apologize to her? I wouldn’t be irritated if they would treat me like an adult and tell me the truth!

His mood darkened even more. Soki was the closest thing he had to a friend and yet, moments like this, reminded him how utterly alone he really was. His mind drifted and a few seconds later he caught himself wondering what it would be like to have a proper friend. Like parents, he had never experienced friendship either. On a gloomy day like this, it made his heart heavier.

Without a word, Soki signaled that his chance to explore had expired. She pivoted and started toward the house, not looking back, knowing he would follow the silent command.

Perhaps someday I won’t.

The notion flitted through his mind as he fell into step, obeying as easily as a trained dog. What would happen if he disobeyed? What would they do if he tried to take control? For the first time in his life, Wujun began plotting rebellion.