- - - > oxx Z•L xxo < - - -

The room hushed. Hirua's words hung in the air, heavy as a battle-axe. Zevas threw back his head and let out a "KHAHAHA-KHAHAHA!”, a sound big enough to fill the whole damn fort.

“You trying to pull my beard, lad?" He wiped his eyes, hoping the boy didn't notice the dampness there. "The Tempest of the East? That's who you're claiming as your father?”

"Indeed, Captain," the lad's voice held a quiet composure that surprised him. It was a dignity that seemed out of place for a simple villager. "He is my sire.”

"Anyone can make such a claim," he rumbled, leaning forward. The old stories, whispers of the king gone mad… those weren’t mere fables, were they? "It's widely known that King Tevis...killed his own son along with many of his subjects twelve years ago. Can you prove this outlandish claim of yours?”

Deynfif stepped forward. "Captain," he began cautiously, "if I may, it's as you say – anyone can make a claim. Why believe rumors over Hirua's word?”

"False Equivalence Fallacy!" Siebea's alto voice cut through the tension. Her finger shot out, a quick jab towards Deynfif that made the lad flinch.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest. The owlet was sharp, he'd give her that. Deynfif had walked right into that one.

Siebea continued on her call. "While it's true anyone can make a claim, that doesn't mean all claims are equally valid.” She adjusted the goggles on her neck. “We can't simply dismiss the historical record and widespread knowledge about the prince's death just because Hirua claims otherwise."

She tapped her goggles with a clink. "Hirua needs to provide evidence to support his extraordinary claim, especially given the context." A hush fell over the room, every man turning to look at the owlet.

Deynfif’s eyebrows shot up, but the lad recovered quick enough. Cleared his throat, hand fiddling with that scarf of his. “Captain,” he began again, "you mentioned it happened twelve years ago. That coincides with the time my elder brother brought Hirua to Eard.”

His eyes narrowed. “So, you’re saying any child Fifbrith brought there twelve years ago must be the lost prince? What’s next, every boy with brown skin will be claiming the throne? That’s absurd!” He shot a quick look at Siebea – couldn’t help himself, always enjoyed seeing how that sharp mind of hers worked. Already, he could see the wheels turning behind those turquoise eyes of hers. Back to Deynfif he turned.

The desk jumped as Siebea slammed her palm down. "Strawman, Captain!" The owlet’s usually bright tone had gone sharp as a hunting hawk's cry. "You're twisting Deynfif's words! He pointed out a specific fact – Hirua's arrival twelve years ago.” This time she slammed with her fist. “Instead of addressing that, you've replaced it with a weaker argument – that any child from that time must be the prince – and attacked that instead. That's not what he said, and it avoids dealing with the actual evidence.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. Leave it to the owlet to never back down from a good argument, even against him. "Easy there, lieutenant," He winked, enjoying the fire in her eyes. "Wouldn't want you breakin' me desk on top of callin' me out.”

His eyes met Deynfif’s. "We could not know for sure if it was really the prince of Taikas Fifbrith saved unless your brother was here…" A sigh rumbled deep in his chest as he added, "But Fifbrith is fuel for the Light now. May his soul burn bright.” He cleared his throat, the words catching a bit. Best to move on. "Can you lads offer any other proof?”

Deynfif started, “Father might know. We need to ask—” He stopped abruptly, Hirua’s hand on his shoulder.

Hirua stepped closer. “Thank you, Deynfif.” Then, with a deep breath, he reached into his pocket.

The owlet's hand flashed towards her dagger. Always on guard, that one.

"Captain," Hirua began. "This amulet, once worn by my father, bears the emblem of the Taikas Kingdom." The lad offered the amulet towards him.

He held the amulet, the metal was warm against his fingers. Familiar. "Taikas, aye," he rumbled, turning it over. The Empress had one just like it, he was sure of it. Now where had he…? Hirua's smile, quick and off-center, tugged at something in his memory. Like looking at Tevis himself, all those years ago. Even the lad’s skin… not a common shade. Just like…

The lad, Hirua, he told his tale – bits and pieces of that night, jumbled like a drunkard's song. Talk of energies clashing, soldiers screaming like stuck pigs… Hirua's voice got quieter, but he caught snippets: the lad’s father yelling, a bell chime, then nothing. Just darkness, the way Hirua told it.

"Yet but a few days past," Hirua continued, "I held the conviction that Kyura was no more. Alas, she too was present on that fateful day."

He looked at Hirua, the lad's words echoing the clang of opportunity and the dull thud of risk. This lad... Dantras Hirua Duzwaard, heir to the Miergart Empire. Could be the answer everyone's lookin' for... to end this bloody war. Claiming his birthright... people'd follow a him. Maybe even to peace. Maybe. But... that axe on the wall, it'd seen enough bloodshed for two lifetimes. He wasn't the man who'd reached for that axe so easily, not anymore. No more using folks like pawns on a board game. Not after…

His gaze met Siebea’s. The owlet. The fort around him seemed to melt away - for a heart-stopping moment, it was ash, smoke, and the screams of dying men that filled his senses. He sucked in a breath, grounding himself. Beside him, Siebea stood silent, a reassuring presence.

He steepled his fingers, gaze drawn to the portrait of his wife Sterika on the wall. Her smile... The corner of his mouth twitched – he could almost hear her laughter. Aye, those days were gone, traded for something far more precious.

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He leaned forward, the weight of the decision heavy on his chest. "If this is true, lad…" His voice, for once, lacked its usual booming certainty. "...what path do you walk now?"

Hirua straightened, that chin of his jutting out like he was facing down a whole battalion. "Captain," the lad said, voice firm, "as heir apparent, I understand the target I present. The Empress' motivations and actions remain shrouded in mystery. Meanwhile, I fear Kreginnia views me as but a mere pawn in their war."

The lad’s hand went to that amulet, fiddling with it. "My own mother…" His voice was barely a whisper, rough around the edges. "Has shown no interest in my fate. Surely, if that were not the case, she would have sought me out in these intervening years."

Hirua looked at him, pleading for understanding. "Eard is my sanctuary," the formality in his words dissolved. "There, I've found kinship with Pythair and his family and even Einntyr." For a moment, the lad looked like he might cry. Grief, plain as day. "Their eldest son, Fifbrith, died protecting me. A debt I can never repay."

The lad's eyes were burning. Serious fire in 'em. "Captain, this war's like a rancid pot of stew – it's gonna spoil everything good in Eard! There's no way I can just sit here and watch it all go rotten!" Hirua practically spat the words. "Taikas may be my birthplace, but Eard is where my heart lies. I'd bleed for this place.”

"KHAHAHA-KHAHAHA!" His cackling laugh pierced the room. "A noble oath, Hirua." A loud thud echoed as he slammed his hand on the table, rattling the teacup. "You've shown the heart of a lion, young one."

His smile vanished. "The lass, Kyura becomes your responsibility," he commanded, voice losing its jovial edge. "Remember, lad, being the Empress' son doesn't buy you any favors in this outfit. We're mercenaries—duty's our bread and butter." His hand landed on Hirua's shoulder. It wasn't a forceful gesture, but one heavy with years. "You'll earn your keep like everyone else under my roof. Understand, lad?"

Hirua met his gaze unflinchingly. "Aye, Captain! That suits my taste."

He nodded curtly. "Excellent. Now, the three of you, get out there and train. Remember, you've got a whole village counting on you lot.”

The door swung shut with a thud, leaving him alone in the quiet of his office. He stood by the window. Down below, his men were strengthening the fort’s defenses. A chuckle rumbled in his chest. Right decision? Who knew with these things? All he could do was his best by the lads, keep 'em out of trouble, point 'em towards a bit of peace.

"KHAHAHA!" The sound echoed, bouncing off the stone walls. Looks like Pythair's lads were his responsibility now, eh? Guide 'em to a better Craiddhol, that was the goal. Trusted the elder's judgment on the prince... mostly. Though a certain Pythair Lorghin owed him a fine Kreginnian ale for this little surprise. A barrel, at the very least.

- - - > xxx •H• xxx < - - -

The infirmary smelled of herbs and salves, like Pyhtair's special mix back in Eard. The same mix that always seemed to soothe the sting of a training cut. Hirua stepped inside, his gaze drawn to the corner where Kyura sat perched on the edge of the bed. She turned, head tilting with a soft chime, and a smile spread across her face.

The Light from the opening above fell right onto Kyura. Her eyes, catching the beam, seemed to sparkle like fleogols. The sight of her smile – it stopped him cold. It was like one of those warm, wanlights in the castle gardens, his mother beside him, both of them savoring the taste of unique foods that she cooked herself.

He sat beside Kyura, his stomach churning as his eyes fell on the red stain blooming across her bandages. He saw flashes of those vines, tasted the fear of their desperate fight to escape. The bed rail creaked as his grip tightened. Those cursed vines, the way they lashed and tore, brought the bitter tang of bile to his throat.

"It was you, Kyura." His voice cracked like dry tinder, each word tasting of ash and lingering fear. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to crush the image of Einntyr and Deynfif, swallowed by Imperial scum, seared behind his eyelids. "We wouldn't have made it out without you... I thought…" He shuddered, the words choking in his gullet.

Kyura smiled, the bell chiming like always, but something twisted in her eyes – like burnt sugar in a skillet.

"Thank you," he choked out, his throat raw. "Thank you. But Kyura, don't ever do that again. I..." He couldn't finish. The thought of her hurt, bloodied... it made his chest ache like he'd swallowed hot coals.

Kyura nodded, the movement slow and heavy, each chime of her bell like a stone dropped into still water. He closed his eyes tightly, hot tears stinging. Hand gripped the bedsheet, knuckles white. How could he have been so stupid?

"That blasted curse..." He reached out, his hand hovering over her bandaged arm, afraid to touch, aching to soothe. "I'm here now, Kyura. And I swear, on everything I hold dear, I won't let anything hurt you again."

Two soft pats landed on his head as her bell chimed with each touch. It eased something tight and aching inside him.

"Mother... did she care for you, back in Taikas?"

Her smile wavered for a moment, a fleeting bitterness around her lips before it was replaced by her usual warmth.

"Mother’s actions…" The words fell dry and hollow from his lips. His hand balled into fists. "She's become a stranger. It's like the warmth… it's gone, replaced by a coldness I cannot understand."

The bed railing groaned as his grip tightened. "I have to stop her, Kyura. I have to." The war. It sat on his tongue, a bitter aftertaste of burnt bread.

"When it's over..." He looked at her, a flicker of his usual self threatening to break through the worry. "We'll travel all of Craiddhol, the four of us! We'll find a way to cure that terrible curse.”

Kyura grinned, the chime of her bell like a sprinkle of sugar on top. Anticipation? Hope? He couldn't quite place the flavor of it, but it was good to see that light in her eyes again.

Her hand was cool in his, the touch like a splash of water against his burning turmoil. "It's a promise!" The words burst out of him, needing to be said, needing to be true. Kyura's answering chime rang out, clear and bright, chasing away the shadows that had gathered in the room.

He gently unclasped his Eardian Bracelet. "For you, Kyura. A gift made by Deynfif’s mother”

Kyura took the bracelet, her eyes wide like she'd just been handed a bowl of sweets. Even the chime of her bell sounded happy, like a quiet song.

"This is like Einntyr's," he explained, his voice soft. "It kept him safe, barely a scratch. This will be a shield for you too, Kyura.”

She grabbed him, hugging him tight. Her bell sang out, a happy clang against his chest. Kyura slipped the bracelet on, twisting her wrist back and forth. Her eyes began to glisten.

He watched her, a bittersweet ache in his heart. The way she cradled the bracelet, her eyes bright… Was this what joy tasted like, pure and unburdened? Back in Taikas… had Mother ever given her anything? A knot of anger tightened in his throat. They hadn't even taught her to read, to write. He wouldn't stand for it. For Kyura, for his loved ones, he'd make things right.

“Kyura, we have to see Eard someday. The shore there… like a rainbow of spices spilled on the sand. And the air! Not like the smoke here, or the heavy flowers of Taikas. It's…” He struggled for the right words. “Like a breath of fresh bread, right out of the furn.”

The buttercup yellow bell chimed, a single, clear note.