The Third Ambassador’s Son

If the blind can envision the world, surely I can overcome the weakness of being human.

* * * * * * * *

When the birds started chirping and the soft sounds of life returned with the morning, Tylin re-collected his focus and opened his eyes to the first day of the new cycle. The birth day of Aideyll, now in year 3637.

Austyr, I thank you for the inner calm. Anya, for your love.

He stood up from the floors of his room and reflected on his life. He had a tendency to do that after Mother’s Morning in recent years. Maybe it’s not something one should do immediately following three days and nights of meditation, but…

Ayren, thank you for the balance of life. Adrion, for life.

He could hear his family already in their courtyard down the hall.

Aiana, I pray for my future.

And, from a voice inside him, he heard their reply. We are with you for all of your now and your time to come.

He took a long, slow breath. First, came the ceremony drawing incense for all the ancestors that came before him. Tylin slid his door open, wood sliding against wood in its frame, and gathered with the rest of his immediate family to the corner of the home dedicated to the traditions that guided them through the seasons.

His immediate family was abnormally small: him, his mother Nanami, and his father Maxian. Oh, and because his Uncle Giles devoted his life to the Kyon Boarding School and hadn’t married yet, he lived under the same roof, as well. Most families in their Province of Mist and Mayhem, commonly referred to as simply “The Mist,” had rather extended family trees.

Most. There were nine families in this particular province that preferred smaller families to keep alliances and the power placement easy. None of the current nine ambassadors of the Mist’s Court had more than three children—six of them only had one. Tylin Kyon belonged to one of six said families.

Scrolls hung along both sides of the long corridor, black and grey painted portraits on cream-tinted weaves of every Kyon ambassador that came before him, in reverse chronological order. The province, itself, was one of the first of eight original provinces to sign the Treaty of Reprieve 3,637 years ago and join together at the beginning of Aideyll, but the Court had not been formed until over a millennium later, when Aideyll had over thirty provinces, and those in the Mist wished to extend good relations to all eight corners of Aideyll’s earth. And so, with over 2,500 years of ambassadorship, Tylin had to walk past nearly a hundred ancestors before he was able to get to the ceremonial hall of his home.

Sunlight eased through every long, thin window between each painting, making all the ones facing the east much brighter than the ones facing the west. At the end of the hall, where Kyon’s first ambassador hung happily, was the entrance.

Where everything began.

Tylin stepped inside, greeting both of his parents with a soft nod. The inside was much darker than the hallway from the lack of sunlight seeping through a single window on the northwest corner.

“And another year comes,” Nanami said, first. She kept her eyes on the three scrolls that hung before them. “I trust your mind was at ease through Mother’s Morning?”

“Yeah,” Tylin said with a soft shrug. He didn’t meet his mother’s brown eyes with his own orange-brown ones.

Beside both of them, his father said nothing. He stood next to Nanami, eyes also kept on the three scrolls that hung before them, all three of them waiting for Giles. After a bout of silence, the sound of soft footsteps could be heard, and Nanami decided to speak again until everyone would be present.

“I’ve packed all that you will need for your journey.”

Tylin smiled at her. “You didn’t need to do that, ma.”

“I would have preferred a thanks, instead,” she answered, not meeting his eyes.

“… thank you,” Tylin said. His words came out as some form of awkward mumbling. His eyes shifted around the hall as he let out a soft, silent sigh. He didn’t even want to look at his father. He already knew his father would’ve either not approved or been indifferent altogether.

“A new morning,” Giles said, walking up to join them. “I hope I didn’t make you wait long.”

“No,” Maxian answered, shaking his head. “We were all early. It is good.” He reached to the marble counter before them and picked up four incense, one for each of them. “It gives us more time to prepare with whatever may come with this new year.” With a swift slide of a match, he lit the tips together, waited for the tip to catch black before turning grey, and blew all the fires out before handing one to each of them.

“Yes, yes,” Giles nodded. He took one of the incense, with Tylin watching the entire exchange before him, having stood between both of them. “With three days of peace and time to return to myself, I do believe I may almost be ready for a full year with our students, once again. With Nanami’s help, of course.”

“Of course.”

Well, that didn’t sound enthusiastic, Tylin thought to himself. He didn’t dare say that aloud, so he just glanced sideways to check on his mother, instead.

“Let us pray,” Maxian announced with a nod. All three returned his nod before bringing their eyes up to the three scrolls before them, each with a painting of one of three Ashenborn: Aiana, the Seeker; Anya, the Bearer; and Auna, the Deliverer.

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Tylin kept his eyes on Anya’s painting. The one who created the first human. The one who created all humans, talentless humans, and loved them all, regardless.

Is it bad that I study at Your Academy and have never gone to Your hall to pray in person?

No.

“Your Grace, thank you for the last three days. May you continue to love our family who have passed on to your other realms.” Maxian bowed. The rest of the family repeated the same prayers in their head and bowed.

Thank you for the last three days. May you continue to love our family, Anya.

Always.

“A full year of blessings, how greedy we must be when we ask for a full year more, but we do.” Maxian bowed again. And again, the rest of the family repeated and followed.

Perhaps ignore our greed? Tylin mentally slapped himself and tried again. A full year of blessings. One more, please.

I watch over all of Aideyll and love your family dearly, Tylin Kyon.

“A lifetime of love and protection, may we never lose sight that we need you, and that all in this world is within your hope for us all.” Another bow.

May I never lose sight that I need you.

Tylin heard no answer to this one, but felt a tug in his heart.

“It is only in Aideyll, where no child is left without a mother.” One more bow. Then, they simultaneously raised their incense into the air and prayed a personal prayer. Tylin took in a slow, controlled breath.

Anya, if there is something else I am meant to do—or anything I am able to do, please give me insight this year, so that I may do that instead. You know it’s not that I don’t like Szak, and it’s not that I don’t like our students, either. But is there the possibility of something other than taking my uncle’s place to lead our boarding school, of taking my father’s place as the Third Ambassador when the time comes? Next year? It all feels much too quick—I haven’t a fraction of the skills. Am I meant for something different?

One by one, they stuck their incense into the stone pot of ashes upon the counter and stepped out. Steam rose and disappeared beneath Anya’s painted feet.

I’m not like Commander Szakarilis at all, Anya. You see all. You must see that. You’ve made my heart as such. You must have wanted something different. Right?

Tylin stood up and placed his incense into the pot. The last of four. From the corner of his eyes, he saw his mother standing beside him long after her own prayer had finished.

All is in my perfect timing.

“Next year, you will be the one to represent and lead our family.” Nanami said, interrupting Anya’s answer in Tylin’s head. She turned to her son. “Starting with this very prayer.”

“Yeah.” Tylin nodded. He wasn’t sure what else to say. Thanking his mother for an event he already knew was to come was not the way he wanted to go about it. He turned to step out the hall and back into the long corridor lined with ancestors. His mother walked beside him, her steps just as silent and as calm as his.

“How were your three days?” Tylin asked to get rid of the silence.

His mother smiled. “Peaceful, as it is supposed to be.”

Tylin just nodded.

After a bit more silence, where about twenty-four or so ancestors had passed their gaze upon the two of them, Nanami spoke again. “That is what Mother’s Morning is meant to be. Peace, to reset before the new year.” She glanced to him. “I can tell by the way you arrived this morning that there was less peace.”

“… yes.” He side glanced at his mother. It’s not just me, right? My ma makes it difficult to respond to her in conversation?

“You must be able to find peace, even in the most chaotic of times.” A pause. Four more ancestors pass. “This is not even the most chaotic of times.”

Tylin held all reaction back and just gave two nods.

When the two of them arrived at the Kyon Boarding School’s dining hall, Tylin ate as quick as he could. It was so quiet that every movement he made clinked and clanked down the long wooden tables and through the open space of the room. Few of the students had woken up this early, and to be absolutely honest, he wanted to avoid seeing most of them to avoid getting delayed in his travels back to Essensia. Dumplings were easy to gulp down, and after giving thanks to those in the kitchen and bidding his family good-bye, he left the main school grounds with everything his mother had packed for him.

At the edge of campus, where a cavernous exit in the mountainside opened to the rest of the province, stood a stone statue of a phoenix on one side, a stone statue of a dragon on the other.

“Master Ty.”

Tylin turned to the familiar voice. “You’re up early, Jodie.”

Jodie frowned at him with a soft glare. “When’re you coming back?”

Tylin knelt down to meet her. “I’ll be back before winter comes.”

Jodie frowned harder.

“The snow will fall before you know it, and I’ll be back before then.” Tylin stood up and adjusted the satchel filled with his mother’s love. “Practice everything I’ve taught you and more, alright? Listen to my uncle and beat all the classmates you can. Make a game out of it—a harmless, non-violent one,” he decided to add at the very end.

“Fine.” Jodie looked down onto the dirt between them.

“Tell your sister to keep her head up, too, alright?” Tylin offered a smile, but Jodie didn’t see it. “You take care of her for the both of us.”

“… Fine.” Jodie looked to the side.

Tylin nodded, but again, Jodie didn’t see. He turned around and continued into the cavernous opening to the other side of this mountain, but just before the bend where the opening behind him would have disappeared from view, he glanced back to look for Jodie one more time. She didn’t stand beside the stone statues anymore, but the leg of her grey robe could be found sitting on the ground, a bit further away, in the corner where he first talked to her two weeks ago.

Well, nothing I can do right now.

He continued on, mind more focused on another season in Essenia. Another season beside Elite Commander Szakarilis Drakon: one of the Drakonskar clan who had the innatier talent of withstanding temperature as high as a dragon’s fire.

Another season beside Iago Kylmis: one of the few left within his bloodline that passed down the emittier talent to absorb and cast pure force.

Another season beside Eulylia Desireen and Sephria Vizare, the inseparable siren and half-Vizare, half-Ironclad girl. One was a beautiful emittier with the talent to both cast powerful songs and identify the sound of every insect’s breath, every leaf’s twist in the wind, every inflection that came with every truth and lie. Another was an ironically blind Vizare that should have the innatier talent of all-seeing sight second to only the Ashenborn. Sephria, however, was also half-Ironclad, and was passed down the innatier talent of gathering and rearranging iron within her body.

Tylin looked down at his own human hands. Nothing I can do right now.

He was, after all, only a human.

On the other end of the tunnel, the mountainside gave view of the three closest villages within this valley. Light strips of fog hovered over these villages, like low clouds among the roofs below. Above, the sunrise spread soft shades of yellow that made the rocky mountainsides glitter like gold and the mist all around sparkle the way of pearls. At this altitude, the air was thin and crisp, the same as every breath Tylin took in, growing up.

The view was best when he reached the stairway to the bottom. He always paused and looked out to take in the view before starting his way down.

There were 1,413 steps to get to the bottom, where the village would also greet him and wish him safe travels back to his final year at the Academy before ascending as their Third Ambassador. He would have a gryphon-drawn carriage ready for him to walk and fly the entire way back to the Academy grounds.

Maybe I’ll actually visit the Hall of the Ashenborn this time.

He took his first step down the long flight.

1,412 steps to go.

He took three more steps.

Is there a point to actually visiting them, though? If Anya wanted me to do something, she’d just tell me, since she knows me so well.

Another anonymous tug in his heart.

He didn’t think of it any more the rest of the way back.