Lovu
“On this day, we honor Fam’e with an offering of all-sustaining love.”
The summer sun crested its peak as thousands crowded the marble streets of Lavote, huddling around a grand stage erected on its central boulevard. Some were locals, but more were the merchants and diplomats that constantly flowed through the world-famous harbor. Regardless of their origin, every eye sought out one person in particular.
“As the First Advocate Hikim once said, when the shepherd flourishes, so must he pass that prosperity onto his flock. And so too must...” An ancient man addressed the crowd, reciting scripture from memory. He was bent by age, draped in decadent mossy green robes, and wore his long white hair tied up in braids to accent the shaved strip of hair that wrapped around the crown of his head. Filling the space was a ring of intricate, knotwork tattoos that gave the illusion of wearing a circlet.
His cracked old voice carried on the wind with a strength and charisma that betrayed his feeble appearance. However, as he droned on and on about the virtues of Fam’e’s path, the onlookers’ attention wandered, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the younger man standing just behind him.
That man was Lovu Yelma, the third prince of Hangkiti. At 19, barely an age where he could be addressed as a man instead of a boy, he stood a full head above the old man. He beamed a gentle smile that commanded more weight in silence than the old man’s droning ever could. It was rare for common people to behold any member of the royal family, but he was by far the most elusive.
“Ah, forgive me,” the old man said with a chuckle after his third lengthy tangent came to an end. “Age may not have dulled my mind, but it has certainly made me less urgent. Let us proceed to the matter at hand. It is with great honor that I invite my protégé, Advocate Lovu Yelma, to provide the blessing for today’s donation.”
“Thank you High Advocate,” Lovu said, stepping forward as the old man yielded the stage to him. “And no apologies necessary. It is never a burden to be blessed with Fam’e’s wisdom, especially from someone as devoted as yourself.” An uneasy chuckle whimpered from the crowd.
“Devotees of both our humble nation and lands beyond, I welcome you into our community and invite you to partake in our bounty,” Lovu said, gesturing to the tents lining the street in front of the stage. Beneath each was a veritable feast. “This year has seen a record-breaking harvest that has blessed us all with full stomachs. Allow us to walk Fam’e’s path by showing grace to our fellow man and giving when we have plenty. In her name, we will ensure Hangkiti’s prosperity for generations to come!”
This is my favorite part, Lovu thought to himself as he watched each and every face light up. Because he was a prince, he rarely got to leave the confines of the Lords’ Residence. He preferred to bless feasts in times of need because they made that much more of a difference, but he looked forward to any opportunity to spread joy.
From there, he began his prayer. Long and winding as was typical for blessings this large, he lost himself in the words and felt himself being guided, as if by Fam’e herself.
As the final words left his lips, a roar of applause ripped through the crowd and people surged toward the tents, only to be interrupted by the High Advocate clearing his throat. All Lovu had expected to do was bless the feast, so not even he knew what was to come.
“Before we eat our fill, this feast serves a double purpose,” the old man said, stepping forward to take center stage again. Lovu attempted to return to his old position behind him, but the High Advocate firmly held his arm in place. “While our proud empire may be flourishing, the same cannot be said for myself. During my 47-year tenure as High Advocate, it has been my pleasure to serve our people, but I am growing tired. It is high time for new blood to take my place. So, let it be known that I, High Advocate Winghu Ngev, officially declare Lovu Yelma to be my successor. His appointment shall officially begin on the first day of next year.”
The crowd cheered again, but Lovu didn’t hear them. When it was inevitably time for a High Advocate to retire, they chose their most talented and devoted student to succeed them. Out of High Advocate Winghu’s dozens of student, Lovu was the youngest. While he had always hoped to take up the mantle, he never expected it to actually happen.
He dropped to his knee, partially out of respect but mostly to hide the weakness that suddenly washed over him. “I-I am honored High Advocate.”
“Come now,” the old man whispered to him beneath the roar of the crowd. “Stand tall and proud. Only then can you guide your people onto Fam’e’s path.”
Lovu did as he was told, standing to face the sea of people staring up at him. His role in the ceremony was over, but his heart was overflowing, and he felt the urge to share that joy. As the crowd quieted down, he steeled his nerves and stepped forward.
“In the seven centuries since our founding, Hangkiti has stood tall as a bastion of grace,” he said, projecting his voice to reach every crevice of the city. He spread his arms as though embracing every single person his voice reached. “Under Fam’e’s guidance, we smothered Phakfi’s tyranny with love and lifted our people up to the heights of enlightenment, but that was not the act of a single leader. I am only able to stand here today because of the devotion that everyone here has shown for our goddess and her siblings. From the bottom of my heart, I wish to thank you all and promise that I will continue that legacy, raising us to even greater heights!”
Another cheer tore through the crowd, but this one ended much sooner than the others as hunger returned their attention to the original purpose of the ceremony. He wanted to watch his flock indulge in Fam’e’s blessing for as long as possible, but a firm hand on his shoulder drew his time short. One of the guards wearing silver armor emblazoned with a flame wrapped in chains nodded toward the edge of the stage. It was the signal that it was time for him to depart.
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No matter how much he wanted to remain, it was unbecoming of a prince to overstay his welcome. With a sigh, he followed the guard off stage. From there, his private retinue quietly ushered him to his carriage. A small platoon was assigned to the task of escorting him, but most rode or walked alongside the carriage. Only one person joined him inside.
A young man about the same age as Lovu sat stoically across from the prince, lightly pulling back the curtains that covered the carriages windows and glaring out at the street. Although they were the same age, that was about the only thing they had in common.
Lovu wore his long, dusty-blonde hair up in intricate braids to show off the tattoos lining the shaved strip ringing his head. The man across from him had brown hair so dark it was nearly black, which he kept cropped short. Lovu’s smile and the cheerful glint in his eye could brighten up a cave miles beneath the earth, while the other man’s stern expression could dampen the sun on a warm summer day. And while Lovu wore the plain, billowing robes of an Advocate, the man across from him wore polished silver armor, much like the guards from before. That armor and the flame crest proudly displayed on its breast was the symbol of an Honor – one of Hangkiti’s elite warriors.
“So Akil, how does it feel to be the personal bodyguard to the next High Advocate?” Lovu asked after riding in silence for a painfully long time, cocking his head to the side playfully. The man remained silent as he watched the world outside.
Akil Vor was Lovu’s oldest and closest friend. The Vor family were close allies of the Yelmas. The two boys were born within months of each other – Akil was the older of the two and never let Lovu forget it – so their fathers decided early on that he would serve in the prince’s personal guard once they came of age.
And as time would tell, Akil was just as much of a prodigy for the blade as Lovu was for scripture. Around the time they were 7, he began training to become an Honor. Normally, someone who started that early could earn the title by 16, but he earned his by 14, making him one of the youngest Honors in Hangkiti’s history.
Lovu started training as an Advocate at the same time. Anyone could become an Advocate regardless of age simply by visiting one of her temples and swearing an oath to follow her path. The real mark of an Advocate’s devotion were their Wounds – the tattoos ringing their heads. An Advocate earned a new line in their Wounds by perform rituals dedicated to Fam’e, providing charity to those in need, and healing the sick.
By 13, Lovu had earned every Wound he could just through performing rituals. Those were all he was allowed to practice without leaving the Lords’ Residence, so he poured his heart and soul into learning them. After that, he petitioned his father to allow him to attend normal rituals and blessings in the city proper, where he'd be able to actually help people. After months of arguing his point, his father finally agreed, setting a date for Lovu to be allowed to leave the Residence after he turned 14.
Akil became an Honor and was appointed as Lovu’s bodyguard just in time to escort him on his first outing. He always insisted that the deadline had nothing to do with getting it done so quickly, but Lovu clearly remembered him disappearing for weeks at a time just to train in private. Since then, they had spent practically every day together.
“Come on Akil,” Lovu said, moving over to sit directly next to him. “Not even a single word of congratulations?”
“You know the rules,” Akil said plainly, never averting his eyes from the window. “Don’t distract me until we’re back in the Residence.”
Lovu’s smile twisted into a playful smirk as his hand snuck up Akil’s leg. He shot straight for the familiar gap in his armor where the thigh plate didn’t quite meet the bands of flexible metal that covered his waist. In an instant, he was stroking Akil’s thigh. Spending practically all of their time together had moved their relationship a couple of steps past just platonic friendship.
The armor covered enough that Lovu wasn’t able to feel anything stir, but the way his bodyguard shifted in his seat was more than enough proof that his distraction was working. However, despite his best efforts, Akil simply grabbed the hand and gingerly put it back in Lovu’s lap.
“Not. While. I’m. Working,” he said bluntly, emphasizing each word with a firm pat on Lovu’s hand, all without tearing his eyes from the window. Finally, Lovu’s grin turned into a pout.
“Because there’s so much danger here,” he said, throwing open the opposite curtain to reveal the bustling marketplace of Lavote’s central merchant district. “Lavote is the most prosperous city on the southern peninsula, the crown jewel of Fam’e’s worship, and the cradle of her High Advocate. The people here are good and kind.”
Akil reached over and calmly closed the curtain. “You are safer here than almost anywhere else in the world, but all it takes is one Scar getting a big head or a Kumam cultist wanting to take a shot at the next High Advocate to change that.”
“We’ve made dozens of these excursions and nothing like that has ever happened,” Lovu whined, slumping back in the seat and leaning into Akil’s shoulder. “I appreciate that your heart is in the right place trying to keep me safe, but you know what the First Advocate said: in Fam’e’s gaze does the brightest seed of every heart come to fruit and on her path, every adherent carries her in their soul. If her servant does open their heart to her faltered children, they will flower and be drawn to the path anew. If someone did wish me harm, it’s my duty as an Advocate to welcome them with a kind heart and guide them back onto her path. Not hide away.”
“Maybe, but we also have a duty to prevent conflict before it arises. The outbreak of violence is a failure on the part of the warden. Seek the seeds of conflict and plot your course around them so that their blades may never meet an innocent throat,” Akil said, smirking back at him. “You’re not the only one who read the scripture.”
“Perhaps you need to brush back up on your studies then,” Lovu said, his smile slowly returning, “because you seem to have forgotten that your excerpt comes from the writing of Voice Alma Mukrur, not Yol’s scripture. He originally said it in frustration over political disagreements in the Lord’s Council becoming too aggressive. It has nothing to do with real threats of violence.”
Akil went silent, staring broodingly out the window.
“What, you don’t have a retort?” Lovu said, poking Akil’s face.
“I concede,” he said with a sigh, finally looking into Lovu's eyes. “I should’ve known better than to pick a fight with you over scripture. Enjoy your victory and distract me as much as you want.”
Before Lovu could say another word, the carriage rolled to a halt.
“Oh, will you look at that,” Akil said, rising to his feet and offering Lovu a hand, “We’ve arrived. Looks like you’ll have to wait a bit longer to claim your prize.”
“Yet another pyrrhic victory,” Lovu said with an exaggerated sigh, the smile on his lips betraying him as he took Akil’s hand. Together, they stepped out of the carriage and walked down the meandering streets of the Lords’ Residence, linked arm in arm.