Ivendir barged into his chamber. As the door slid shut behind him, he leant against the wall in the hallway and sighed. The walls were panelled with hazelwood, and an arched doorframe surrounded the dark brown door.

Ivendir ran his fingers across the panel. He felt a little dimple. He pulled it, opening a secret compartment. A gun lied inside it. Ivendir nodded to himself.

He moved on and reached his bedroom. His quarters weren’t grand by the standards of a typical monarch but Ivendir preferred more modest rooms. Big, open spaces made him feel uneasy. Here, in his bedroom, he could keep an eye on everybody and everything.

A few paintings, a pair of antlers and a carved animal skull decorated the light brown walls. Ivendir approached the biggest painting in a sculptured wooden frame. It depicted two brown-haired Celestians in elegant tunics. The taller one held a fur on his shoulders and his hand rested on a sword. It was young Brymir on the first day of his reign. A ten-year-old Ivendir stood next to him. Back then he hadn't dyed his hair red and the flicker of vigour gleamed in his big, round eyes.

Ivendir tilted the painting a bit. Another locker with a plasma dagger was hidden behind it. Ivendir closed his eyes and exhaled.

Went better than I expected, he thought with relief.

Then he crouched next to his bed and looked under a mattress.

"Huh?" he muttered in a shaky voice. Fear squeezed his stomach. A rush of adrenaline ignited his veins. He jumped to his feet, clenching his fists.

Where is it!? he cried in his mind. He looked around the room. His heart pounded harder and harder with every second. He fell to his knees and stuck his head under the bed. He breathed a sigh of relief, noticing the gun lying on the floor.

Here...

Ivendir groaned, reaching his hand, and picked the gun up. The top part of the weapon was dark blue, and the grip shimmered with all shades of silver.

He stood upright. Brushing his hair aside, he propped his head, thinking, I need a better place for it...

A barely audible steps caught his attention. He tensed his ears. Somebody was approaching his chamber from a narrow emergency passage. His heart went wild again. The fright seemed to stab his stomach and lungs, taking his breath away.

He turned on his heel, pointing the gun towards the unexpected guest.

A bald, hefty Celestian in a long, brown coat casually entered the main hall. As he lifted his calm sight and saw the gun pointed at him, he halted and raised his hands.

"Your Highness, it's me," he said in a deep, throaty voice.

"Oh," mumbled Ivendir, drooping his arms. He turned his head. "You surprised me." As he passed by a wide window with a stone frame, the snake tattoo on his arm seemed to narrow its golden eyes.

Ivendir walked between a large, dark blue armchair and a coffee table, where he put the gun down. He approached a stone fireplace with a drink cupboard next to it. Undrawing its door, he reached for a blue bottle.

"Sorry, Your Highness, but you wanted me to follow you quietly," said Thelrim, taking a few steps ahead. As the rays of the setting sun illuminated his rectangular face, his sky-blue eyes appeared even smaller. He wore two sapphire earrings on each ear, giving him a respectable look but his hand tattoo of the blue-and-white bird with a long tail contrasted with his massive silhouette.

"That's fine, Thelrim." Ivendir waved his hand in passing and took a bottle of amber liquor. "Even if you're the only person I honestly trust, I have to stay cautious." A loud pop resounded as he pulled the cork out. "Just in case."

He poured the dense, glimmering liquid into a glass. At that moment the chilly feeling of looming threat returned to him.

"Brymir wasn't cautious enough. He didn't keep his eyes open," Ivendir whispered to himself but Thelrim heard his concern anyway. "And you see what happened to him."

Fright crept into his mind akin to a nasty tick crawling under the thick fur of an animal. A chilly shiver pinched his back, and his stomach slightly shrank. Ivendir put quite a lot of effort not to think about this tragedy again. Every new thought fueled another horrifying image, engulfing him in an endless cycle of nervousness. Despite this, he couldn't drown his mind in regret, dismay and mourning. The future of Helvetto depended on him.

He raised his head and spread his arms. "So you, as my personal guard, have one job."

Thelrim looked at Ivendir questioningly without fully understanding his intention. Even though he was a head taller than Ivendir, he nodded with humility, ready to hear the order.

Ivendir narrowed his eyes. He pointed at Thelrim. "Don't let me end up like him," he said in a quiet but adamant voice and sat down in the armchair.

"I get it," responded Thelrim.

Ivendir motionlessly gazed at the glass of liquor. His breath was steady but too deep for a relaxed person. Thelrim could only wonder what thoughts billowed in the king's mind.

Ivendir grabbed the glass. "I survived two assassination attempts," he said. Still gazing vacantly, he gulped down half of his glass. "Both because of you."

He clenched his fingers on the armrest at the very mention of these incidents. Everyone on Helvetto knew who was next to the throne after Brymir and not everyone liked it. The last attempt happened over ten years ago when Ivendir was thirty but it imprinted in his memory and was still visible in his instincts. Prudence, alertness and perceptivity became his primary traits already after the first attack. He was only fifteen then and he needed a sense of security more than everything else. He began to obsessively hide different weapons in every corner of his bedroom and he never let anyone lull him into a false sense of security.

"There will be more," he added, and his eyes narrowed with bitterness.

That was the first night since King Brymir's death when Erilaz had slept for more than a few hours. The dark circles under his eyes remained, but he managed to get up and pull himself together before midday. He put on a silver fur cape and tied his hair into a sloppy bun. After all, the title of a Vardir Commander still belonged to him, and neglecting his physical condition was terribly inappropriate. The complex supplements alone won't keep his muscles in good shape.

Slow march through the mountain track let him fully breath again. The chilly and fresh air softly pinched his nose, refreshing his fuzzy mind. The smell of grass and flowers soothed his racing thoughts. Instead of brooding about his adoptive father's death, he focused on the movements of his body. Every step he took brought him closer to the hilltop and every muscle flexed and relaxed time after time.

The lack of wind let him hear the chirping and chattering animals. Tiny, light brown rodents leapt from branch to branch and hung on their long tails, licking nectar from the flowers. A pair of avian reptiles flew around, picking up dry grass for its nest. This day was free from work so only a few freight spaceships with the essential goods crossed the clear sky.

Erilaz reached a meadow. A tiny cottage stood on the edge of it and a circle of smoky stones marked the place of a recent campfire. Hefri sat on the chair next to it. She covered her mouth with a tissue, and strands of hair stuck out of the two buns on her head. Andvari stood in front of her, discussing something. His ginger dreadlocks were tied up, and muddy smudges covered his trousers. They both wore training tunics, but they didn't use any weapons.

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They stopped talking and looked at Erilaz.

"Oh, you're finally up!" called Andvari, waving. "It's almost noon..."

Erilaz raised a corner of his mouth.

Andvari added, "Come here!" As Erilaz slowly approached him, he put his hands on his hips and asked firmly, "Didn't you neglect some skills during this week?"

Erilaz tilted his head. "...No?"

"Prove it." Andvari squeezed his fingers, cracking his joints.

Sighing helplessly, Erilaz answered, "I'm not in the mood."

Listening to them, Hefri raised her head and shouted, "Come on Erilaz, avenge me!" She wiped the blood from her upper lip and sniffed, but the sticky red liquid still oozed from her nostril.

Erilaz raised his eyebrows in a worried expression. "Hefri? What happened to you?"

"Eh, an accident," broke in Andvari and carelessly swung his hand, "during the training."

"Listen here, pastahead!" growled Hefri, pointing at him. "Next time you are going to have an accident!"

Andvari spread his arms. "But it was you who didn't dodge quick enough!"

Erilaz only stood next to them, following each of them with his eyes.

She sniffed again. "You were quicker than a laser shot!"

"That only proves I'm the best!"

"I had no chance to react..."

"So you admit that I won?"

Ignoring the blood smearing on her upper lip, Hefri put her fists on the table. "Never!"

Andvari stopped her, reaching his hand. "I'm not fighting you in that state."

"Coward..." mumbled Hefri, wiping her mouth.

Acting like an old professor, Andvari continued, "According to the royal codex, the training has to be stopped after the first drop of blood."

"I know..."

Andvari propped his chin and looked around. "Hm..." he muttered after a while. He approached Erilaz with a brisk step, smirking. "Actually, that was a good idea. Avenge her."

Erilaz sighed. His friends behaved as if the mourning was over. Their moods were way too good while Erilaz had just begun to get back on his feet. The wound still bled. On top of that, he slept through the night for the first time in days. Dull sough still echoed in his head, and his eyelids closed on their own.

"Can't you just..." he shrugged and spread his arms, "...I don't know, grow up? Calm down?"

Sniffing loudly like a vacuum cleaner, Hefri cleaned her mouth again. She gulped and sized Andvari up with her gleaming, ominous eyes. "Not until I punch his crooked face!" she shouted, pointing at Andvari.

"Fine..." groaned Erilaz, drooping his arms. He unbuttoned the fur cloak, adding, "I will fight you."

"Nice..." said Andvari, rubbing his hands and smiling wickedly.

Erilaz approached the table to put his cloak aside, but a growling sound from above made him recoil like a wild cat. It was Andvari. He swung his fist to punch Erilaz but his opponent ducked.

"Huh?" mumbled Erilaz but before he turned around, Andvari pounded him in his back.

Erilaz stumbled and landed on his knee. Andvari jumped towards him again with his fist ready to blow another strike. Erilaz made use of his low position and sprung up, punching Andvari in his stomach. Andvari hissed, losing the air from his lungs, and gripped Erilaz's hair with all his might. Despite the twinging in his torso, he tugged Erilaz, ruffling his already messy bun.

With his hair floating behind him, Erilaz tripped towards the table. Hefri recoiled, gritting her teeth. Her friend landed on the tabletop, muttering something under his breath. He dragged himself from the table and grabbed his stomach.

Andvari stopped, and concern flickered in his eyes. "Are you ok?" he asked.

In response, Erilaz leapt towards him, kicking him his underbelly. Andvari tumbled on the ground, squeezing the young blades of grass.

"Ouch..." he moaned with his eyelids tightened. He opened his eyes slightly and blinked, blinded by the midday sun. At one moment the sun disappeared behind Erilaz's back.

"Yes, I am," Erilaz replied.

Andvari rolled on his belly and lifted himself up.

"King Brymir never taught you fairness..." he grunted, rubbing his head.

"And he never taught you caution," said Erilaz.

Andvari growled, narrowing his eyes. He charged at Erilaz. They sprinted towards each other and began to scuffle. Andvari tried to punch Erilaz. Erilaz banged the fists of his opponent and tugged his sleeves. They locked their arms, struggling to push their rival down.

Gasping, Erilaz braced his feet against the ground, putting up resistance. His fraught muscles stung after a sudden effort but the surge of adrenaline softened the tension. All his misery left him, leaving free space for fervour and deep focus.

Andvari was always physically the strongest of all Vardir apprentices. He only messed with Erilaz, trying to loosen him up. "Erilaz, look," he said, barely relaxing his grip.

"What?"

"My victory."

At that moment Erilaz took a step back, stepping into a puddle of mud. His boots lost their traction, and he collapsed on the ground, splashing brown water around him. Andvari recoiled, avoiding the falling drops of mud.

He approached Erilaz with a sneer on his face. "See?" he asked, "I'm undefeated." He raised his fists in a triumphant manner and yelled, "Undefeated!"

Erilaz lifted his head. Because of the sleepless nights, he couldn't comprehend what happened for a few seconds. He blinked and rose to his knee. Sighing with effort, he stood on his feet. His light brown shirt was covered with darker stains and thick lumps of mud stuck to his boots. He sighed once again. His hair flopped on his drooping arms. He grunted under his breath and swept the wet hair strands away.

Twisting the corner of his mouth, he marched next to Andvari.

"That's what I'm talking about," he grunted. "A few seconds."

"Next time Hefri and you can fight me together," said Andvari, unzipping the training tunic. "Maybe," he added in a soft voice, "just maybe, you can defeat me."

Erilaz pointed at the ground, narrowing his eyes. "I would have defeated you if I noticed this mud earlier." His jaw began to tremble as the fighting fervour subsided. "The same as if I had noticed the rifleman faster..."

"No, not this discussion again," broke in Andvari, closing his eyes and raising his hands. The tee-shirt he wore was soaked with sweat under his armpits and a few veins bulged on his enormous muscles.

"You can't just blame yourself for everything all the time!" he added, clenching his fists.

"Here we go again," muttered Hefri, stretching out on the chair. Since the king's death, she was torn between letting Erilaz live through the mourning and going back to the old life. Her job required her to be tough and strong but now, during the peacetime, she could feel a little bit of sympathy. She lost her king but he lost his father.

A sound of steps on the grass caught her attention. She turned her head towards the hill.

A muscular Celestian in a blue shirt was approaching them. Wind tugged his loose trousers and shoulder length, sandy blond hair.

"Commander Erilaz!" he called, raising his hand.

Erilaz and Andvari broke off their discussion and looked at him.

He nodded, adding, "Commanders Andvari and Hefri." He trotted down the hill and stood face to face with Erilaz.

"Captain Ermdahr?" said Erilaz and nodded too.

"King Ivendir couldn't contact you. He needs you in the industrial district." With a slightly disbelieving smile, he swung his hand and declared, "You won't believe what's happening..."

"Captain Ermdahr," asked Erilaz, propping his chin in misgiving, "What's going on?" He opened his eyes wider, his turquoise irises shone with anxiety. "Moryans?"

The warrior's instincts stimulated his nerves. His muscles tensed. He got ready to throw himself into a whirl of battle again.

No," the Captain smiled, waving his hand carelessly, "just a riot."

Erilaz sighed. He thought he overreacted again. Crossing his arms, he asked, "He calls us for a common riot?"

"Only you for now."

"Is it really so serious that he needs a Vardir himself?" Erilaz raised his eyebrow.

Ermdahr spread his arms. "No, but that's his order."

"...Fine," said Erilaz, raising his hands and closing his eyes. "Weird but fine."

Ermdahr climbed up the hill and Erilaz followed him.

"Just don't kill each other, understood?" Erilaz pointed at Hefri and Andvari, and they responded with taunting smirks.

Erilaz didn't worry too much about this unusual order, he only wondered why this riot needs the presence of a Vardir Commander. Vardir warriors, especially their Commanders, were called only for the most dangerous situations and states of emergency when the good of Helvetto or the king were threatened. Erilaz stayed calm. If the risk was serious, he would know about this first. On the other hand, no sane person calls Vardir for a trifle.

They crossed a meadow and reached a small spaceship. It's pristine dark blue plating shone in the midday sun. Its wings were light grey, just like the surface of the nearby mountains. Ermdahr entered the ship first and took the pilot seat. Erilaz jumped after him and sat on a bench in the corridor. The engine of the vehicle whizzed and howled, releasing a giant puff of steam from the tiny hydrogen reactor. It soared completely vertically for a few meters and then flew away.

Hefri and Andvari followed the ship with their eyes until it disappeared behind clouds. She took her tunic off and left it on the table, blowing her nose at the crumpled, stained with blood tissue. Her well-fitting tee-shirt with wet spots emphasised her angular and hefty but athletic figure. She came from the northern regions of Helvetto, so she was naturally used to difficult living conditions, and years of training and taking supplements made her body even more muscular. That didn't stop her from wearing the most sophisticated clothes and jewellery for special occasions. Even so, she valued graceful but comfortable clothes on a daily basis.

"As Erilaz said, weird but fine," commented Andvari, still looking upwards.

The clouds have gained some volume since dawn. Instead of thin, nimble smudges, they resembled ruffled clumps of wet wool.

Andvari leant towards Hefri and covered his mouth, whispering in a conspiratorial tone, "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

Puzzled Hefri glanced at him.

"I have an impression that the king acts pretty... um... unusual," he continued.

Hefri stood deeply in thought for a moment, after which she responded, "Hm... If I were in his position..." She shrugged and nudged a little rock with her boot. "...I would be careful too."