The servants roamed the compound of House So'lan, in preparation for the journey to the South. Akeron's gamble had paid off, better than he had hoped for. His body ache had subsided, and the half-hour meditation session had improved his mind. He wore his dark blue, layered armor over worn robes. On his hip was the holster for his blaster, and on his back, a sheath for his blade — both weapons in possession of Febun. There was a shuffle behind him, one he had become accustomed to, So'lan
"This won't be an easy journey for you, I hope you are aware of that," said So'lan. "That part of Ulyrn Nezys isn't entirely keen on foreigners."
Akeron answered. "Good thing that I have someone to accompany me then."
"Yes, my son will be with you. I do have to warn you, he is still a boy."
"You do not seem worried."
"I don't need to be worried," So'lan scoffed. "Any harm that befalls him would end up in your death. In the coming days, he is your son. Treat him as such."
"Yes, I'll try."
Down below, the servants in the compound dispersed as the doors opened. Standing there was a man, tall with a burn scar across his left cheek and a distinct rope burn around his neck. He looked up to them and tilted his hat.
So'lan turned. "You'd need all the help you can get. His name is Gonje, he arrived here about ten years ago, I'd like to think I can trust him."
"What happened to him?"
"Life," So'lan smirked. "Happens to all of us. Some more than others, but all nonetheless. Come with me."
Akeron left with So'lan, through the stairs, and down in the compound. Gonje was taller than he had thought, and he spoke with a distinct accent.
"My lord, you requested my presence," said Gonje, staring Akeron down. "Why is the Orod here?"
So'lan said. "Passage to the south."
"Things have been tight lately, my lord. Bandits are on the road, running down ships and taking hostages."
"I am aware of the dangers. But the journey is possible still, is it not?"
"Not without expense."
"Leave money to me, all you need is to grant passage for my friend here, and my son. Can you do that?"
"Yes," Gonje glanced at Akeron once more. "As you wish, my lord."
"Good then," said So'lan, dismissing Gonje. He turned to Akeron. "Your weapons are under Febun's care, he will hand them over to you before you leave. I have matters to attend to."
The halls of House Oran were a sight to behold. The walls were adorned with intricate patterns and drawings of mythical creatures and men from an ancient world. There were about twenty sculpted busts of past lords of House Oran, arranged down the hall, with their titles etched onto each one. Akeron observed the faces, although different, they bore a similar resemblance to each other. Almost halfway through the hall, he stopped at a door to his left, labeled training room. The servants had directed him to look there for Febun.
Muffled sounds were coming from the room, and Akeron tapped before he opened. Standing in the middle of the room, was Zuri in his shorts, holding his blade. His form was average, but the movements were stiff and predictable. Evidently, he had had practice with a similar weapon, but not enough to render him useful in combat.
"I believe that belongs to me," said Akeron, looking around the room for signs of someone else. Empty. "Who taught you that?"
"My uncle," said Zuri, still wielding the blade. "Against my father's wishes, but I still practiced now and then. Only Febun knows about it."
On the wall were several blades, Akeron picked one with a good grip and weight. He moved to the middle of the room, facing Zuri in his stance. "Let me see it."
Zuri scoffed. "I am not as stupid as you might think."
"Odd, I never thought that of you. I think you're rash, emotional, and quite annoying. And with good training, you might just be a formidable opponent. You still want to learn my magic, do you not?"
Zuri took a moment, then swung. The Yende blade is a thin one, designed to be held by a trained Orod with access to tincture magic. Akeron knew the blade more than he knew himself. He blocked and countered, which Zuri was somehow able to parry. Akeron switched to the offense, breaking Zuri's guard, sending him to the ground.
"Know when to blink during a fight," said Akeron. "Helps more than you'd think."
Zuri got up, dusted himself off. "Is that a lesson?"
Akeron smirked, then lunged toward him. The sound from the colliding blade reverberated through the room. He created an opening, but Zuri did not go for it. Did he miss it deliberately?
Zuri asked. "Your magic, will you teach me?"
"You don't even know how to use a blade properly."
"You didn't need one to defeat the haga," said Zuri.
"And I nearly died," said Akeron. "Even then, I still required training."
"You can teach me."
Akeron attacked, but this time, aimed close to Zuri's hand. The force was sufficient enough to disarm him, leaving Akeron with two blades, both pointed at the boy. "Why do you want to learn so badly?"
"I just need to."
"I don't believe you," he lowered the blades, putting the Yende into the sheath. "You must have a reason to want to learn."
"What was your reason?"
"Service to the Pewan, and maintaining order," said Akeron. "More or less. But you need a reason, learning tincture is a great responsibility not many can wield."
Zuri sighed. "I feel incomplete. I try to do as I'm told, but there is a voice in my head that won't let me rest. I need something, something important. I need to matter."
"You are the heir to House Oran, does it matter more than that?"
"A duty I did not choose."
"You can always leave."
"And face the world as a disappointment," Zuri laughed as he took a seat on the bench. "That is not an option for me."
"I don't believe tincture is an option for you either," said Akeron. "I have seen what this power has turned people into. The path is paved with fog, as my master would say."
The door opened, and Febun entered. He scanned the room, resting finally on the duo. "Master Zuri. Lord So'lan requires your presence."
Zuri, without hesitation, left the room but Febun did not follow, instead, he moved closer to Akeron and walked past him to the corner. A hidden compartment, he reached in and pulled out a blaster. A weapon, not sanctioned by the Orod but it had proven reliable against all kinds of enemies, especially space bandits.
Febun offered the weapon to him. "You will not always get what you want."
Akeron retorted. "I have freedom."
"We're both slaves, you just have a longer leash," said Febun as he left the room.
He did not want to believe the words. The Pewan had a certain level of freedom, but he could not help it. The existence of tincture in one's body was enough to command duty. With his weapons in place, he adjusted his clothes and left. The journey was just about to begin.