Private Training
Julian, the son of Lord Joel, was a stern man; long before the sun illuminated the eastern sky, the fire within his eyes burned brightly. Julian considered this his morning ritual. First, he buckled his fighting sword just in case he needed it, then he tied several rocks to his arms and legs to make his morning exercise more grueling.
“You want to be a warrior, son?” his father’s voice echoed from deep within his memory. “Then you must be ready to test yourself against the elements, push yourself beyond your limits, and die a thousand deaths over. The woodpecker always struggles in its early days before it becomes strong enough to drill holes into trees.”
Julian acknowledged his father’s words as he picked up a large, bundled sack and placed it on his back. Already, he could feel the sweat forming in anticipation of the activity ahead. Then he dashed off into the street, into the dark, cool, humid morning. Julian spent the rest of the twilight hours jogging about the neighborhood, trying his best to be as silent as he could. Then, the moment he felt the sun begin to illuminate the horizon, the young lord veered toward the forest. He felt his muscles strain with the tension of his labor, pressing himself harder to take his mind off the discomfort. To become a great warrior, “You must learn to move with the music of nature,” his memory flashed. They were the words of his father when he had just begun his training.
“My son, if you wish to be the first and the best, walking on the road of extreme victories, you must first be one with nature—understand it, perceive it, and receive it,” Joel’s voice echoed. “There is a reason why the cheetah is the fastest cat.”
“Father, I have no understanding of the ways of nature; it tells me nothing,” Julian had replied in a confused tone.
“That is because you don’t listen to the song which nature sings. Because you are not patient enough to listen, because you are not filled with the wisdom of silence. The moment you understand this, you will be able to react to the wisdom of nature.”
“How can I achieve the wisdom of silence?”
“By sitting and becoming one with nature.”
The focused eyes of the child matched those of the man he had become, only now they were stripped of innocence. He had never truly understood the law of silence, so he never truly comprehended the song of nature. Instead, his skills were achieved through the laws of desperate determination and hard work, furiously mastering the art of fighting. Looking toward the east and west, he practiced his technique faithfully. Julian used ropes to suspend several sticks in the air and began to strike them using defensive and attack methods, hoping to be ready in case of sudden combat. As the sun rose higher into the afternoon sky, Julian started to sweat. The extra weight on both the practice sword and his limbs made him far clumsier than usual. It would soon be time for him to return home.
The Noble’s Home
The rich house stood tall and strong, adorned with some of the finest artworks El-von had to offer, with servants moving about tending to the well-being of the estate. Lord Joel was fully dressed, prepared to attend the king’s court, while Norman was busy practicing his archery.
“Master,” one of the servants greeted, “Lord Julian has arrived.”
Joel looked toward the entrance and saw his son arriving with branches and leaves on his back—which were required to cure the sick of the plague—along with two sticks, a sword, and his ever-focused eyes.
“And what are the branches for?” Lord Joel inquired by way of greeting.
“They are for those on the sickbed,” Julian replied. “I was told by a traveling physician that boiling the leaves with the wood would make the potion more effective.”
“How is the boy?” Joel continued.
“He’s improving. Very soon he will be able to leave with his mother,” Julian replied as he walked toward his room. Suddenly, he lost his footing and almost fell over. Lord Joel quickly reached out to steady his son.
“Are you alright, my son?” Joel inquired with genuine concern. “I am supposed to see the king, but it can be delayed if you are unwell. The mother hen would never leave her chick.”
“I'm fine, father. I pushed myself a little too hard this morning, that’s all,” Julian replied. “I will oversee matters of the house, so rest easy. Father, return quickly; your sons await.”
“You still haven’t mastered the song of nature, have you?” Joel smiled.
“I will, eventually,” Julian growled. Joel almost laughed.
Without another word, Joel left the house to saddle his horse, leaving Norman and Julian to take care of the estate.
“Julian, why must he always serve the crown and ignore his family?” Norman inquired.
“I wish I knew, brother. But I believe he trusts in us, his own sons, yet fears for the king,” Julian replied. “King Felton needs his advisers to keep him from making a wrong decision.”
“Come, brother, we have a lot to achieve. The moon festival is only days away,” Norman said, pulling Julian’s hand.
“We will be prepared,” Julian said. “And Steffen?”
“I believe he has already begun with the preparations,” Norman replied.
Julian walked down the corridor leading to his quarters and opened the door next to his room. The Horian child was sleeping soundly in the bed, his mother sitting by his side holding his hand. It would be best not to disturb them; he could check on them much later. Julian tried to close the door quietly, but for some unknown reason, the boy’s mother noticed his presence. She quickly marched up to the door and intercepted the retreating noble. Julian tried to signal for her to return to rest, but the woman began kissing his hand in gratitude. Julian had to say something to resolve the awkward situation.
“Two days from now and he will be able to walk home,” he said. “It is a good thing that we found him when we did; the plague could have killed him.”
“My lord, what can I give for this kindness?” the woman said with an unfamiliar accent.
“Hand me material wealth and you insult me. Hand me your prayers and good wishes, and I will cherish them forever,” Julian replied.
The woman stood, kissed Julian’s hand once more, and thanked him from the depths of her heart. Later that day, Julian and his brother hurried down the busy street. As they walked, Julian’s ever-focused eyes noticed the townspeople whispering to one another, throwing suspicious looks in his general direction.
Julian wondered how a man who stood next to the king could pick the poorest part of the kingdom to build his house, and why those very people gossiped and spoke negatively against a man who meant them no harm. Well, he knew the true reason for living among the poor was to win their hearts in favor of the king and help those who could not help themselves. Usually, as they passed, the people of Ekron would salute the sons of Joel. But now, there was only silence and whispers.
“Eliza!” Norman said, answering Julian’s unvoiced question.
“What?” Julian inquired.
“Eliza,” Norman continued. “For some reason, her gossip has won the hearts of the people.”
“That’s impossible,” Julian protested. “If I find out she has stripped away my dignity, I will unleash my anger.”
But the strange looks in the eyes of the people persisted. For Norman to have noticed the change, it had to be a serious lie. That foolish girl must have spun such a fable that the people now doubted the integrity of their family.
After a while, they encountered some friendly faces who greeted the two as they reached their destination: a large hall filled with traditional drums of all kinds. A few nobles, both male and female, were gathered, and the place was decorated with bamboo, mats, and traditional ornaments in preparation for the festival.
“Julian, my overly serious friend, you have finally arrived! Come in, there is much to be done,” cried Steffen, a close friend of the family.
Steffen was a tall, broad man with a winning smile and a charming personality. He was famous for his reputation for making people laugh, and nobles from all walks of life frequently called upon his services as a master of ceremonies because of his eloquent tongue.
“Tell me, Steffen,” Julian growled, in no mood for jokes. “As my best friend, tell me. What did Eliza say about my family?”
Steffen was Julian’s closest and most well-respected friend; many called him the happy heart. He was just as tall as Julian and spent almost all his time with him. People said Steffen was the only man alive who could put a smile on Julian’s face, and the only one who would stand firmly beside him in times of trouble. Truthfully, Julian was naturally hot-tempered and prone to drawing his blade at the object of his rage. Steffen, on the other hand, was like a spring of cool water that extinguished the flames of Julian‘s temper, even if his methods were unorthodox.
Steffen shifted uncomfortably. It was clear he was thinking of how best to disclose the information without enraging the already fuming noble.
“I-I don’t think she has done anything,” Steffen replied, choosing his words carefully.
Julian growled to Steffen’s clear discomfort. “Julian, don’t worry about Eliza's whimpering, it's only...”
“Tell me, Steffen!” Julian growled dangerously. “For I am vexed with anger and stress.”
Julian’s eyes had become intensely focused, and Steffen knew from experience that his friend had gone far beyond reasoning; there was no stopping him from doing what he had proposed in his heart.
“I wish to be told, now!” Julian demanded.
“Julian, my friend,” Steffen began, measuring his words carefully. “Eliza spread rumors of your early morning walks, that’s all.”
“What!” Julian voiced in surprise. “She knows about my training before the rising of the sun?”
He scowled, realizing the kinds of seeds a woman with a loose tongue could sow based on ungrounded facts.
“Julian,” Steffen cautioned, “I know all about your training. I told everyone that she was lying, so don’t worry. Soon the people will know the truth.”
“Tell me everything,” Julian growled.
Steffen looked at Julian carefully, measuring his mental stability, trying to figure out how much information to give and how to deliver it to the enraged noble. Was there a way to tell him the truth without him launching into a quest for vengeance?
“Remember, Julian,” Steffen said, finding his voice with a glint of mischief in his grin. “You are the son of a great warlord. You have not yet spilled the blood of your enemies, so please do not lay a hand on her life. What would the people say? That Julian, son of Joel, captain of a mighty army, claimed his first kill against a worthless, loud-mouthed woman?”
Julian responded exactly as Steffen had hoped. He calmed himself down, though the underlying anger remained.
“Speak,” Julian commanded in a more controlled tone.
“She said that you have joined the Horians and that you worship their demons. She also claims you plan to betray the king in favor of Horia, and she spoke of multiple acts of fornication with Horian harlots. She even claimed the king banished you when you were last at the palace.”
Norman walked toward the corner of the hall and sat down next to some drums in bitterness, while Julian’s face showed no change in expression. He simply stood there, digesting the bitter information. All the onlookers watched in confusion, the tension so thick it could be cut with a blade. Suddenly, Julian spoke.
“Lies!”
“I know, Julian. Everybody knows,” Steffen interceded.
“All lies!!”
“Julian, let not her words...” Steffen continued.
Before Steffen could finish his statement, Julian stormed off, walking toward the eating-house where Eliza lived. As he fumed toward his destination, those present tried to talk him out of doing something he would regret. The only ones who remained in the hall were Steffen and Norman.
“Steffen, you know what my brother is like when he is angry,” Norman said anxiously. “Why are you not trying to stop him?”
“Because I know he will not kill anybody,” Steffen replied with a slight grin. “The pride of a noble,” he muttered to himself with a smile.
Julian stormed through the streets filled with the essence of his rage; anything that got in his way was knocked aside. His eyes were half-closed from fury, and his mind was in a state of chaos. How he wished to strangle that woman on the spot, but Steffen’s words held his worst impulses at bay. As he reached the eating-house, some part of his sanity returned. He spent a few moments in silence, thinking of an action that would terrify the girl yet vindicate his dignity.
All those who had followed him pleaded, trying to prevent him from walking inside, begging him to come to his senses. Julian reached to his side and drew his long sword. Seeing this, the crowd cautiously backed away, giving the enraged noble a wide berth. He approached the entrance of the eating-house. The moment of truth had come. Julian furiously kicked the door, shattering the wooden frame into smaller splinters.
Those within the eating-house, busy with their meals, were shocked into absolute awareness. Then the noble spoke.
“I am Julian, son of Joel, captain of the host of El-von, and by my command—everybody out!”
So he spoke, and so it was done. Every man within the eating-house fled; no one wanted the wrath of Julian to spill into their own cup, and they all had knowledge of Eliza’s reputation. In a matter of moments, the eating-house was empty, leaving only Eliza and her mother alone with Julian.
Julian, with a fiery rage in his eyes, quietly sat down and placed his dagger on the table. He looked down at a bronze cup filled with expensive wine. He started to take deep breaths, working to stay his anger before it exploded into an uncontrollable mania. His hands trembled as he poured the wine into a cup; he could barely contain himself, but his pride stood its ground, reminding him that should he slay such foolish women, he would be the one to suffer the regret.
"Lord Julian, what would you like me to get for you? It’s been quite a while since your last visit," Eliza said, looking at him in excitement.
Julian might have put a lid on his rage, but his anger had not abated, and he knew that Eliza cared nothing for his temper. She was a beautiful girl, quite small in stature, with long blonde hair and an excellent figure. Her mother was a mirror reflection of her, only she looked much older, with strands of white hair growing through her long tresses.
"A bottle of strong gin," he demanded, straining to hold back his anger.
After a while, Eliza placed the bottle of gin on the table, opened it, and sat down next to Julian, smiling like an innocent babe. She held his hand and smiled seductively. This girl is definitely begging to be killed, Julian thought to himself.
"Now tell me," Julian said in an unsteady voice, "why do you enjoy speaking evil about my family and me?" He poured just a bit of the gin into a small metallic cup.
"It doesn’t matter, my lord Julian, for now you are here with those who love you," Eliza replied, purring as she caressed his right forearm.
I'm going to murder her, he thought. Julian forced a smile as he slowly picked up the knife from the table. The noble used the blade to cut his own finger, allowing the crimson liquid to drop freely into the cup of dry gin.
Then he said, "Tell me why you spread false truths about my family. Why do you speak these lies in the face of everyone in the kingdom? Now I sit in front of you. Look me in the eye, and tell me to my face what wrong my family has done to you."
"It matters not, my lord Julian, stay a while," Eliza responded in an attempt to dismiss the matter, completely failing to understand the gravity of the situation.
"Promise me you will not scream," Julian said in a casual tone.
"I promise," Eliza said foolishly. Her mother had left the two alone several moments ago, so she failed to notice Julian's sinister movements.
Julian softly took Eliza's hand and placed it on the table. The foolish girl actually thought the noble wanted to kiss it. Within the blink of an eye, Julian drove the dagger down next to her hand—or at least, that was what it looked like. Shocked by the sudden movement, Eliza yelped.
"You promised," Julian mocked. "You promised to keep quiet."
Eliza’s eyes were wide with astonishment. Who would have thought he would go this far just to demand her silence? What was wrong with him? It wasn’t as if she had done anything wrong; when a woman wants to get the attention of the man she loves, she naturally says things to scare her rivals away. To Eliza’s relief, the blade had only made partial contact with her skin, and the cut was mild, meaning there would be no lasting damage.
Julian then held her wounded hand over the cup, allowing drops of her blood to mix with the gin, and then he spoke. “I, Julian, swear an oath, that should Eliza, or her mother, or anyone else from her kin, dare to speak evil against my family, I will have her killed.”
Eliza whimpered at those words.
“Until I free you from this oath, you are hereby forbidden from saying anything evil or good about my family.” He drank a little of the gin to seal the oath, then handed the cup to Eliza. “Now swear that you will never speak anything evil or good about my family!” he commanded.
She looked at him in surprise. “But…” she said reluctantly.
“Now!” Julian shouted in rage.
“I… I swear never to say anything evil against the family of Julian, and if I should break this oath, he has the right to avenge himself,” Eliza whispered in a defeated tone.
“Now drink,” Julian said, handing her the cup of dried gin mixed with blood. She reluctantly accepted the cup and consumed the contents.
Now the smile on Julian’s face was genuine. Eliza’s mother had seen all that had happened from afar and watched in horror as the events unfolded. Julian walked triumphantly out of the eating-house, leaving the two women to reflect on their actions.
As Julian stepped outside, he noticed a crowd of onlookers. They had seen what he had done through the windows, and from the expressions on their faces, they approved of his sudden, sharp action—at least it was better than killing them like a savage. He felt the rays of the sun touching his face and heard the sweet sound of freedom, knowing that the queen of torment could no longer speak of him for the rest of her life.
“This is true freedom,” he said to himself with a smile.
Steffen walked toward his friend with a dark, scrutinizing glare in his eyes. Julian could tell that his friend was trying to figure out if he had truly harmed the foolish girl. Then Steffen’s eyes caught sight of Julian’s bleeding finger, and he grimaced.
“What!” Julian said in a confused tone. It wasn’t as if he had killed the girl; he had only placed a threat upon her life.
“I asked you not to spill female blood,” Steffen said sarcastically, “instead you walked in and spilled your own! Have you gone bananas?”
Julian actually laughed at the comment. Yes, anger truly does make one lose one's mind. Then Steffen burst into hearty laughter. As soon as he was able to catch his breath, he asked, “Tell me, Julian, seriously—did it feel good?”
Then they both burst into another spasm of laughter, a laughter so contagious that everyone present joined in. Yes, Steffen knew exactly how to lighten the hearts of the crowd and bring a smile back to Julian's face.
Joel’s Royal Mission
The royal hall was the vast chamber the king used to declare his royal decrees and enforce the authority of his monarchy. The hall of judgment, he called it, because it was within these confines that he had passed judgment on many of his political opponents, assassins, and criminals of the state.
Yet the hall also possessed pleasant memories; it was here that he had first met his wife. She had been a vision at that time, almost godlike in the evening gown she wore to grace the occasion. It was also within these walls that he had his first meeting with Lord Joel, back when they were just teenagers up to mischief. The king chuckled at the memory of all the things they had done to annoy his father.
Finally, the hall held some strangely unpleasant memories as well. It was within this room that he had engaged in an argument that lasted a whole day with the elders of the legislative council; he had also fought and killed a misguided knight in a life-or-death trial by combat, and the walls still retained some of the scars of that blood feud. Now he was here once again, prepared to carry out his royal duties, as bothersome as they seemed. Thankfully, Lord Joel stood by his side, ready to give counsel where it was needed. Victor walked in and presented himself to the king.
“Speak, Victor, for we are listening,” Felton called authoritatively. “This is the voice of the king.”
“Sire,” Victor began, hiding the bitterness deep within, “it has been brought to my attention that the king of Ronknole has passed away.” Victor paused to allow the news to sink in. “And his son, Prince Daniel, has taken his place as king.”
“That is very sad news,” the king replied, failing to conceal the pain he felt. “Lord Joel, for the sake of the peace we’ve made with our neighbors, you must go and console King Daniel concerning his father’s death. I believe he was once your student.”
“Yes, my lord, it will be done,” Lord Joel bowed. “He was as bright as a stallion in its maiden gallop, always ready to learn something new.”
No one in the hall noticed Victor’s sinister sneer, or the fact that the assistant general was about to perpetrate an act of absolute evil.
“Take my daughter with you,” Felton continued. “I think it’s time for her to take part in the administrative activities of this kingdom, so diplomacy would be the best starting point. Don’t you agree, Lord Joel? This is the voice of the king.”
“Absolutely, your highness,” the noble replied with a grin. “I will make all the preparations. It is time for the chick to fly out of the nest.”
As Joel walked away from the king’s presence, a woman hurried up to him.
“My Lord Joel,” she said, calling for his attention.
“Yes!” he replied.
“It’s your son Julian, he’s…”
“What’s wrong with my son?” Joel inquired with a puzzled, anxious look. “Tell me!”
Joel all but dragged the woman out of the hall, terrified that her news might give the king a negative opinion of his son. The king was now left alone with Victor and the other lesser attendants.
Victor smiled viciously. This is my chance, my only chance to tear down the walls surrounding the king, he thought. After that, the death of Julian. Then no one else, not one male, will be able to claim the high crown. With the king dead, the dynasty will be broken and a new dynasty will arise. I will be king—the king of the new dynasty.
“Victor!” the king shouted, causing the scheming noble to jump with a start.
“What’s wrong with you, boy? Did the whore of last night drain your essence along with your strength?” the king mocked.
“Forgive me, your highness,” Victor voiced quickly. “I was lost in thought.”
“Tell me, how far has your investigation gone into last night’s poisoning?” the king inquired.
“Not far, my Lord,” Victor replied. “The royal taster was killed last night as well; his body was found hidden in the storerooms.”
“Curses!” the king exclaimed. “Very well, continue with the investigation, but keep me informed.”
Victor bowed to the king and excused himself. He had better start with his plan before Lord Joel crossed the El-vonian borders, or he could simply have the noble killed on his return journey.
⏪Chapter 3.
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