Traveler of the Void - Part 1 Chapter 2 - The Martial Arts Demonstration Ceremony

 Traveler of the Void

(Book 4 of the Guardian of the Spirit Series)

Author: Uehashi Nahoko

Translator: Ainikki the Archivist

 

Part 1 - City on the Sea

Chapter 2 - The Martial Arts Demonstration Ceremony

    "Oi! I told you I wanted old leather hand wraps. Wraps made of new leather will make our hands bleed! We can't possibly use these at the Martial Arts Demonstration Ceremony!" Prince Tarsan shouted as he threw the leather straps at his servants. The straps contacted the servants' shoulders with a cutting sound like that of a whip. The servants quickly vanished into the weapons supply room to find new—or old?—straps.

    Prince Tarsan was much taller and stronger than his fourteen years would suggest. He had a reputation at the court as something of a hothead.

    A girl working on embroidering a chest guard with gold thread said, "Tarsan, take a breath. You're snapping at everyone like a starving shark. Do you intend to bring that attitude with you to the ceremony?" She giggled at him.

    Tarsan glanced at her. Though she too was tall, he towered over his older sister Saluna. "I'm not about to present myself as a foreign fool or a coward. Better a starving shark than that."

    Saluna gave him a tight smile. "Well, there's nothing for it. No matter what happens, our older brother could still trounce you."

    "Then what's the point in talking about my attitude?"

    Yesterday evening, Crown Prince Chagum of New Yogo had arrived at the royal palace as a guest of state. After exchanging formal greetings with the royal family, he'd been led through the palace's annex, and that was when Crown Prince Karnan had said the words that had cut Prince Tarsan to his very core.

    Karnan had looked over at Tarsan and said with a sigh, "Impeccable conduct. Clever answers to questions. Is he really the same age as you? I can't believe it. He's so dignified, like a high-quality pearl concealed inside an oyster shell. He has an inner quality somewhat like that of the most powerful pirate families of our nation, but no pirate has ever achieved such a high level of personal dignity."

    His gaze had flicked over Tarsan, up and down. "You come off as a blunt harpoon in comparison. It is good to be manly and forthright, but members of our family must possess the same qualities as that prince. During my coronation, I beg you not to offend our foreign guests with your vulgarity."

    Tarsan snorted through his nose.

    "Sorry I'm so rude...but I can't help it. I was raised on Kalsh, not in the capital. Karnan's spent time on Kalsh, too. I really wish we could have been raised together, in the home city of Sangal's royal family. I know we'd understand one another better then. And it's not like you learn dignity just by having people respect you. I'm stronger than every Yaltash Shuri in Sangal. I know I haven't done much with trade markets, but I've always been praised for my valor and strength in protecting our people from invaders and pirates. Much more than an elegant pearl, I want to be seen as a spear sharp and powerful enough to split the heavens."

    He said this all in one breath, eyes fixed on his sister. "Is that wrong?"

    Saluna stepped closer to her brother and tapped his fists with her own. "I happen to like blunt harpoons. You don't need to become any kind of pearl if you don't want to. Our brother's the one that's going to be king, so he was raised in the palace. You'll be the one to lead our armies, which is why you were raised on the island of Kalsh. You are the ideal embodiment of a strong, sea-tempered warrior of Sangal's royal family." She paused. "But I also think I know what our brother was talking about.

    "I think Karnan meant to say that you're too direct. Members of the royal family need power, yes, but they also need something else. A hidden strength, like the beam supporting a roof to keep it from collapsing. It's a kind of strength that distinguishes us from the common people.

    "During the audience with Crown Prince Chagum, I felt the same way our brother did. In New Yogo, it's said that if a member of their royal family so much as looks at a common person directly, that person will be struck by lightning. But...there is something other than raw power in that prince's eyes. Something concealed deeply, so deep I couldn't see to the bottom of it. Whatever it is, it's an incredible strength. Didn't you see it?"

    Tarsan stared at his sister with his eyebrows furrowed together.

    "You're the sort of person that conceals nothing about themselves," Saluna said. "You know I place great confidence in you just as you are, and that your people love you. Let that be enough for now. You really have nothing to worry about."

    Tarsan's shoulders sagged. "I don't really get what you're saying. I should be like the supporting beam of a roof? I don't understand it, and I'd rather not be afraid of something I seem to be lacking. I'd rather be myself—and be feared."

    Saluna smiled. She loved her shockingly direct little brother. He was overly violent and still young, but not stupid. She knew the day would come when he would understand what she'd said.

    The servants came scrambling back and presented a new set of fist wraps to Prince Tarsan. They moved to wrap the straps around his hands, but Saluna stopped them, took the wraps and unfurled them before wrapping her brother's hands carefully.

    "Everyone will be terrified of you when they see these fists."

    Tarsan looked up at his smiling sister. His feelings of burning rage gradually lessened. His sister was clever, with golden skin and large brown eyes. Her features were a bit severe, but this had the effect of always making her emotions clear on her face. Many desired her as a wife, but men that wanted to marry into the royal family of Sangal had to be thoroughly prepared for the experience. If the men of the royal family had enough strength in their arms to crush a kingdom, the women possessed a perceptive insight that could cut right to the heart of any plot. Their powers of perception were formidable.

    From the founding of the kingdom, the women of the islands of the Yaltash Ocean had been considered the country's most vital—and irreplaceable—treasure.

    The Kings of Sangal had governed these islands for a few hundred years. The kingdom had not always been as large as it was currently. In the beginning, pockets of islands would band together here and there, forming temporary alliances to fend off pirate raiders. When the men of the islands had reached marriageable age, they had joined their local militias to protect their homes—unless the fishing season had been poor, in which case they'd often turned pirate for a season themselves, attacking islands that they were not allies with in order to acquire food and resources.

    When they’d lacked enough hands to continue this progression, the people of Sangal had sent slave hunters—Rash Tashi—to other nations. That was how Sangal's early kingdom was formed. Although slavery had been abolished in Sangal by modern laws, the custom of buying and selling slaves by Sangal tradesmen continued as a practice in other countries.

    As for the pirates: while fending off attacks from other raiders and from the people of the islands, their armies had also grown strong enough for them to settle and found a nation of their own. But to consider it a country in the same way as Sangal or New Yogo, which both followed the guidance of one centralized leader, would be a mistake. The people of the pirate nation served whoever the most beneficial candidate was for their interests, whether those interests were trade or war. Often, these were ruthless men. No single leader gained dominance over the others for very long.  

    The ancestors of Sangal's royal family had been pirates. But a succession of outrageously strong men and astonishingly perceptive women had managed to distinguish themselves from ordinary pirates by soundly beating back all opposition and by forging alliances whose bonds were strong enough to last even after the original leaders that had negotiated them had died. Little by little, Sangal had built up its vast empire by the aptness of its leaders and the strength of its alliances.

    Even some two hundred years after its founding, the essential character of the people of Sangal had not changed. Oh, the size of Sangal's dominion had increased, and its language was much altered: there were citizens in the kingdom that could not speak a word of Sangal's standard dialect.

    The larger Sangal kingdom had swallowed up twelve smaller nations in its conquests. The Kings of those regions had become regional governors, but were still known by their traditional title of Island Guardians. The Island Guardians maintained their strong ties with the Yaltash Shuri, the brothers of the sea—men who, in the past, had been conscripted to defend their homes once they'd reached marriageable age, and who even now comprised the bulk of the King of Sangal's army. Every Island Guardian was permitted to collect taxes within their domain and to hire mercenaries and armies as they saw fit.

    The King of Sangal could in turn levy taxes on the Island Guardians and conscript troops from any—or all—of the islands. The king's heir was always raised in the capital and trained as a soldier in the king's army. Generals were selected from the very best soldiers of the army to lead troops in battle. The king's second son was always made the leader of these and called the High General. All Island Guardians had to obey the High General's orders as well as the king's.

    As Sangal became larger, the Island Guardians came to fear invasion by outsiders and attacks by pirate raids less and less, which gave them leeway to expand Sangal's already extensive trade network into foreign markets. And so the Island Guardians became wealthy and resourceful sea merchants. The rulers of Sangal became fabulously wealthy by imposing taxes on imported goods.

    Of course, there were always people that chafed under the king's rule: those that threw away their ties to their homeland to settle on islands that were not ruled by Sangal. Some of these would become Rassharō, the nomadic sea-drifters. People that owed no allegiance to the King of Sangal paid no taxes. Such people were not particularly uncommon. If a man had three sons, one might serve the king, another might serve an Island Guardian, and the third might serve neither.

    Because of the scale of the kingdom, the King of Sangal was no longer directly responsible for the care and well-being of his subjects; neither was he the sole arbiter of judgement for crimes. The King chose representatives that he perceived to be the best-suited to the tasks of governance. These loose human connections formed the basis of the unified Sangal.

    In order to strengthen these bonds, it was common practice for female members of the royal family to wed Island Guardians. This served a few purposes: first, it allowed these women of rank to observe and potentially quash any flames of rebellion in Island Guardians before they got started; and second, it provided a way to elevate the position and status of the Island Guardians themselves—even Island Guardians whose territory was small or of little note.

    The Island Guardians had some cause to fear their wives, and not just because of their rank. The electors of every Island Guardian were the women of Sangal's royal family. In a case where a current Island Guardian was not considered to be a suitable match, the bride-to-be would call a conference of all of the women of her rank and the women would unanimously choose a new Island Guardian for her to marry. The right to call such a conference did not end after the woman was married. If she grew to dislike her current husband strongly enough, she had the right to call the conference, which would dissolve the current marriage and sanctify another.

    Every time a new Island Guardian was due to take over the governance of their territory, this all-female conference was automatically called to the royal court. It was the responsibility of these women, all members of the royal family and with unquestioned loyalty and unrivalled wisdom, to select the new Island Guardian.

    In many ways, these women manipulated the levers of power that governed Sangal. From birth, each of them received a thorough and exhaustive education. Princesses and queens were included in this group of course, as well as the daughters, wives, and female cousins of Island Guardians. From the age of four, they gathered to live collectively at the royal palace, permitted to visit their home islands for only a third of each year. After coming of age at twelve, they began a long expedition to all of Sangal's islands, so as to best learn about the living conditions on each of them.

    Granted both thorough knowledge and long years of traveling experience, the abilities of these women could not be compared with those of any other women in the world.

    The current King of Sangal had two sons and three daughters. In order of age, they were Crown Prince Karnan, Princess Karina, Princess Roksana (who was already wed), Princess Saluna, and the youngest, Prince Tarsan.

    Prince Tarsan wrapped a belt around his hips as he spoke. "Saluna...I think I got mad at what our brother said because I don't want to be like that prince. At all. Haven't we been taught since were were born that we have to walk on our own two feet? I want to be a shield strong enough to protect our home. I don't think of myself as anything else. I've trained this hard for this long to be strong enough to be that shield. With me protecting our nation, I'm sure any number of hidden pearls will be able to form in peace, thanks to me.

    "Tell me, is that Prince Chagum even capable of protecting his homeland? His position protects him from anything that might damage his fragile dignity. Aside from when we exchanged greetings, his face was wrapped up behind that white cloth. Because in his own country, apparently, that's the only way common people would be able to look at him. That little..."

    Chagum's pale face swam up in his mind's eye. Tarsan suddenly remembered his rage. "And he came most of the way here in an oxcart. An oxcart! What was he thinking? If he'd chosen horses he would've gotten here faster. Is it really all that beneficial for us to be allies with his country?"

    Tarsan spat the words loudly and venomously, but then he was distracted. The soldiers set to participate in the Martial Arts Demonstration Ceremony finished donning their garb and prepared to match themselves against Sangal’s second prince.

    Tarsan gave them a moment to prepare, then followed them into the exhibition hall. They grinned as they bowed to him. Every man was well-built, obviously strong, and deeply suntanned. They had been selected from the King Tafmur’s army as the best fist fighters the country had to offer.

    The men belonged to various divisions in the army, but among those that specialized in hand fighting, there wasn't a single one that was not at least passingly familiar with Tarsan. He knew most of these men well. He was the youngest of the group, but his physique, physical strength and honed skill would not put him at a disadvantage against any adult opponent. The soldiers that served as his personal guards as well as those that served in other sections of the army recognized him as a warrior worthy of respect.

    Within the group of assembled men were many war veterans. When they caught sight of Tarsan in his ceremonial uniform, one said earnestly, "Your Majesty...truly, it suits you. You look just like High General Yunan." The others fell suddenly silent. The king's brother Yunan had been High General of Sangal, a man of renowned bravery that the entire army had believed in and respected. He had died of an unexpected illness less than two years past, and he'd had no son. The soldiers of the army knew that Yunan had treated Tarsan very much like his own son. Tarsan had been told many times that he resembled his uncle in his younger days.

    Tarsan was happy at the compliment, but his eyebrows drew together. "Thank you. I hope to demonstrate through my performance that the resemblance is not in appearance only."

    "I am sure your guests will be amazed. We're the ones that know the strength of your arm best, after all," one of the members of Tarsan's personal guard said. He laughed a little. "Every time we spar, you leave me with bruises where the chest guard doesn't reach, Your Majesty."

    Tarsan looked closely at him and saw that there were indeed mottled bruises along a thin strip of the man's abdomen that the chest guard had not protected. Tarsan let out a breath.

    "Those are my fault," he said. "From now on, I'll only aim for the places that the chest guard protects." He clapped the young guard on the shoulder. "Come, men. Let's show our foreign visitors the might of Sangal!"

    The men cheered. Tarsan began walking. The others fell into step behind him. As he walked, he slammed the knuckles of his wrapped fists together in anticipation. I wonder if I'll ever get to hit that damn prince.

    If Tarsan ever did manage to land a solid blow to Crown Prince Chagum's face, what would happen? He'd probably get a bloody nose. Good luck maintaining his dignity then. Tarsan's lips twitched upward in a faint smile.

    Chagum felt sweat moving in a line down his spine as he sat in the royal courtyard in a chair reserved for guests of state. This country was much warmer than he'd anticipated—he’d never sweated outside in the middle of winter before. The semitransparent cloth covering he wore completely covered his forehead and eyes. It collected his sweat, and as a result he saw everything through what seemed like a film of water. As time went on, he became vaguely dizzy.

    This is certainly different from the Mikado's palace.

    Chagum sighed as he thought about the heavy seclusion and silence of his home. Sangal seemed like an unusually open and uninhibited kind of place. All the doors and windows of the palace gaped large, always open. The palace seemed to have been built to allow the wind to pass through it at every point. The shining white walls set against the backdrop of the deep blue sky and ocean waves were contrastive. Looking at it all almost hurt his eyes. And the flowers! They twisted around the pillars to the gates leading into the courtyard, fire-red, growing in large clusters of blossoms. Their sweet fragrance permeated the entire courtyard.

    In the very center of the courtyard was a pond, though that did not seem to be quite the right word for it. It was almost large enough to be called a lake. The mirror sheen of its surface reflected the sky perfectly. Twelve small flat-bottomed boats lined the sides of the pond.

    "Excuse me, Prince Chagum," a woman said in a clear voice.

    Chagum looked up at her. The woman addressing him stood behind the empty seat to his left. Chagum had wondered who might come to sit in it. The woman was tall, and not alone: three other women were with her, clearly her attendants.

    With a graceful movement, the woman bowed and bent to one knee. Her skin and eyes caught the rays of the setting sun as she moved. The gleam in her eyes was as vivid as if it were alive. Her long brown hair was styled in an imitation of flowers and vines. Her clothing was loose and thin, embroidered all over with tiny seed pearls. Her shoulders were entirely bare.

    "My name is Saluna," she said. "I am most grateful that you have traveled here from New Yogo to witness my brother's coronation ceremony. For the duration of your stay, it has been decided that this foolish one shall attend on you as a servant."

    Chagum suddenly stood up from his seat and removed the cloth from his face. "Princess Saluna, of the royal family of Sangal. I thank you for your generous welcome. Being received by a princess of this land does me great honor. Please rise, and and take a seat." He gestured to the empty seat next to him.

    Saluna smiled a little and took the seat indicated. Suddenly, the delicate fragrance of flowers—different from those in the courtyard—wafted toward Chagum's face. He had rarely ever talked to a young woman so close to his own age before, and the thought of doing so now made him nervous. He tried not to let his feelings show on his face.

    Many guests of state had been invited to the coronation ceremony. Seats had been arranged to completely surround the pond. In those seats, Chagum saw the other foreign dignitaries and their attendants. He also noticed many wives of Island Guardians and other women of royal rank mixed in among the guests. Looking closer, he realized that the King must have arranged things so that each guest would be greeted by a woman of about their own age.

    "Your Yogoese is very fluent," Chagum said. "You surprised me."

    "Thank you. We learn the languages of the countries we are friends with from an early age."

    Chagum smiled faintly, then said in fluent Sangalese: "So do we. I have been learning Sangalese since childhood. While learning it, I often thought of the people of Sangal, living in their beautiful country to the south."

    Saluna's eyebrows went up. "Well...I didn't know that. I thought that the royal family of New Yogo spoke nothing but Yogoese."

    "The Mikado speaks nothing but Yogoese, because he is the soul of the nation. But while he was a prince, he also learned many languages. Words are the soul's voice. Without knowing a country's words, it's impossible to know its soul. Sangalese is a very musical language."

    Saluna smiled broadly at him. "Yes, I feel the same. Sangalese lends itself well to a grand chorus of raised voices before battle—or to solo ballads echoing across the waves." Saluna looked at the surface of the pond and pointed. "We call that water Ruhn Yaltash, the Surrounded Sea. The sea is considered the mother of all the people of Sangal."

    After saying this, Saluna remembered something that made her giggle. "When my brother Tarsan was little, he jumped in. Said he was going to play with the fish."

    Her whole demeanor changed as she related the exploits of her mischievous younger brother. Chagum's heart warmed to her. He was jealous that there was a royal family that could so openly discuss its foibles with outsiders. The world he'd come from had been based entirely on his blood ties to the Mikado—and all the stifling expectations of perfection that came with them. The only thing his kinship with the Mikado had ever really gotten him was threats and attempts on his life.

    "I never considered that a prince could play like that," Chagum said. "But I can imagine it. It seems that the people of Sangal are full of lively energy. Even this Martial Arts Demonstration Ceremony will be a fight held over water, to honor Sangal's long history of bravely battling the waves."

    At that moment, he heard the strange sound of a flute playing up and down the notes of an octave. "Please turn your attention to the Gate of the Sea," an announcer called out. "Sangal's heroes shall enter from there."

    Two rows of men marching in file entered from the Gate of the Sea, their dark skin burnished gold in the light of the setting sun. All of them had their fists wrapped in leather and wore elaborately decorated chest guards as well as loincloths held up by ceremonial belts. Aside from this, they wore no other clothing.

    Chagum looked at their leader, a proud boy with his head held high, and was a little surprised. He recognized him as one of the princes that had greeted him the previous night.

    "Isn't that Prince Tarsan at the front of the line?" he asked.

    "Yes. Prince Tarsan is Sangal's most skilled hand fighter."

    Jealousy welled up in Chagum's chest again. He envied the freedom of a prince being allowed to personally and bodily participate in a martial arts tournament honoring his brother.

    The flute played a shrill note. The announcer said, "King Tafmur and Prince Karnan will enter now."

    Saluna whispered something and stood up. Chagum stood as well.

    From the palace's northern side at the Gate of the Sky, the King of Sangal and Prince Karnan entered together. Karnan led his oldest son by the hand. The newly born prince was carried by his mother, the queen-to-be, at the rear of the procession.

    All the foreign guests of state broke out into simultaneous applause.

    "Friends, allies, esteemed guests. Welcome to the coronation ceremony of the new King of Sangal. Please share our nation's joy with us for the duration of the festivities." The King of Sangal's voice boomed so loud that it carried to the furthest corners of the courtyard and echoed off the walls.

    The sound of the applause became even louder. "And now, for the first of our ceremonies, the Martial Arts Demonstration. All of our country's finest fighters will be participating in the event. It is a somewhat violent way to celebrate, but we of Sangal take great pride in being brave sailors that fight on rough seas. Please, enjoy yourselves."

    The twelve men set to participate in the ceremony briefly greeted the guests, then spread out, six to each side of the pond in the center of the courtyard. They stood so that they faced one another.

    The sound of the flute faded away and was replaced with the steady beating of a drum.

    At the sound, the twelve fighters leaped through the air in perfect arcs, each one landing directly onto one of the flat-bottomed boats in the water. The boats sank briefly under their weight before resurfacing. Not a single fighter stumbled or lost their balance.

    Ta-tum. The rhythm of the drum beats quickened. The fighters leaped through the air once more, each one criss-crossing with another fighter in midair. They beat their chests with their fists as they flitted past one another.

    Each fighter alighted on a different boat than they'd been on before. Some stumbled this time, but none of them fell.

    The rhythm of the drum increased again. This time the men attempted to land blows on their opponents as they crossed them in midair—all while trying to land safely on a boat.

    The audience was utterly captivated by such a display of human agility and acrobatics. Chagum devoured the spectacle with his eyes.

    While watching the fighters land their blows on one another, Chagum suddenly heard the voice of someone he had long missed.

    Don't lose yourself in the moment. Observe everything. When there is a stone in the water, the water reacts and moves around it. As long as you observe everything, you will be able to react and see the direction the attack comes from.

    Balsa.

    Chagum struggled with all his might to prevent his emotions from showing on his face. An image of the woman that had worked so hard to protect him surfaced from his memories.

    Balsa had taught Chagum a Kanbalese breathing technique called chiki. It was a technique that could be used for both attack and defense. He had only begun to master the technique with Balsa, but he had honed what he knew of it over these past years. He hadn't kept in the habit of using the technique for its combat benefits. He'd kept it up because it helped him hold on to his memories of Balsa.

    Chagum used the technique. A short time later, he felt the benefits of it permeating his body. He'd always hoped to show Balsa his mastery of the technique one day—but that was an impossible dream.

    Many of the fighters on the water began to show their fatigue and started swaying steadily from side to side. Prince Tarsan remained on his feet.

    There was a terrific splash, then another, then another in rapid succession. Three men fell from their boats into the ceremonial pond. Some spectators gasped. A short time later the three fallen fighters surfaced, wiping water out of their eyes and wearing expressions of embarrassment. Some snorted water from their noses.

    As soon as the first group of fighters fell, their unsteadiness seemed to spread to the others, like the cumulative effect of snowflakes causing an avalanche. As the fighters leaped from their boats once again, they fell into the pond like rain. At the end of this leap, only three men managed to land safely on a boat. One of these was Prince Tarsan.

    The rhythm of the drum sped up once more. Without turning around, the three men leaped backwards off their boats back onto the shore. When Prince Tarsan landed near him, Chagum's body involuntarily twitched.

    Tarsan felt like he was on fire. The beats of the drum pounded through his blood. His body throbbed with remembered echoes of the blows he'd taken from his comrades in the ceremony. He was wound so tight he could hardly stand it. Power and heat flowed through him. Look at me, brother! Not a hidden pearl, but a spear piercing the heavens! You should rejoice to have such a brother!

    He could feel the aftershocks of blows in his shoulders and throughout his body. He had been quick and precise in his counterattacks and had cheered inwardly every time another man had fallen into the pond.

    It would be good for my brother to see that darling little pearl's fragility with his own eyes.

    The sound of the drum faded, signaling the end of the ceremony. Tarsan leaped backward off the boat he stood upon. All throughout the ceremony, Tarsan had nursed a secret desire to test Crown Prince Chagum in some way. He managed to land in front of Chagum and pretended to stumble as he landed. As he fell, he aimed a backward swing of his fist at Chagum.

    The blow connected to Chagum's cheek...or so he thought, but at that same moment he felt the force of his own blow recoil back up his arm. The next moment, he was thrown forward as if he'd been struck. Someone seized him strongly from behind.

    He turned to face the person holding him and stared directly into the startled eyes of Crown Prince Chagum with a feeling of cold rage.

    "What is this outrage, Tarsan!" Saluna stood up and faced her brother head-on. At this unexpected accident, the courtyard fell silent as death.

    The King of Sangal and Crown Prince Karnan stood swiftly. "What happened? Are you hurt, Crown Prince Chagum?"

    From behind Chagum's seat, guards and his own personal protectors scrambled forward to protect him from a danger that was already past. The faces of the guards were pale and pinched with shame.

    When Chagum realized he was entirely uninjured, he breathed a sigh of relief. Thanks to the chiki breathing technique, Tarsan's blow had been reflected squarely back at himself. Chagum scrambled to prevent Tarsan from falling, then met the prince's eyes as he turned to face him.

    Suddenly Tarsan's body felt extremely heavy. At first, Chagum saw only his own surprise reflected in Tarsan's eyes, but that quickly changed to anger. Tarsan blushed red to the tips of his ears. He finally realized the significance of what he had done. He had raised a hand as an opponent to a representative of an allied nation. He had meant to pass it all off as an accident, but even an accident occurring during a ceremony of this magnitude and importance would be considered a grave error—especially because it had befallen such an honored and esteemed guest. The consequences would have been even worse if Chagum had been injured.

    Tarsan knew that his own immature hubris and unbridled rage had gotten the better of him. Trembling, he fell to his knees in front of Chagum. He felt the eyes of his father and brother gazing down at him. When he glanced sidelong at their expressions, his stomach contracted.

    At that moment, he heard a voice from above.

    "Are you all right? You must have come down so hard as you fell," Crown Prince Chagum said. "Stumbling a bit while landing from a jump like that is understandable." Chagum stared steadily into Tarsan's eyes, but spoke for the whole room to hear. "Please, do not worry about me. I am unhurt. Although Prince Tarsan briefly lost his balance, he landed in such a way as to spare me injury. This demonstrates great consideration on his part." Little resembling the startled boy that had displayed such shock at Tarsan's blow, Chagum offered the clearly agitated King of Sangal a calm and measured smile.

    "It was a truly splendid ceremony. It has been my great honor to witness it. If our positions were ever reversed, I hope I would be capable of showing Prince Tarsan the same gracious consideration that he has shown me in shielding me from danger." Chagum's tone contained a hint of laughter. The guests of state immediately relaxed their silent vigilance. Here and there, people smiled. Small pockets of applause broke out.

    Both Crown Prince Karnan and the King of Sangal visibly relaxed, impressed with Chagum's tact in managing the situation. They returned to their seats.

    Prince Tarsan's entire body trembled with shame. Chagum's masterful manipulation of the circumstances had Tarsan coming off as a clumsy fool. He struggled to contain the roiling in his stomach.

    This cold prince that he hated had concealed all of this emotions behind his eyes, as if he'd dropped a curtain over them. Tarsan understood clearly that Chagum did not hate him. He struggled hard to contain his own hatred, writhing inside him like an animal. He didn't want to think about the implications of someone he hated not hating him in return.

    The musicians resumed playing in the courtyard. The men that had participated in the ceremony began reforming into lines near the pond.

    "Please forgive my terrible transgression," Prince Tarsan said, still on his knees. He stood and bowed, then turned back toward the pond.

    As he turned away, Chagum called out to him. "I..." Tarsan turned back to Chagum and met his eyes. "I don't want such a trivial matter to be a thorn between us," Chagum said.

    Tarsan scrunched his eyebrows, but did not break eye contact with Chagum. When he saw his hatred reflected back at him from Chagum's mirror-surface eyes, he was astonished at the force of it. He had said many self-important things today, even shameful things, and now he seemed to hear all of them again as if for the first time. The hatred behind those utterances felt childish and petty. For the first time, he saw past Prince Chagum's aloof facade and perceived a boy of about his own age underneath.

    He stared at Chagum for a short while longer, then replied, "Neither do I." He bowed again and turned away.

    He stopped short of joining his comrades to ask, "Prince Chagum, are you acquainted with any forms of martial arts?"

    Chagum's eyes gleamed brightly at the question. Prince Tarsan's perception of him instantly changed. "That's something we should talk about, I think...if we get a chance to, during the celebration."

    Tarsan bowed crisply—and sincerely—once more, then moved to line up with his comrades.

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