Empire's Son: An Epic Science Fiction Novel Series

Markus was not pleased to see Pledge Gunther as one of Adar’s protection team today. He and Gayle had flagged Gunther as a potential threat, because Hame had sponsored the man to the College. Gayle had tried to get the word to the right people to get Gunther pulled, but it looked like she had failed, or something more nefarious was going on. Markus automatically assumed the worst––it made things simpler that way, and you were never surprised when it happened.

Gunther’s presence also may very well make what had to happen today harder, or easier, it really depended on Gunther. It certainly threw in an unknown that Markus hadn’t expected, but expecting the unexpected kind of came with the territory. He’d adjust, but he could tell by the sour face Gayle was sporting as he stepped up next to her that she wasn’t happy about the complication.

“He’s going to be a problem,” Gayle said softly, so that only Markus could hear.

“Maybe. Maybe not. We still go with the plan.” Markus said as he leaned back against the courtyard wall to match Gayle’s leisurely pose.

She had come to the quat-lo courtyard a full five minutes before him. They had planned it so it wouldn’t look like they showed up together, not that Markus thought anyone was paying attention to them. Everyone was too busy watching the Heir to the Empire to notice what anyone else might be doing, or maybe some, like he and Gayle, were keeping a watchful eye for another possible attack. So maybe there were a few paying enough attention to pick up on who came and went. Better to be safe, and plan for the all possibilities.

“It won’t work if the wrong people know about it, Markus. And by the way, I still think this is a bad plan. What makes you even think it will work, or that the Heir will agree to it?”

“Because no one ever pays attention to the obvious, and it has to work, we need time to figure out all the parties involved in the attack and make sure there won’t be more.”

Gayle snorted. “You aren’t asking for much, are you? If this does work out like you are planning, I think I deserve an extra big favor from you.”

Markus gave her a side eye. “It’s a little late for negotiations.”

“I can still walk off, you know.”

Markus sighed. “Fine, I will owe you two big favors, but that means you get comfortable with my plan even if you don’t like it. I can’t have you second guessing me every step of the way.”

“Deal,” the other Pledge said with a satisfied smirk.

Markus shook his head at her tenacity. Much more of this and he’d be owing her a first born. During the entire exchange with Gayle, Markus’s attention had been roaming the courtyard.

First, he’d swept the trainees that had quickly filed in after Adar had entered and filled up the wall spaces. There was even a group hovering near the mouth of the entry archway that Markus looked over carefully. Once satisfied he’d memorized every face, he turned his attention back to the three sparring pairs left in the center.

All eyes were locked on the fighters, especially Adar. He seemed entranced by the moving bodies like this was the first time he’d seen a quat-lo fight. And perhaps it was, Markus doubted Aragon had taught anyone else the discipline. It would have only been Adar and Aragon sparring against each other.

Markus then turned his attention to Master Meh-len. He stood in his usual spot, about ten steps from the wall, ramrod straight, and watching the fighting with his calculating eyes as he took in every movement, every stumble, and every mistake. And as usual, there was bare wall directly behind him and a few feet to each side of the Master.

Everyone knew better than to stand anywhere near Master Meh-len. He had a nasty habit of surprising people with sudden attacks or jabs. He claimed that it was vital for a Protector to always be on his guard, even when he wasn’t supposed to be on duty. There was no rest, no breaks, no downtime for a true Protector. He had to always be ready for an attack, anytime, anywhere.

Markus remembered his first class with Master Meh-len well. He hadn’t been stupid enough to lounge against the walls near the Master when waiting to take turns doing forms in the courtyard, but a few unfortunate new Cadets had. They became quick examples to the rest of the class of what not to do. Master Meh-len spared no mercy, even for those taking his class for the very first time. Those poor souls had needed nearly a week of Remaker time to get over that particular lesson.

And that pretty much summed up Markus’s entire experience with Master Meh-len. He had endured more than a few nasty encounters with the Master during his training. While many of the trainees thought Master Meh-len’s approach extreme and that he took it too far, Markus had embraced it.

He had taken it as a challenge to do better, so he didn’t end up like many of the others laid up for days or a week or more. Sure, he had several injuries, a few quite serious, through his years of quat-lo training, but far fewer than many of the others.

Markus’s secret had been extra training on the side as often as he could with anyone who would spar with him. He also worked on letting go of his fear of getting injured, which he discovered led to significantly reduced injuries not just in his quat-lo trainings, but in all of his physical education at the College and beyond.

He thanked Aragon for that one. It was one of the things he remembered the Protector saying many times during Markus’s childhood. Aragon had been a fountain of knowledge and stories for Markus as the Protector had been a constant presence in River Palace as first bonded to Markus’s father, and then later to Adar. But Aragon had also given a dotting King’s son who saw the Protector as a strong person to be looked up to and admired, attention as his duties allowed. So when Aragon Remeer had said something, Markus had listened.

Certainly, a boy didn’t understand or appreciate much of what was said, not until much later, after the Protector was long gone and the boy had become an adult himself. But when Markus had enrolled in the College and saw first hand what it really meant to be a Protector, he also suddenly understood a lot of what the man he had once looked up to had been trying to tell him.

Markus’s perseverance had eventually earned him some of the highest marks available in quat-lo, and something even more rare, Master Meh-len’s grudging respect. By the time he had left the College two years ago, Markus was as close to a quat-lo master as he could get without actually spending the required time and testing to get the title. But then Markus didn’t care much about titles, if he did, he would have never enrolled in the College in the first place.

He watched as Meh-len mostly dismissed Adar’s presence, which wasn’t a surprise at all. Markus could imagine Adar would get no quarter from the Quat-lo Master. No one else ever did.

Eventually, the sparring matches came to the end and Master Meh-len finally addressed the Prince in his usual brusk manner. “Highness, are you ready for your assessment?”

All the sparring partners were gone, melting into positions against the walls. Normally, after matches, Meh-len would call each person up to stand in front of him, and then he would go into great detail of all the things the person had done wrong in the fight, and making sure everyone gathered in the courtyard could hear all of it. But today, Meh-len had bypassed that and had gone right to the thing everyone gathered in the courtyard had come to witness. A far more scathing censure.

Markus felt sympathy for Adar. He doubted anyone warned him of what was to come. Though to be fair, many probably didn’t know how bad this was going to get. Markus had his suspicions of how this was going to play out, because he’d spent more time than most under Meh-len’s tutelage. He knew how the man thought, and he absolutely would not be welcoming to a person who had learned quat-lo illegally.

Before Adar could step toward Meh-len, Master Kiev stopped the Prince to say something to him. The Master’s face seemed concerned as he spoke quite urgently. Adar reached out to pat Master Kiev on the shoulder and said something in reply to the other man. He then took off his long coat, which Kiev took.

“Highness, it would be nice if you didn’t keep us waiting,” Meh-len’s call echoed throughout the entire courtyard.

Adar patted Kiev one more time, and then he moved toward the center of the courtyard with a purposeful stroll. His face gave nothing away, but Markus could see the stiffness in the man’s walk just the same. He was nervous, as he should be. He stopped a few feet in front of Master Meh-len, and then gave the man a bow.

Meh-len hadn’t been expecting that. He looked a little startled. It wasn’t everyday someone from the Imperial Family bowed to you, even if it was the appropriate gesture to make to a Master Teacher in his own training arena. Markus smiled. He was glad Adar had been paying attention to what the sparring partners had done after each of their fights. Maybe his old friend would fare better than he thought.

There was a collection of gasps from around the wall punctuating the unusualness of the Prince’s actions. Adar straightened from his bow as if he had no clue what he’d just done. He simply stood there patiently waiting for the Master’s response.

“You understand why you are here?” Meh-len asked as he moved his hands back behind him and assumed his usual observer mode.

“To be assessed in my quat-lo skill,” the Prince replied.

Markus cringed. “And here it goes,” he said out loud to no one in particular.

A strangled noise came from the Master’s throat like he might be choking on something, and then he spoke loud enough to make sure his voice echoed through the courtyard once again.

“Correction. You are here to make sure you are not a danger to yourself or others because you were illegally taught a discipline you should not know.”

Markus was watching the responses of the trainees. Many of them stiffened at the Master’s words. Some nodded their heads in agreement. And still others looked angry.

He then turned his attention back to the center of the courtyard and Adar. The young man managed to keep a straight face––mostly. There was a moment of anger in his expression, but he quickly overcame it and schooled his face. When he spoke, the Prince’s voice was strong, and held no emotion at all.

“So are you angry with me or Aragon? Because you do realize I didn’t know what he was teaching me at the time. He just told me that he was helping me learn something that might save my life, and it just so happened, it did.”

Markus snorted. Nice try, but that wasn’t going to sway the Quat-lo Master. And sure enough, Markus watched as Meh-len’s face screwed up in a dour expression.

“There is a reason this is only taught to Protectors, which you are not.”

There was a muttering that went through the trainees that were lining the walls. Many of them looking angry themselves. Yavit. Meh-len was doing exactly what Markus hoped he wouldn’t do. He was stoking the unease of those gathered. Gayle had said that this was one of the underlying currents running against Adar. It was bad enough that the Prince had disgraced a Renowned Protector, but that he also knew something only a Protector should know was almost intolerable to some at the College.

Adar seemed thoughtful for a moment before he responded. “No, I am not, but I have great respect for those who are. Protectors train very hard and spend what lives they have dedicated to another, many even dying for that other. I would never presume to consider myself equal to that. Nor would I wish to make light of this discipline that I learned in ignorance, and I would only use it in extreme circumstances, I assure you Master Meh-len.”

Markus watched a few of those gathered nod their heads like they appreciated what the Prince had said. Many more still scowled.

“Words do not hold as much sway as actions, Highness. If you truly felt that way, you would allow Master Kiev to lock that knowledge away once more.” Master Meh-len replied.

And there is was. The thing Markus was afraid he’d say. Others around the wall cried their agreement. And Adar’s face paled. It took a long moment before his old friend to answer, and the anger loud and clear in his tone this time.

“Well, considering all the enemies that I have, and that I’ve been attacked three times since I got on Admiral Vang’s ship to come back to Ethia, not to mention the attack a few nights ago, I think I will keep things as they are for now.”

Master Meh-len glared back at the Prince and Adar met it. For a long moment, the two of them stood there as if they would win the arguments by their wills alone. Eventually, Master Meh-len smiled like he knew something no one else in the courtyard knew.

He then waved a hand toward Adar. “Then let’s see how good you really are, Highness. Begin with the basic forms. Start slow so I can see how much he messed up.”

Adar gave the Master a curt nod, and then he sank into the posture for the very first form that anyone in quat-lo learned––often just called first position or grounding start, which was a wide legged stance with hands in prayer position. This was the position that all others stemmed from, even though it wasn’t actually part of a quat-lo fight.

As Master Meh-len was so very fond of saying in just about every class Markus ever attended, “You cannot fight if you do not know yourself, or know the energy in which you carry.” The first position was the time to do just that.

From grounding start, Adar flowed right into the first set, and the wall watchers seemed pacified for now as they settled back down to witness the Prince’s assessment, and Markus was sure each of them thought they’d be spectators of a glorious failure. Markus was under no such delusions.

It might have been twenty years since he’d last seen Aragon, but Markus remembered he wasn’t a man who did things in half measures, especially in his duty of protection. If he thought Adar needed the extra protection of actually knowing quat-lo for himself, Aragon would have done everything in his power to do it the right way. He would have drilled Adar until he knew the forms backwards and forwards, and he certainly wouldn’t have been gentle about it either.

Adar hadn’t even gotten through his first set and Markus knew he had been correct in his assessment. The Prince executed each of his moves flawlessly. They were slowed down, so each movement could be clearly seen, but it was clear that Aragon had spent a great deal of time making sure Adar got his movements right.

It was also clear by the small downturn on Master Meh-len’s otherwise stoic face as Adar finished up his third set that he wasn’t happy that Adar knew the forms so well. Markus supposed that Meh-len had been expecting to dress down the Prince for learning it all wrong, because if there was one thing worse than someone outside the Protectorate Program learning quat-lo, it was someone without a certified Quat-lo Mastership teaching it. Markus had to suppress a chuckle.

A soft laugh came from beside him. “Master Meh-len has always been hard to read, but I’m certainly not having any trouble right now. I’ll give you three guesses to what he’s thinking about?”

Markus grinned at Gayle. “He’s hungry for lunch?”

Gayle snorted. “Oh, he’s hungry for something alright. It’s probably a good thing Remeer isn’t here right now. He wouldn’t just have the Emperor’s wrath to worry about.”

Markus watched Adar move into his fourth set and a worry started to gnaw at him. “You don’t think he’ll take it out on Adar, do you?”

Gayle paused a long moment before speaking. “He’s closing himself again. I’m only getting a trickle, but he’s definitely upset, like really upset, and it’s not just that the Heir is doing so well in his forms. It’s actually a little disturbing. I’ve always known Master Meh-len to be harsh, but what I’m getting from him…” she trailed off and got that distant look on her face when she was concentrating really hard on reading someone.

“Yavit,” she cursed as her face drained of all color.

“What’s wrong?” Markus asked.

But she didn’t respond as she stared at Meh-len in disbelief. “We have to stop him.”

Even as she said the words, Master Meh-len was already in motion. One minute he was in his usual stance standing straight and tall with hands behind his back and eyes the only part of him that seemed to move. Then he was fast walking toward Adar, sinking into his knees, swinging his arms up and around, and pushing forward with the flat of his right palm, aiming the Hand of Death right for Adar’s chest.