Before the first rays of sunlight poked through the gaps in the curtains, Careth had already awoke and was washing up in the bathroom. He didn't get much sleep, with best two hours, and was worried that the people roaming around the house would notice.
The red of his eyes was his top concern. His eyelids were swollen, weighing down and heavy like lead, which made him seem like he was half-asleep and half-awake. Strands of walnut brown hair licked at his face as Careth splashed himself with cool water, stimulating his senses that were numb due to the emotional outburst he had experienced previously. When he finally had the strength to look at the mirror, he was greeted by a haggard, pale boy that seemed to have overdosed himself on illegal substances that should stay out of reach of children.
"This is terrible. And I have combat training first thing in the morning," he groaned, sitting on the toilet. "I didn't finish my pre-class activities for business studies today either, and I haven't inform the Town Services of the tax..."
Careth trailed off as drowsiness kicked in and his head dropped to the side. For few peaceful moments, his breaths were soft and calming, with no tense hitches or exaggerated exhales. Careth's mouth parted as the breath whistled out, then drew in again, as tender and gentle as blowing a bubble.
But it didn't take long for his autonomic system to revive and cut him from his rest, rebooting his senses. Careth snapped awake and massaged his temples, uttering, "I'm dead in two weeks. But if I don't get ready, I'm dead in twenty minutes."
—
"Up! Up I say!"
Careth grunted weakly as he forced himself up, his arms shaking under his own weight. The chief was looming before him, a burly, towering man clutching a battered wooden sword that has seen only too many failures. Stubble ran down from his angular jaw to his chin, forming a black to grey gradient that matched his hair. His crew-cut style was as sharp as his words, and today, it was far more fatal.
"You're performing exceptionally poor today. What is up with you? Even the last time you were sick you could still defend at least two of my blows!" The chief scolded, striking his training sword on the ground like a cane. "Stand up! Or do you want to just let your enemies defeat you?"
Careth bit his lip, subduing the anger that was surfacing dangerously. As he regained balance, the chief tossed him the training sword that had flung out of his grasps earlier on. He pointed the blunt blade towards the boy, and so did Careth to him; a formality before the duel engages.
Chief Daughberg started and sliced upwards, and in that small window he used his elbow to knock Careth back. The boy staggered, barely ducking out of the way as his trainer slashed horizontally, grazing his hair. Careth kicked him in the abdomen, utilizing the knockback to distance himself and gripped on his sword tensely.
'I always gave my best.'
He dashed to the side as his mentor's sword came bashing down, hitting the floor with a solid thuck! that reverberated throughout the dueling hall.
'I only gave my best.'
He sprinted and stepped lightly on the thigh of his chief, boosting himself to get onto his back.
'And now it's all backfired upon me.'
Careth trapped the chief's neck around the sword, pressing the wood against his throat tightly—menacingly.
'It's not fair.'
"Y-Young Master! Hold! Hold!"
It's not fair!
"Willdyer!" The chief arched forward and sent Careth flying to the front. The heir landed unceremoniously on the floor, grunting in pain as his shoulder throbbed.
"You... what's gotten into you?!" He hollered, rubbing the sore spot on his neck. "Just now you were lacking any sort of energy, and then you managed to try me into a lock! Ha! I don't know whether I should be mad or glad!"
Careth got up, holding his injured arm and said indignantly, "I'm hurt. Can we stop now? Or are you willing to take the blame when I'm unable to do my tasks properly?"
The chief's eyes glinted viciously as he uttered, "You've got some attitude today. But I'll oversee it as you managed to surprise me, which is extraordinary coming from you."
—
Nothing much went on in the nurse's office as the young master always knew how to take care of himself. The spacious area was quite deserted, with two single beds lining the giant glass windowpane where the morning sun streamed in. Medicinal supplies and tools stacked on the shelf behind a work table, where the owner sat in between neatly organized files and papers.
Nurse Rosetta was writing entries in her log book—not for the family, but for the town. As her services in the manor were scarcely needed, Master Willdyer had permitted her to extend her abilities to helping the town as per the family's role; giving only the best for Hiraeth.
So it was uncommon for her to see the son stroll in, grabbing onto his shoulder and grumble, "I think I need this checked."
She walked quickly with concern. "Oh, dear! That's one nasty bruise," she said, examining the blue-black spot. "Was it training with the chief? I can't believe he's always this harsh... luckily it isn't dislocated."
The nurse went to the back of the room, opening a cabinet that was filled with medications and drugs and took out a small container. "You'll have to put this on once per day. Preferably after your morning training. And I'll send a note to the master on your injury, so he can inform Mr. Daughberg on his actions. Really, that man has no self-control—"
But Careth wasn't listening. His eyes were focused on the cabinet, trying to read the labels on each of the remedies. When he found what he was looking for, he said hurriedly, "I think I'll do it myself. Can I have some privacy?"
The nurse raised an eyebrow, surprised at his sudden need of seclusion. She had been tending to the few wounds he had ever since he was a toddler, and thought that the heir was fine with it.
"Of course. I'll just be outside. Knock when you're done."
As soon as she stepped outside and closed the door, Careth bounced from the bed and headed for the open glass cabinet. He tip-toed and grabbed the ointment, before proceeding to apply the medication given by the nurse. He stuffed the small bottle in his pocket, then knocked twice on the oak door.
—
The clock had just struck six when Merry arrived in Careth's room, still plastering on the bright and innocent smile meant to ward off suspicion from the servants. When her eyes fell upon him, she dropped the facade and rushed towards his figure that sat slouching at the dressing table.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, and caught the ointment that Careth tossed at her instinctively.
"For your swelling. It'll reduce it," he explained, monotonous and calm.
"Oh, thank you, Careth."
"Merry," Careth said, turning to her with a placid expression. "I'm deciding to run away."
There was no other way, and both of them knew that. A Talent isn't something that would come awake overnight; it's either in your blood or it's not. And with such limited amount of time left, Careth was not going to take any chances.
"I'll help you," she reassured, gripping the ointment. "What have you thought of so far?"
"I'm going to see Rian."
She thought she heard wrong. "What?"
Careth stood up, heading for the door. "I'm meeting with him. I have a deal to offer to him."
Merry hastily grabbed onto his shoulder, which made him flinch slightly. "What sort of deal? You know he's out for your life...what if he just kills you there and then?"
He took her hand off gently and grinned weakly, "I have to try. It's that or nothing."
—
"My, do you want to die so badly?"
If it weren't for his pride, Careth would've loved to punch this irritating teenager in the face. Or, have him in a headlock.
"I'm here to make a deal with you," Careth announced, striding into the room. Merry followed behind, ignoring the knowing gaze casted on her.
Rian grabbed a chair and sat, resting his hands on the backrest. "A deal? What could you possibly want from me?"
Careth released a breath and spoke. "Your Talent. You said you're Blessed, right? Help me escape from this place, and you'll be up there reigning over Hiraeth in no time."
The young man simpered. "And what makes you think I'll help you?"
Careth mirrored his smile. "You have something at stake too."
At this, Rian bit back his words. Careth noticed the change in expression and went on, "There were only two weeks left, yet you told me about the Tradition. Which means you want to get up there as quick as possible. For what reason, I don't want to know." He bent so they were eye to eye. "But if you help me, I'll make sure you get your throne before my death day. How does that sound?"
Though he looked inscrutable, Careth knew that Rian was analyzing his decisions. His coal pupils darted around, thinking, and it was the first time Careth saw him with his guard down. Finally, he smirked. "You're real clever. Deal."
Careth's racing heart finally tamed as he took a step back, crossing his arms. "Let's start off with your abilities. What can you do? I think it has something to do with that?" He gestured towards the vision window.
Rian shook his head. He snapped his fingers, and instantly the room was filled with high pitch ringing, a tinnitus that pierced through Careth and Merry's ear like sharp steel. When they cowered in pain, Rian disabled the commotion and tried to stifle his laugh as the children recovered from the sudden torture.
"Sorry. Haven't tried it on people since a long time, but that's what I do. I can manipulate sound." He concentrated again, but this time it was mellow music, of string instruments and percussions. The harmony lingered in the air before he clapped, and silence resumed. "I control the frequencies, amplitudes and wavelengths. But only for sound waves—light waves aren't my forte."
Normally Careth would be unimpressed, especially after being a victim of his jokes, but he couldn't stop himself from being amazed. The ability to control sound meant wonders; not only could he produce melodies and noise, but he also has the power to shape energy. Energy and sound are closely related, but upon witnessing Rian's character, he probably hasn't figured that out yet.
"That's really useful," he admitted, and Rian bowed. "We'll come up with a plan and let you know after. Right now, please excuse us."
Careth and Merry exited, but before they pulled on the lever for the trapdoor, Rian called out to them.
"Nulla nobis, dear friend."
Merry looked to the side shamefully, the events from a few hours ago replaying in her mind.
—
"Do you know what our family motto means?"
Merry knitted her eyebrows. "Don't change the topic. I'm asking you what is your goal, Rian Willdyer!"
"It means, 'none are on our side'."
She drew back, gaping at him, and all of a sudden guilt and humiliation washed over her, breaking the dam she had tried so hard to maintain for all these years. Her hands trembled as she stammered, "You... you-"
"So I'm not telling you what it is I'm going to do," Rian said, but this time his words were dripping with menace. "because you're not family, and you definitely won't understand anything."