Despite their love for their ruler, there was no hopeful face in the crowd. Everyone merely stood there, and waited for the blow to come. King Huang IV was a good king, a wise man who had ruled the country of Tzorke for twenty long years. And in this reign, they had prospered beyond belief. After a prolonged and painful war, which had left behind nothing but destruction and death, the King's rule had been a change they had all welcomed. But he had been old even then, and now he was dying. Everyone knew this, and had gathered outside his castle, not out of hope, but out of respect.

The doors of the balcony banged open. The low murmurs died out immediately, and the sound of the wind moving through the tall trees could be heard. The silence of the crowd was so profound that they could hear the footsteps of the Commander echoing all around the castle as he walked out. Commander Ajibana came into view, but for once, there was no audible mooning over his genuinely good looks from the younger generations of the crowd and young age from the older generations. A few members of the latter had tears running down their cheeks. They had seen the rise of probably the greatest King of Tzorke, watching him mature from the young, fiery warrior with high principles and ideals he had been, to the wise old man with time to listen to everyone�s problems that he had become.

And now they would watch as he gave up the ghost.

Commander Ajibana looked deeply dejected. Ambitious and eccentric as he was, he had a deep respect for his king. His smooth fair face looked stricken, and the younger crowd, who were not quite so grief-stricken about the King�s passing, felt sorrowful for him. He opened his mouth to speak, and then paused, as someone in the front burst into tears. He looked close to tears himself as he watched the old woman being comforted by her young daughter, giving her a moment to calm down. Once her sobs had subsided, he opened his mouth yet again. His young, yet deep voice, echoed around the walls of the fort, as he spoke.

�Citizens of Tzorke, your King has passed away.�

It was not as though the people had not known this was going to happen. But Ajibana�s words were a final twist of the dagger in their hearts. A great many people burst into tears. Some found it difficult to stand, and so knelt down. They had all loved and respected their leader. He, in turn, had loved and respected them, guiding them, and leading them through a reign of peace and prosperity. His son, Baiko, was too young to take over. No one expected the five-year-old child to rule the Kingdom. Although Baiko was the king in name and heritage, the true ruler of Tzorke would now be Ajibana. And as much as Commander Ajibana was liked, it was well known how ambitious he was. While he would make sure that their country would prosper, with him in command, it was not very likely that the walls of peace that King Huang IV had so carefully built would remain standing.

Ajibana stood on the balcony and watched as pandemonium ensued, making no effort to stop it. He really was young, just fourteen years older than the young king. He, too, knew the power that was now at his disposal. It was something he had craved ever since he was a child. He craved the feeling of being in charge, of leading and commanding. Maybe this was too ambitious and maybe this would cause his downfall. But not before he had taken Tzorke to great heights.

He turned and beckoned to a severe looking woman standing at the door of the balcony. She walked up to him, and listened with a steady expression as he whispered something in her ear. If she felt sorrow, it was hidden deep within her. She nodded as he finished speaking, and walked into palace, leaving Ajibana alone on the balcony again. He watched her go, and then turned to the crowd.

Ajibana raised his hand, and waited for silence. �Citizens of Tzorke,� he began, in his commanding voice. �This is a shocking tragedy. We all knew it was going to happen, yes, but what we did not know was how deeply it would touch us. King Huang IV was a very great king. But more than that, he was great man,� Ajibana paused. �A wonderful and wise man, who lead us through wonderful times. A man who has now left us.�

Ajibana�s voice echoed through the palace corridors as the woman he had spoken to earlier walked swiftly down the steps. She did not pause, and she did not seem to think, yet everything she did was planned, and everything she did had a purpose. She was tall, and her each step exuded confidence. As she reached a guard at the palace gate, she slowed down. Stopping, she looked at him, and nodded at his questioning look. �Yes,� she said, as the guard�s look changed to one of understanding, �it�s time.�

When she got back up, Ajibana was still speaking.

�� but I will do my very best to take this country to even greater heights,� he concluded.

The crowd cheered, and Ajibana, nodding solemnly, his eyes flickering once towards the solitary rider whose black horse was a dark speck on the duller landscape, galloping away westwards.

With a final bow to the crowd, which was now in higher spirits than before, he turned and walked in. The balcony doors shut, and Ajibana sighed. There was no denying that the newly crowned King was young, and he made no effort to hide the fact that for at least another ten years, he was going to be in control. He had waited for the day that his king would pass away, and it did not grieve him much. The King had been old and senile when he had ascended the throne, twenty years ago, after the last war, and had ruled the kingdom of Tzorke with wisdom, and what not. But in Ajibana�s opinion, he was soft, weak and more of an intellectual than a leader.

But now that the time he had waited for, for ever so long, was here, his satisfaction seemed diluted. He felt very strange. For the first time in four years, there was no one who would guide him and tell him what to do. Don�t be a fool, Ajibana, he told himself sternly. This wouldn�t do. The time to act was now. The armies were in position. Tomorrow the war would begin. And since the King had died a week before Ajibana had expected him to, in less than two weeks, the war would also be over. His plan was in motion. The fire had been lit up. It would spread, and now, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

And why would you want to, Ajibana? he questioned himself. Why, after so many years of waiting and working? Why these doubts?

But was it worth it?

A hand on his shoulder made him turn around. The slightly older woman stood there, an expression of calm collectedness on her face.

Of course it was.

�Oh, Kumiko,� he said, taking her hand as his voice broke slightly. His face showed a vulnerability that would have surprised the crowd outside. Kumiko squeezed his hand. �It�s really happening now.� In his voice was a sort of stunned surprise, as though he had not expected it to really happen.

�Yes,� said Kumiko, and in that one word was all the doubt he felt, and sorrow of a different origin. �It really is.�

The window was tantalizingly open, to let in fresh air, supposedly to make Kojishi feel better. Her mother had ushered her inside, forced her to lie down and breathe deeply, while she went and got the high priest. Since it was quite early, the Morning Prayer was just underway, and it turned out that the princess would have to wait till the High Priest of Lajandra was free. This suited the princess just fine, thank you very much. She was not fond of the old man, his wise eyes and his way of looking at her, which made her feel quite insecure, as though he could see into her mind.

After a while, though, it got most annoying, having to stay in the room and do nothing, rest and attempt to get better. This was a healing process, which generally worked quite effectively. Only at present, there was absolutely nothing wrong with Kojishi, aside from utter boredom and occasional bouts of impatience, in which it was all she could do to keep herself from throwing herself out of the window.

There was a knock on the door, and Kojishi looked up. �Yes?�

�It�s Kin,� said a soft, firm voice outside, and Kojishi nodded wearily, quite sure that her brother was here to perform the task of being brotherly impeccably by being as annoying as he could, by laughing at her boredom, and by making a general arse out of himself.

�Enter,� said the princess, restraining herself from adding, �idiot�. Lack of sleep and general boredom had made the generally agreeable princess a little grouchy. Of course, �generally agreeable� and �a little grouchy� are both polite modifications of the truth.

Kin came in, looking most amused by all of this. �Good morning,� he said, innocently, and Kojishi narrowed her eyes, already annoyed. �You seem somewhat bored.�

Another polite modification of the truth.

�Go away,� said the princess, grouchily.

�What, and leave you here all alone?� said Kin, eyes sparkling with suppressed mirth. �When you are ever so sick? I wouldn�t dream of it.�

Kojishi made a face at him, all camaraderie and lovingness and what not of the previous night completely irrelevant.

�That�s not attractive, dear,� said Kin, shaking his head at her, and then let out a hoot of laughter as she threw a pillow at him. He could not have caught it if his life depended on it. Of course, since this was Kojishi throwing the pillow at him, it landed a yard away and he did not truly need to try. �Ooh, temper temper.�

Kojishi�s aggravation made it all the more amusing, and his hoot turned into a full fledged guffaw. The princess, incensed, threw the other pillow at him, missing once more, and then a vase, and a comb, and a really beautifully carved pitcher of water, which flew towards the door instead of at Kin, just as the door opened and the High Priest walked in.

�Ack!� stated the High Priest, and ducked, so the pitched smashed into the wall of the corridor, drenching Yume, who was, frankly, not too astonished, and shocking the Queen.

�Oh dear,� said Kin, and left the room before his mother could recover, clutching his side with helpless laughter as soon as he was out of hearing range.

Kojishi stared in horror, mouth open, before she sat down upon a non existent chair, and landed on the ground, with an �ooph!�

�Kojishi!!� her mother began, and the princess closed her eyes preparing herself for the inevitable onslaught of her mother�s reprimanding words. They did not come, and the princess, after a moment of waiting, generously giving her mother the credit and thinking she was too overcome with having been nearly killed by a water pitcher, opened her eyes, and gaped. The High Priest had raised his hand to prevent the queen from saying anything, but what surprised Kojishi more was that her mother had actually shut her mouth.

�Mother,� Kojishi began, unsure of what she was about to say, but the High Priest raised his hand and silence her as well.

After a long moment, the old man spoke. �I must have time alone with the princess,� was all he said. His soft voice sounded like the rustle of the parchment of an ancient book. Something about the way he spoke, soft though it was, made everyone do exactly what they were meant to do, without truly having to be told. Kojishi watched in some surprise, as her mother bowed, and swept out of the room, her head being held high as a promise of her having her say on this once the priest was done. Rather hopefully, Kojishi looked at the priest, wondering if he could stop the scolding she would inevitably receive too� but it did not seem to be of much concern to him, really. Yume shook her head and went in the opposite direction, with the obvious and rather justified motive of wanting to change her clothes, which were dripping with water.

Idiot, Kin, thought Kojishi, grumpiness returning.

�Do not blame your brother for his,� said the ancient voice, and Kojishi was startled. �You, too, need to control your anger.�

The princess swallowed apprehensively, looking at the priest who had not even actually looked at her.

�Since there is nothing wrong with you, Princess,� he continued, �will you walk with me?� The old man turned, and in the morning light, his silver hair gleamed like something unfathomable. �And I shall, in turn,� he was making it sound as though it would be her doing him a favour, by walking with him, �tell you a little something.�

Kojishi nodded, feeling oddly as though she was not truly being given a choice, and stood up, following he wizened man out of the room.

No one would observing him from a distance could have imagined him to be the commander of the Imperial Forces of Tzorke. It seemed a practical impossibility, the mere idea of the young, barely adult boy that Ajibana looked like being anything more than a common soldier. His face was smooth, disturbingly pale, in which his eyes, deep set and dark as the night, stood out. He was barely over twenty winters old, and yet, he stood before old, wise, wrinkled men of the court, glaring at them confidently, silencing them all with a mere look. It was preposterous, in a word. Most unheard of.

Perhaps because it was so completely unusual, it was powerful, gripping. The sight of a young face at the head of the courtroom table moved a certain tingling fear in the people who watched. And Ajibana knew this. He knew better than anyone else in the room that the status his status was unusual, that he was far too young, and that as far everyone else was concerned, he himself was unnatural. Eccentric, if you will. All the arguments the old ministers of Tzorke had put forth to the dying King, insisting that he put someone more experienced in command, rang in Ajibana�s ears. Instead of discouraging him, they worked well as motivation. They were evidence of the power he held in the courtroom, and it was mainly because of everyone�s insistence that he should not be at heading the kingdom, and because he was heading the kingdom despite that, that he could stand tall, dark eyes burning into every old face that looked at him with mingled skepticism and contempt.

They fear me, thought Ajibana, his face not showing the amusement and the thrill that he felt as he realized that the doubt and distrust was all a masquerade, hiding the fear. Fear of him, of what he could do. Fear, which gave him the ability to do what they believed he could.

Ha! he thought, but did not voice the embarrassingly immature thought.

The High Priest and the princess walked together, the young, smooth face beside the old, gnarled one, long strands of silvery white and night-like black trailing after them in the gentle, early morning breeze. Several heads turned, the contrast striking each of them. Those who were close enough to notice were stunned by the singular similarity; their eyes, both pairs equally alive. Both sparkled, both shone. There was within them an energy that remained common to them despite the difference in their years. It was dizzying to anyone who was observant enough to see it.

In his voice like the rustling of ancient trees in the wind, the old man talked. He talked of many things, common things, uncommon things, like the day, the night, birth and death, sorrow and happiness... needless to say, Kojishi soon shut out his voice and began to think of how utterly foolish she had been to believe that staying behind for a day would make things easier. This was not easy. The princess, spontaneous and somewhat spoilt, was itching to scream and run off alone, never be found again, never be bothered by old priests, horrible guards, stupid mothers... the thought, in fact, was so tempting, that the princes found herself staring longingly at every passing window, as they walked, slowly, through the corridors of the octagon palace.

In Kojishi�s eyes, the priest was old and wrinkles and she did not need to listen to the knowledge of the ages gone by, which, like the priest, seemed quite worn out to her. But the old priest spoke on, seemingly unbothered by the display of nonchalance from the young princess. Adopting quite a similar approach of indifference, he droned on, and Kojishi, aside from a couple of words here and there, simply could not care less.

Finally, however, he said something that grasped Kojishi�s attention quite effectively.

�You must remember when you are no longer a princess...�

Kojishi snapped out of her reverie. No longer a princess? �Why will I not be a princess?� she asked, but the priest, exasperatingly, ignored her.

�...that the country lies beyond the walls of this city. There are villages that lie at the very edges of the land, forests that people do not go into because they are afraid of the forest folk and places that no one knows of...�

This was even more intriguing. �What places?� demanded Kojishi, stopping to look at the priest. He, however, continued to walk, as though he had somewhere to be at the moment, more pressing matters at hand, and he could not be bothered by the princess. This, to Kojishi, was quite frustrating. How could someone not be bothered by her? She was the princess! Not realizing, of course, that this indifference, which frustrated her so much, was what she had been longing for not very long ago.

�Strange, hidden places,� the old man went on, his eyes sparkling in something that closely resembled triumph and amusement, as Kojishi ran to keep up with him. �Ancient places of magic and of healing.�

�Where?� said Kojishi, curiously, and this time the man stopped, looking at her closely.

�They�ll be found, princess,� he said, with an exasperating air of mystery, �when they need to be found.�

The princess did not follow this. It sounded uncannily like a story from books she was still addicted to, of magic and fantasy and ancient mysteries, and Kojishi did not know how to handle these things in real life. The eyes of the priest bored into her own, and she felt, not for the first time, that he was looking into her soul, reading thoughts no one had business reading. �And what does that mean?� she asked, loudly, deliberately.

To Kojishi�s annoyance, the priest looked very amused. �You�ll see,� he said, and began to walk again. �There are a lot of things you shall come to understand, princess.�

Kojishi frowned. �Old coot,� she muttered. �What does he know?�

Appallingly enough, he heard. �Quite a bit, dear princess,� he said, unconcerned by her disrespect, or by the shocked, ashamed look that spread over her face thereafter. �Quite a bit.�

Kin�s good mood followed him like the lingering smell of the rose garden did, even after he�d left it. It had done him good to awaken with a start, feel really depressed about the upcoming departure of his sister, only to find that his sister, the blessedly extraordinary lass, had delayed it by a day. The fact that she�d managed to get herself into trouble while doing so was just the cherry atop the cake. Kin loved his sister very much. But tradition called for all brothers to take pleasure in the discomfort of their sisters.

And Kin was a traditional sort of fellow.

Once more, he was walking. Invariably, in a far too little while, his manservant, who remained inconspicuously absent from his side at all times, would finally show up and tell him that he was wanted at the training yards, where the king�s most trusted and skillful officers would teach him the arts of war. Kin loathed his. He was not made for the martial arts. He handled a sword with graceful ease and delicacy, it was true... but so did every royal maid, who were all taught to defend themselves and the royal family to some extent at least. A good tradition, but it did nothing to make Kin feel good. His aim was preposterous. He always managed to get a black eye at the martial arts sessions. Kojishi reckoned he was being too hard on himself, but Kin knew the truth. That although he had everything Kojishi wanted, he was just as caged as she was.

It made him a sissy. But Kin had never wanted to be a warrior anyway. As he had said to Kojishi several times before, he would be quite happy being a suitably depressed poet, who wandered the countryside in blessed solitude, contemplating the mysteries of life or something.

His feet did the thinking for him, as he walked through the corridors of the palace, and then outside into the gardens, towards the stables, for Kin was quite lost in his thoughts. His father had tried so many times to make him stop thinking and start doing something... but Kin was a thinker, really. It was not his fault, and even the king felt sorry for him. It was in his nature to think, to philosophize. Not to fight, to rule.

�LET ME GO!!�

Kin blinked, coming back to the present world, and, in the process, stumbling over a jutting out bit of rock. �Argh,� he said, emphatically, and proceeded to hop around on a leg for a minute, trying to simply will the pain in his toe away. It did not work, though he calmed down a little, after which Kin began to look for the source of the disturbance that had caused this calamity on his foot.

�LET ME GO, YOU BIG GOON, THIS IS IMPORTANT!!�

Kin raised an eyebrow, and walked, limping slightly, towards the gates, outside which the sound seemed to be coming.

�You�re a ruffian, is all you are! Go on with you!�

�And you�re an overgrown, irritating old ba...�

�Ahem.�

The guard, who had been holding a skinny boy by the scruff of his neck, glanced upwards looking as though he was going to tell off the intruder for poking his nose, and then stopped, seeing who it was. �Oh!� was all he said, and let go of the skinny boy in his surprise.

To Kin�s surprise, the boy, who looked gaunt and hungry, as though he had not had a square meal for days, did not run away. Instead, he stared in what appeared to be utter bewilderment at the young prince. Something seemed to be going through his mind, but Kin, frankly, was not in the least interested as to why the pitiful, skinny boy was looking at him like he had seen a ghost. He was more interested in why the guard was manhandling the lad. �What is going on here, guard?�

�This here boy,� and he have the boy a push, which made the boy scowl and glare at the much larger man, �was trying to get in. Says he has something important to tell the royal family.�

�And you chose to push him around instead of asking him what he had to say, did you?� said Kin, coldly, looking at the large man with an expression so calm and so full of disapproval, that the man actually looked somewhat abashed.

�Well, you know the threats, your highness,� he began, but Kin narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to regard him with an even more frigid look.

�I don�t believe,� said the prince, in a terribly calm voice, which was much, much worse than him yelling, �that you did, for even a moment, stop to think that the enemy would hardly consider this hungry beggar boy,� � at this the boy turned to look at the prince with a slightly reproachful look, � �for a spy.�

�But...�

�Would you look at him?� demanded Kin. �He�s emaciated, poor lad. And you, so much larger than him, choose to push him around.�

�Your highness...�

�Silence. I assure you, my father shall hear about this.�

The guard, who was by now thoroughly ashamed of himself, hung his head. Kin beckoned rather imperiously to the boy, who walked to him looking distinctly aggrieved for some reason. The two of them turned and walked inwards, leaving the guard who would realize, only later, that he had been scolded in front of a skinny beggar by a sixteen year old boy. Prince or no, Kin was only a boy. It was, however, hard to forget this when put under the cold, piercing gaze that the prince could subject people to when desired.

�What,� asked Kin, in a tone much less frigid than the one he had used on the guard, once they were a little way off the gate, �were you doing here?� The boy did not answer. Kin turned to look at him, and again, caught the expression on his face that made him look as though he had seen the ghost of someone long gone. The prince raised an eyebrow, which seemed to snap the boy out of it.

�I have something important to tell the royal family,� he said hurriedly, and then went very red. �But you are royal family� so, well� yes.� With that most eloquent finish, the boy went silent, looking deeply moved. Apparently, he had been too involved in getting past the guard to really think about what he would say to the royal family.

�Well?� said Kin, after a long minute of waiting. �What is it?�

The boy looked as though he did not think the prince would believe him, opening and closing his mouth twice, before taking the plunge.

�It�s like this,� he began. �My sister and I saw people in the woods.�

This did not have the profoundly moving impact on the prince that the boy had been hoping for. Kin merely stood there and waited, expectantly, as though he was sure that there was more to come.

�Erm,� said the boy, and stopping, positively scarlet with awkwardness now.

Kin took pity on him. �What sort of people?� he asked, thinking that perhaps it would be easier for the boy to speak if he was answering questions.

�Big people...�

Or perhaps not.

�Big people?� said Kin, beginning to think that the guard had been right in wanting to shoo him off.

�Soldier type people,� said the boy, and finally, Kin realized what he was talking about. �And they could not have been ours, because ours do not really need to go out in the forest in the middle of a thunderstorm, and... but we went to the woods in the morning... there definitely were...� The boy trailed off, seeing, thankfully, that the prince had got it.

Kin felt cold. Sick with realization that the war he did not wish to fight was knocking on his door, threatening to break in even if he did not open up. �Thank you, boy... you shall be rewarded for this. Stay here, in the castle...�

�No,� said the boy, shaking his head, �I have a sister to take care of, and an old father... but thank you.�

Kin nodded and turning, walked swiftly back to the palace, leaving the boy behind, an expression of mingled satisfaction and wonder on his face.

Kazu watched the prince leave him, moving with a fluid, natural grace that reminded him very strongly of someone he had met just the day before. It was uncanny the semblance between the Prince of Lajandra and the common girl he had met yesterday, Kojishi. Quite uncanny. Kazu could have sworn that the eyes that had stared at him were Kojishi�s. And had Kazu stopped being in wonder, and started to think just a little, he would have realized who Kojishi was, and how stupid he was looking, just standing there staring blankly at the now deserted path. Fortunately, the latter realization dawned upon him in a moment, and shutting his open mouth, he turned abruptly and began to walk off, feeling distinctly satisfied with himself for being a Very Good Citizen.

It was not often that a pickpocket could say that proudly.

�My dear men,� he began, and his deep voice was like the firm hand of a horse trainer on his charge�s back, �the King has passed away, leaving me to take care of the Kingdom in his absence.�

And from there, Ajibana proceeded to outline what was going on. The shocked looks made it all the more rewarding. He felt like he was swimming through a large, endless ocean with thousands of skeptical spectators just waiting for him to lose to the battering waves. It made him all the more keen on getting to the other side, all the more eager to prove himself.

�For centuries, Tzorke has been battered by the surrounding lands,� he said, in that deep, remorseless voice. He spoke of defeat as though it did not matter, for, to be honest, it did not. �But that is a matter of the past. Gone are those days when every country with a long arm could merely extend it to grab a part of out land. Lamarke,� he stated, and a lot of heads bowed at that, and Ajibana felt a stab of genuine aggravation. �It was ours. By all rights, it is still ours.�

But the wars have been fought, Commander Ajibana, said the row of eyes that stared at him, and the bowed heads which did not dare to. They are over. They are stronger, and we cannot defeat them.

�Our soldiers are well trained and have been working very hard for the last few years,� pressed on Ajibana, reading the doubts, knowing them all for Lady Kumiko had put every argument before him, arguing, perhaps, not because she disagreed, but because she knew what sort of arguments the ministers could put forth. The Lady was a clever, insightful, resourceful woman, and Ajibana thanked whatever force was responsible for putting her by his side and not by the side of his enemies. �And they are placed such that defeat is impossible.�

A silence followed this declaration. The ministers, ten old, wise men, who had, in the last war, proven themselves able generals and thinkers, were all rather taken aback. The idea of defeat being impossible struck them as an unfeasibility in itself, but there was really nothing they could do. Five years ago, the king had first met Ajibana, at that time a mere boy, and had actually sought him out to ask him to join the Imperial Forces. Unusual, as always. Everything about Ajibana was unusual. Doing things the conventional way would not get Ajibana noticed and he knew it better than anyone else. His eccentricities were what had got him to the head of the table, and he meant to remain there for the next ten years, at least.

�We will get back Lamarke, gentlemen,� said Ajibana, calmly, �and we will get the rest of the lost Ymenia.� A startled cry echoed through the room, and Ajibana smirked inwards. �And a lot more, if things go according to plan...�

�If things ago according to plan?� repeated the oldest minister, for the first time interrupting Ajibana. �This is war we are talking about, Commander, not child�s play.�

Yes, the child�s play argument. �I am, of course, aware of that,� said Ajibana, calmly, blessing Kumiko who had taken him through this. He had argued the matter with her, and had ended up sounding more like a child than like anything else, and had learnt his lesson.

�And yet, you press on?�

�And yet, I do,� said Ajibana. �Do you have a relevant point, Minister?� he added, raising a condescending eyebrow, as though asking him, not unkindly, to shut up, for he did not know what he was talking about.

The Minister shut up, and the matter seemed to have come to a close.

Ajibana nodded. �Thank you, gentlemen, for your time,� he said, bowing very slightly, and leaving the room, taking big, confident strides. Once he had left, a babble broke out. But the babble, the dislike, the distrust, the doubt � it was all nothing to Ajibana, whom they were utterly powerless to stop.

�But Father...!�

�Kin,� came the firm reprimand, �we cannot go scavenging the woods for soldiers that a beggar boy thinks he saw during a storm!�

�What if he did see something, father?�

�It was dark, Kin! He could not have possibly seen anything!�

�There were lightning flashes, Father!�

�The lightning plays tricks on many, much wiser eyes, my son.�

�He said he checked in the morning!�

�I believe you,� said the King, in a placating tone, raising his hand to silence the agitated boy. �But it�s very unlikely...�

�Unlikely,� said Kin, keeping his voice calm, for he had learnt, mainly by observing Kojishi, that shouting resulted in absolutely nothing but a harsh reprimand, and perhaps an order to go to bed and stay there until the agitation had settled down a bit. �But not impossible.�

The King looked at his son, who stood before him, looking more earnest than ever before. He truly believed the beggar boy. Sighing, the elder man realized that it would take some time for the Prince to realize that a kingdom could not be run on the words and promises of beggars. �Kin...�

�Please, father,� said Kin, whose cold, sick horror had turned into quiet determination. �Send someone to check, or I shall go myself.�

His father sighed once more, and Kin felt a minute stab of alarm. Surely, his father would send someone. He really did not want to go into the forest alone to check for enemy soldiers, determined though he was to make sure someone did check. Thankfully, his father nodded in defeat. �I shall send a spy,� he said, and looked to his right at the principal advisor, Gushiken, who nodded, and standing, left the room.

Kin nodded, looking relieved. �Thank you, father.�

His father nodded, looking older than he had yesterday. Was it possible for anyone to have acquired wrinkles overnight? For, to Kin, it seemed that his father had more wrinkles today than he had yesterday. �Kin...� the man began, but was cut off by the door opening and Kojishi walking in purposefully.

�Father, I need to talk to you,� she said, before anyone could say anything.

The King�s eyes suddenly glinted with amusement and Kin was torn between feeling guilty about having taken the twinkle away, jealous that Kojishi had brought it back, and thankful that she had interrupted at a moment when he was sure the words coming forth form his father would have been reproofs for his behavior or perhaps orders to go and train or something.

�Yes, Kojishi?� said the King, in a tone that made it clear that he knew what was coming up and he found it most amusing. It was a sort of unwritten rule in the royal household. The Queen found the princess annoying and her brother amusing, while the King was tickled by Kojishi and aggravated by Kin. Somehow, the royal couple had decided that both of them were to be the both the good parent and the bad parent. It was a good rule, keeping things fairly sane in the royal family.

�Father,� said Kojishi, in a very clear voice, and Kin knew, by the pout and the determined gleam, what she was about to say, �I do not want to go to the Summer Palace.�

The King and Kin both hid their smiles, carefully avoiding each other�s gazes.

�I want to stay here,� proceeded Kojishi. �Why can�t I stay here?�

�Because, Kojishi,� said the King, after taking a moment to suppress his snort of amusement, �you can�t. I am sorry, but no. You will be more of a hindrance here, darling...�

�I can fight,� said Kojishi, eagerly.

�No,� said her father, and then shook his head. �Well, yes, but you�re a princess! You�re a girl! You�re not meant to fight!�

Kojishi muttered something under her breath about Kin and �girly shouts� and �stupid rules�, but her father stood up, and walked to her. Taking her by the shoulders, he looked at her seriously. �Please Kojishi,� he said, and once more, he looked terribly old to both his children. �Don�t make this harder than it already is.� It took a moment, and in that moment, Kojishi too saw what Kin had � the wrinkles upon an old, tired man instead of her father, the King - and finally, she nodded, opening her mouth and then shutting it, looking utterly downcast. Her father patted her on the shoulder, and walked out of the room, leaving the twins alone, both feeling terrible.

Kin sat down, looking dejected, and a moment later Kojishi followed. A sort of a hollow silence permeated the room, sinking into the pores of each adolescent, and for a while, they just stood there. Even yesterday, the prospect of war had been just that, a prospect, and this morning had seemed normal, with Kojishi in trouble and Kin laughing at her woes. Now, though, it was beginning to sink in. Kojishi was leaving. Kin might have to fight. The war was upon them, and things were looking terrible.

Reaching out, the princess took her brother�s hand, and they both sat there for a very long time.

Gushiken returned with the news that there was nothing in the forests, and that the beggar boy had obviously been joking. Kin didn�t believe him. The way he looked away and nodded seriously conveyed his disbelief clearly to Kojishi, even if it didn�t to his father, and Gushiken. Kojishi was then duly filled in about the beggar, what he had said, and everything that had followed by Kin. To Kin�s anger, she did not seem to be too concerned.

�If Gushiken says there�s nothing there, Kin, then there�s nothing there.�

Kin shook his head. �I don�t know��

�Look, you didn�t see it yourself, did you?� demanded Kojishi, angry more because Kin was beating himself up about something that she was certain did not need any more attention than because he didn�t seem to trust the royal advisor. �Gushiken has been serving our father for years, Kin! Are you suggesting that he�s lying?�

�Of course not!� said Kin, stunned at the mere possibility. �I am just� worried.�

�There are,� said Kojishi, reminding her brother of their mother in a very eerie, but not entirely unexpected manner, �other things you could focus on. There are far more things to be worried about than imaginary figures in the forest.�

But neither royal child was truly convinced, and at night, again, neither could sleep. The weather outside was terribly quiet, and the utter stillness of the air held the cold promise of a storm coming up, more terrible than the one the night before, more lasting. This was merely the calm before the storm. The worst, Kin knew, and the realization made him go cold with sickening fear, had not even begun.