EMON
The otherworldly portal was like black liquid and cloud dancing together. And from it came a metallic object as black as the portal itself.
It was a strange object of dark metal, longer than a grown man's arm and built in a shape unfamiliar to me. One end was hollow like the mouth of a pipe, while the other was flattened as though meant to rest against the shoulder. Along its top sat a glass tube resembling a tiny spyglass, its polished lens reflecting the pale light of winter.
There was no string to pull, no edge to cut with, no visible source of power. Yet the thing carried a dangerous stillness about it. Small metal parts rested along its body, fitted together so perfectly one would think they had grown that way rather than been forged by human hands.
I narrowed my eyes at the object. It looked less like a weapon made by blacksmiths and more like some impossible tool from an age yet to come. Cold. Precise. Devoid of artistry.
And somehow—that made it all the more terrifying.
"What is this?" I asked in awe and trepidation.
Caynith stylishly hung the metal object on his shoulder and watched as the portal slowly closed before replying. "It's called a sniper rifle. A weapon from a long-gone age, a time yet to come, or a land not within the maps of the world. Only one thing is certain; its origin is unknown to me."
Caynith put the "sniper," as he called it, inside a box that also came from the other side of the portal. "Follow me, let's go hunting," Caynith said. Talia and I willingly obliged.
The three of us went back to the place where we left our knights. The two of them were—
Juhsap and Neckler were entertaining two women in my carriage. Nothing serious, just flirtation and merry-making with wine and cake they bought from one of the shops around.
They both jumped up as they saw us approaching. The wine in Neckler's hand was struck by Juhsap's hand, making it splatter across all four of them.
The women ran away, but not before the short one snatched away a coin pouch from Neckler. The big-bodied Neckler attempted to catch her from his knees as he heard the clanking of his coins. But they were faster than he had hoped.
I looked at them disappointedly in order to hide my laughter. The closer I got, the lower their heads bowed. "Juhsap, Neckler, why?" I asked calmly.
They both gave each other a glance before Neckler replied. "High Prince, we thought you and the Princess still had hours to spend. We thought it'd be best if we made use of that time."
I scratched the back of my head before replying. "Rise, I'll let you go for now."
I could feel Talia's anger from behind. Ouch, Talia's ice-clad punch to my lower back made that anger visible. "You're too lax, Emon. They will be walking back to the castle on foot and awaiting further punishment," she said matter-of-factly, as though the decision rested on her. Not that I would go against her wishes; after all, she's my wife.
The two knights took their leave as commanded. On foot, the journey back was not longer than thirty minutes, but an unhorsed knight was no longer a knight. Even if others didn't know their circumstances, they themselves would feel the embarrassment.
Meanwhile, Caynith, who had remained silent and unnoticed, took us towards the end of the Devner Woods. Within this isolated area of the woods, it was permissible to hunt. Antelopes, boars, stags, and many more animals that nature had to offer made that place their home.
He removed the sniper from its case and climbed onto a tall tree with branches big enough to hold up to four humans. He set the sniper down and, in a lying position, closed one eye while peering through the glass tube with the other.
Amazing, even if Caynith isn't sure, such a thing could only belong to the future. But I guess it's time to see what he's all about.
I glanced at Talia to see what she felt about the sniper. But my thoughts drifted from her reaction towards the sniper to what I was about to say before Caynith interrupted. Those words were not new to me. After all, many girls had heard those words from my mouth.
"High Prince—High Prince—High Prince," Caynith shouted, drawing my attention. The first two calls barely reached me, but the last was clear enough to pry my attention away from Talia.
Caynith waved from the top of the tree as he signaled his readiness to proceed. He did as he had done before. But this time, he put a finger through a hole that had something like a lever.
He remained like that for about half a minute before pressing the lever. Immediately after, a quick flash of light at the mouth of the pipe was followed by a loud sound.
Talia moved to cover her ears, but only an echo of that sound remained. I, on the other hand, was left with questions. What was the result of this "sniper rifle" this man told us about? If he turned out to be a waste of time, I might just punish him.
Caynith finally stood up and then jumped down to the ground. For some reason, he seemed tired yet impressed with himself. "High Prince, please follow me," said Caynith as he walked through a path in the woods.
The path took us to a dead stag. Immediately, I ran forward to inspect the animal. Blood was pouring out from one of its sides. I removed my sword to dissect it, and inside the wound, I found something. Something that was clearly fading away, something that looked like the fang of a beast but straighter and sharper. And within a few more seconds, the reddish colour of lifeforce disappeared.
Talia moved to my right and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Emon, he seems worth hiring," she said. And again, just like before, I knew I could not refuse this so-called "advice."
I nodded in agreement, then said, "He would definitely be a valuable asset. But we must keep his divine trait a secret."
Talia smiled lightly before replying, "Alright then. Caynith, you are to work in the shadows. You will trail Emon's movements and eliminate any danger from leagues away. You will also assassinate his enemies."
Again, I nodded in agreement, but I might have to tell him to tone down the killing. To be honest, I would prefer if he protected Leanor, Mother, and Talia. But apparently, I have to start thinking like the future Emperor until the war ends.
Caynith coughed as if he had something to say. "Speak," I commanded.
"It might be quite tiring to follow you all the time while carrying the weapon with me. It takes lifeforce to work, you know. I have a limit of one hour per day," said Caynith.
One hour was impressive for the services it offered. He was a lucky one. "Caynith, that won't be a problem. To be honest, one hour per day is much," I said. "But wait, is the hour cumulative?" I asked curiously.
Caynith smiled a little after hearing my words. "Yes, Most High. I can use it at different hours in a day."
That gave me relief. Now I didn't need to adjust my plans to fit such a limit. I guess it was also time to go home; this date had been ruined. "Talia, it seems I won't be accompanying you back home," I said with a hint of sadness.
Talia looked at me suspiciously, which made me wave my hands dramatically, as though denying I had anything suspicious in mind. "Where are you going, Emon?" she asked sharply.
To make it even more suspicious, I didn't know what I wanted to do. Perhaps I just wanted to walk alone and think. "I don't know, Talia," I said with my head bowed in disappointment.
Without saying a word, Talia began to leave. Caynith accompanied her, and I was left alone in the beautiful greenery. I have to get my mind off that dream. I cut a bud from a flower and gazed at it. That dream felt as real as this bud. Normally, when I dream, I forget the details. But this one was clear as the morning sky.
A tavern should do it. Since I married that girl, I hadn't been to the Wet Throat Tavern. Just the drinks and meat, nothing more.
I reached the tavern in around forty minutes. It was a green-roofed two-storey building. I was hesitant to enter because of my past activities. In truth, I wouldn't know if I'd truly changed until I put myself into the fires of temptation.
The tavern was packed even though it was barely midday. Luckily, I was their richest customer and had a private room from back in the day.
"Good day, Miss Clara," I said as I stood in front of the keeper.
She sized me up, trying to remember who was speaking. Had her eyes finally betrayed her? No, maybe it was the change in my hair colour. After all, I was now Emon Grey-hair. "High Prince! It has been long."
"Yes it has. I'll need the key to my room," I replied. Beside her table was a row of keys. Surprisingly, I did not see my key among them.
She gave me a good look before saying, "The room is open and in use. You know the person."
What did she mean my room was being used, and who was this person? Could Caster have picked up my bad habits? No, Cas was fiercely loyal to Cara Dakrrin. Well, there was only one way to find out.
I created a frenzy as I hurried through the tavern. The most common whispers were, 'Who was this?' and 'That is Prince Emon, I recognize that face anywhere.' In truth, it had only been a little more than one year since the Lecher Prince died. I was seven and ten, but my face had not matured beyond recognition.
I finally stood in front of the dark-brown wooden door that led into my private room. I knocked, but that alone was enough to make the door swing open.
Candor Culayn, the man closest to my father, and for some reason, the exiled King of Dornwick, Leolyn Blaran.
Dornwick was sacked almost easily. Their king was deceived, and the Unfettered Four had the Dornwickers on their side too. After all, the royal family's performance had not been good enough in the eyes of the masses. 'What do we gain by being aligned with Central Velecor?' must have been a very common question.
What is this feeling? I finally found myself not the object of military compliments or something of the sort. Culayn gave me no bow. Leolyn, on the other hand, was a king, even if he was a king of nowhere at this point. Reinstalling him on the throne would perhaps be critical to ending this war.
"High Prince, it is good to see a friend here today," Leolyn said with a smile.
For months, he had been living under the protection of House Clovis. But even then, friend was not the right word to describe our relationship. "King Leolyn, Lord Candor. Wh—"
Before I could finish, Candor interrupted. "Has the Lecher Prince resurrected?" said Candor as he stirred his tea with a spoon.
I looked at him with a hint of anger as I replied. "Does Father know what is happening here?" I asked plainly.
Candor put aside his tea and replied, "Of course not."
Leolyn beckoned me to take a seat, to which I obliged. "You and I are of the same age. We should be friends," he said with a fake smile.
"After what has happened... after your father killed mine and Dornwick fell, I sought refuge in the laps of many women here. Candor was the one who recommended it though," he said as a string of his blue hair danced with the flame in the hearth.
I shook my head in disappointment. Dornwick may well be gone for good. "Candor does things mostly for my father's sake. Are you sure you're not dancing to his tune? Also, it would be better for your reputation if you ceased your patronage of this establishment."
"A fine advice for one so experienced," said Leolyn as he finally gave a genuine smile. "But I didn't come here to fool around today. My father's body was dug up, and his heart removed."
Leolyn stood and walked towards me. He put his right hand on my shoulder. The height difference was clearly visible as he had to stretch his arm a little to reach me, though he was no small man by any means.
He carried himself with strange humility, almost like a beggar. "Friend, as we well know, when a body dies, the divine trait lives on in the body, sustaining itself with whatever little lifeforce remains. But I sensed nothing from my father."
I didn't understand where he was going with this. "What do you mean?" I asked curiously.
"After pouring all my thoughts into it, I think someone whose divine trait grants him the ability to steal or transfer another person's trait did it. The heart was part of the condition needed to be met," he answered remarkably, almost impressing me.
He was right. Someone with this kind of ability would be a problem. He could dig up graves of well-preserved corpses and harvest their traits. If what he said was true, he already possessed immense power. After all, since Father fought Oswald, he had been wearing a glove on his right hand.
We have a grave digger to stop. I might have to accept his friendship for a while. But keeping it all from Father would be a problem.