They walked for some time up the darkened passageway, watching as the night passed mistily below. And when at last the messenger paused his steps Asael found that they were standing in a faintly lit hallway. He parted the cloak and looked about, seeing before them a number of guards clothed in black metal armor. His legs weakened and a slow ebbing hatred grew in his heart, fizzling away in a moment to downed ambers. His head fell, obscured within the cloak once more. 

The messenger spoke softly to the gathered soldiers, and then in strange fashion like puppets upon string they parted, revealing a door.

“ This is the prince consort’s cabin. . . your highness” The messenger turned to Asael and unclasped the lamp, holding it in his path. 

Asael lingered near the doorway reluctant to step in. 

The chambers surrounding them were palatial, with walls of overflowing gold wrought with amber.  Even the floors beneath his feet were laden intricately, with vines of flaxen curling past and cascading upon fixtures of the room.

“ The aide and the maids will arrive shortly” The messenger spoke softly, and retrieved the lamp to his hands. They stood in a silence for a moment awaiting his response but Asael did not look back and glided into the room, hiding amidst its shadows. 

Alone once more Asael fell limp against a soft day bed, watching as the light of the messenger’s lamp ebbed away through the glass doors. 

 And leftward there were windows, painted amber and grey by lamps aflame in the mist. Asael crawled towards them and opened the latch with ease. He perched upon the sill, lifting his head against the chilly wind, breathing at last. 

Yet before long there was a swift knock upon the door and a gentle call behind it. A human woman’s voice perhaps. A trickle of cold dripped from his brow and pooled on his palm. He did not speak. The door opened slowly and behind it stood a woman of great stature, clad in deep ambers and a look of fear upon her face.

“ Your highness” she fell to her knees “ I am the head aide to the prince consort as appointed by his highness the  crown prince of Drugar” 

The head aide gestured and from behind her emerged two youth, small and fair. They gathered their hands in greeting and fell to their knees, looking upon his feet with keen interest. 

Asael stared at them strangely. 

Undeterred by his silence, the head aide and the two helpers dispersed about the cabin, unveiling it’s passages and galleries with lamp light. And it was awhile later that they approached him again.

“ Your highness, The journey ahead is weary and long, shall I arrange for some refreshments or perhaps prepare a warm bath?”  

The aide’s speech was unlike any tongue he had ever heard, not the gentle word of Ahsara nor the fleeting breath of Araya or Wengen. Its words coiled and unfurled against the tongue harshly, yet fell softer than the Drugan war cries at the winter border. 

Asael knew not what to refute with, and so shook his head vehemently as the aide continued to speak, gesturing gently about the room. He smiled and opened his mouth making a weak sound of approval. Agreeing to whatever, hoping that her ambitions would be kind and untroubling. 

Heeding his approval the aide vanished again and Asael heard her voice some way far back, and as he sat there face against the windows, the shadow of a youth passed him, closing the door in a hurry. The cold wind  brushed wetly and uncomfortably against his skin and he ached so terribly to be out of these robes. For the wounds upon his body now stuck thickly to the dressings that Lilia had carefully wrapped, searing the warmth of the phoenix’s tear onto his core cavity. 

As he began to lament, the aide returned, speaking again in words that fell fleetingly upon his ears. She offered him her hand and led him through the weaving passages of the cabin. And then they emerged, through a cloven doorway onto a clear and bright chamber, where upon sat a wide and round table.

And there upon its decorated eaves sat many fragrant platters, of pungent cooked meat, pillars of strange ornate fruit and bread vaguely similar in shape and scent to those at Ariansyll with an assortment of berries by its side. 

The lady appeared shortly with a small pot of tea in her hands, and poured its fragrant amber water into a white porcelain cup by his side. 

Asael brought the tea to his lips and sipped slowly at it in doubt.  And though different, its warmth was soft and comforting, much like the soups of the perfumery. How lonely this meal was . . . if he was at the border perfumery, Ara and Sarel would sit beside him, and the kitchen aunt would converse loudly with Lilia at the head of the table. And outside, the clamor of streets would ring in passing and the cries and calls of children would echo through the corridors in tandem to the singing nightbirds. 

Yet now here he was, the little company that he had leaving him in the murky darkness of a Drugan warship. Asael swallowed his tears, promising to never forgive Serein or Reven for this betrayal. Asael looked up and watched the intricate markings of the ceiling with intent. Where would the enemy prince be at this time? Perhaps the floor above, perhaps beyond? Would he come to see him soon? Asael hoped not . . . for he found his mind drifting and teetering close to the gunwale at the mere thought.

Now he was left with two choices, to search for his wisp or to choose death, and if he were to now choose his end  it would be a much easier task to evade a few Drugan soldiers to fighting off a palace’s worth of guards and soldiers. And when he touched ground there he shall die in peace without torture or pain.

Was it not a preferable end to this relentless toil? But what would become of Araya in his absence? Would Stara alone be able to secure the safety of Nimyi land and replenish the coming blood of the blue moon wisp?

Asael admonished himself, how easily had he thought to leave his burdens to others. Even if Serein’s eyes had seen no hope in him,  if he must die then let it be at the winter border, with the blue moon wisp secure in Araya’s arms, or let the wisp use his body for life and cross the border itself. Whatever fate the wisp had met he must see it with his own eyes and feel it neath his skin. 

He looked about the table and spooned a small slice of fruit onto his plate. The berries and fruits of Drugar were many in variety and were of forms and taste he had never known. He took a few bites and set the rest aside, so that he may escape the aide’s watchful eyes. 

Now only the task of tending to his wounds remained. For so long it was Lilia that had done so, yet he too was versed well in the realm of Nimyi healing though he knew little of the herbs and methods of Ahsara and would know even less of the ways of Drugar. 

“ Uhm” Asael began and swallowed his words, it would be unwise to ask them for medicine. If the news of his injury reached the enemy crown  prince he would only be drawing the strings of a torturous fate upon himself.

The aides stepped forth, looking keenly up at Asael. He shook his head and smiled. They looked between themselves in confusion. 

“ Your highness” The head aide bowed, “ The night draws upon us, shall a warm bath be prepared?”

Asael nodded and swiftly turned away, hiding his face within the cloak as he walked towards the many doors within the passage. He entered one of them and in relief saw in its middle a large bed. Here the aides may not disturb him and would know he wished to be alone. Yet his hope was in vain for a moment later,  there was a knock upon his door and as he opened it the head aide stood behind, now clad in a strange white apron. He looked behind her and saw that the two helpers were also clothed the same. 

The aide gestured towards a door opposite to the sleeping chamber. And one of the helpers opened it, bathing the passageway in a tender floral scent. Asael looked at them wearily. During the past few days he had suffered many rituals and prayers, he did not know whether any strength remained in him to go through yet  another.

Defeatedly he followed them and entered the chamber. The fragrant mist soon enveloped him and he saw that the room was in fact a small balneae, with flowers upon its rippling waters and shimmering bubbles in the air. But to his regret the aide too began to follow him along with her white clad helpers. And as her hands reached towards his robes, Asael stepped back in shock. Seeing his response the head aide and her helpers retreated  falling to the ground in pleading.

“ Your highness this subject was only hoping to assist your bath”

He understood a little of their intention and so profusely shook his head and gestured towards the door. The aide looked rather confused but she waved the two helpers to retreat and she knelt before Asael once more. He shook his head in refusal,  pointing adamantly to the door, and so she could only gather her white apron and retreat in woe. 

Now alone Asael placed his ears against the door and listened, soft breath still fell on the other side. He took a few steps back and sighed. Then he looked about the room, past the fragrant foaming bath, towards the windows, where their light fell upon a large mirror that reflected his face upon its silver surface.  

He walked towards it and twisted around, and found that thankfully he had not bled through the ceremonial dress. Praying in relief he began to untie the robes, first the crimson brooch fastened to his shoulders, then the cascading golden dress. The blood had soaked through wound dressing  and the pristine white of the inner robes, tainting them brown. 

He stumbled across to the bath and sat cross legged near the basin. Dipping a clean towel in its waters. 

It was painful but he had to do it. He squeezed the warm towel in his hand and pressed it gently onto the glowing core, he thought it was now a healed wound but it seemed that he had been wrong. He wiped gently at the skin for awhile before the robes came unstuck. And at last he breathed in relief.  The tearing pain in his chest dissipated and the marred skin softened glassy against the touch of water, brightening the light of the phoenix’s tear. He must be careful to hide it when he dressed again. 

Next he moistened the shoulder and pried off the robes. The wounds had torn and lay bare and gaping, bleeding profusely.   Suddenly tears gathered in his eyes, and he longed terribly to be at the border perfumery and its little bath house again. 

He had thought the universe would allow that much, to remain within that quaint establishment until he healed and found strength in himself.  He wiped away the tears and held his aching chest. He could not allow himself this grief, for he feared the tears shall never cease if he did. 

Thinking it unwise to bath, he wiped his body slowly with the warm cloth. Then with some effort he washed away the blood stains of the inner robes, now if one caught sight of it, the stains looked much  like gathered dust or mud. Where some still remained as they had walked to the ship  in the drizzling rain. 

Once done the waters of the small basin flowed a violent scarlet. His head throbbed, if someone were to see this, they would surely find out his identity and then. . . he looked past the crystalline windows of the chambers.  His only escape would be to jump from this ship and end this forsaken journey.

And perhaps that shall be a better end to this toil. Asael’s eyes closed. . . withdrawing his thoughts, it was comforting to think that the universe should allow him an easy escape when it had so easily led him to his demise. 

He looked about the basin, and saw that there were a few levers, hiding under the faucets. They were similar to those in Araya, and if they served the same, he should find one that would drain the basin. He turned this and that, and at once the bubbling bath began to fill, then with another it swirled softly emitting bubbles, and at the turn of the last knob the pool of crimson whirled, sinking down a pipe, out of sight. It seemed that a little of his fortune still remained. 

With peace of mind  Asael placed the worn clothes folded neatly in a pile and upon it the crimson brooch. Then he picked it up, holding it against a lamp by the mirror. Within the heavy gem there fluttered a bird with golden feathers, it’s chest bright with light. 

 

He examined his body in the silver mirror and saw no wounds upon his core, yet the soft healing flesh of his arms and shoulders was torn in some places, and where his bones cracked there lay violet bruises. He pressed the bruised skin lightly and bit his lips in pain. His fingers where new fingernails grew had been rubbed raw. 

Asael closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the water grow cold upon his skin.

Beside the mirror hung several robes. White inner robes, and several outer robes. But these looked rather strange unlike the clothing worn by the Ahsarans or even the aides he had seen. Tears gathered in his eyes again, regretting that he must seek aide to dress. Just as he had been when he first opened his eyes in Ahsara. 

Before opening the doors, Asael took the washed wet strips of dressing cloth and wrapped it tightly across his chest and shoulders. Then with difficultly donned the soft inner robes, tying its strings several times misshapenly, then undoing it again and again. Once satisfied he attempted to wear the outer robes to no avail. There were many strings and many clasps and hooks, and the more he tried his hand, the more he felt that he was better off leaping out of the windows. 

Giving up he treaded towards the doors. And at last  saw a pleasant smile upon the aide’s face. Seeing the prince in distress, the aide and her helpers rushed in,  and with ease and practice dressed him comfortably for the night. 

“ Then your highness, please call upon this subject for whatever need that arises, We will be waiting in the outer quarters”

Asael smiled and nodded, eagerly awaiting their departure. Yet troublingly so, they lingered in the hallways, waiting for him to retreat to the sleeping chamber. He turned away and stiffly closed the door between them. 

He gathered the soft blankets upon his body and crawled to a corner of the bed, feeling that he may drown and slip otherwise. It had been so long since he last slept. His thoughts began to drift, his eyes fell close, but little comfort did sleep bring to him and he awoke once more, blinking drowsily against the fading light.