Chapter Fourteen: First Prince of Zaw
TWO DAYS LATER, Gronjas was preparing a carriage and a small army of servants to accompany them on their journey into Tbai. He brought no other disciples or warriors with them, and put a cloth hat on Nilhin’s head to help disguise him among his servants as they exited the Hvit Fortress. Their journey to the Tbai border would take nearly three weeks, and it was along the border that they were to meet with the first prince of Zaw.
The journey was long and arduous, but it was only this way because Nilhin had to suffer the constant and persistent company of Gronjas, who didn’t trust him not to run away it seemed. Gronjas kept Nilhin by his side, despite having dressed and told him to act like a servant. He was not treated like a servant, he was treated like a well-liked criminal being transported.
However, they soon came across a bustling city, flourishing under the border between territories, and built into the side of a small mountain, the much taller ones looming over them, massive to them despite being so far they turned purple in the distance. The establishment they went into was warm, and full of furniture made from dark wood, with table runners made of red cloth and tall candles lighting all the tables. There was a large bar, which is where most of the patrons were, although there were duos and trios scattered around.
“Shouldn’t I wait outside?” Nilhin asked, since he was supposed to play the role of a normal servant so he could then become just that with the Zaw Clan later.
“No, he needs to see you’re important to me,” Gronjas said as he guided Nilhin around the tables and up the first flight of stairs. “If he thinks I care about you, he’ll do anything to take you from me.”
There seemed to be some rivalry between them, and certainly a story that could explain how it began or why it continued, but honestly, Nilhin didn’t care. Everytime he used the word friend, it was manipulation, he did not care for Gronjas as he once did, because Gronjas had outed him, and then he had kissed him, and then he had denied him, and for what? Nilhin didn’t understand men, that just had to be why, all he knew is that they were slaves to their instincts, just like animals and beasts, no matter how different they claimed to be. Gronjas still touched and held onto Nilhin, no matter how much he said he didn’t want him, his actions rarely matched his insistence. What Nilhin thought was going on, however, was that Gronjas’ desire was causing him more internal conflict, so he was suffering some sort of cognitive dissonance. Nilhin had seen it in the younger girls when they first started to work at the brothel, but they usually got over it really quick as they realised what their lives had become.
They walked up another flight of stairs before they came to a hall. Gronjas opened the first one on the right and walked in. Nilhin followed dutifully behind him, his head down like a servant ought to behave.
“Well, well, well?” a soft, but cold, voice said. It belonged to a man, most certainly the first prince of Zaw. “And who is it that’s hiding behind you, brother?”
The way the first prince said ‘brother’ could only mean he loathed Gronjas, and could never consider him any more than shit on his boots. It was quite vitriolic, and Nilhin liked it. What a lovely position he must have to be able to speak so freely and carelessly to someone of Gronjas’ status. The joys of being born privileged, he supposed.
The way the first prince said ‘brother’ is the same way that Nilhin felt he would refer to the terrible boy that his father celebrated on the day of his immense humiliation, the boy -- his brother -- who had done nothing to help him.
“Introduce yourself,” Gronjas muttered, giving him a soft nudge forward. Nilhin bowed properly and low, bending himself in half to do so.
“This one is Nilhin, first prince of Zaw.”
“And what is a servant doing here, Gronjas?”
“He’s too precious to be left unattended,” Gronjas said. Gronjas walked towards the table that the first prince reclined at, one of his knees resting over the top surface. Gronjas pulled the chair out, and then a hooked sword, shaped almost like a mix of a scythe and the tri-jointed leg of an animal, slapped the table. The hooked head of the sword curled against the seat.
“Can’t I sit?” Gronjas asked.
“I don’t know,” the first prince said. “Can you?”
There was a tense moment and angry gazes shared between them, until the first prince raised his sword and set it beside his seat.
“Why did you call me here?” the first prince asked. “I have better things to do than tend to your lackadaisical whims.”
“There was a fox beast near Storkott,” Gronjas explained. “I need a break from that chaos, and I need something from you.”
“So you want my help, after everything that’s happened, you’ve come crawling to the only powerful man you know,” the first prince said before he laughed. “Wonderful! What do you need?”
“I need to store something with you, and I need you to keep it safe,” Gronjas said. “He’s so special. You wouldn’t understand…”
“Wouldn’t I?” the first prince asked, looking at Nilhin. Nilhin kept his head down, but he had long since gotten proficient in looking without appearing to do so. The first prince had a stern, square face, with eyes like coal and hands rough with callouses and a litany of scars that Nilhin didn’t associate with young masters, especially not the children of the clan leaders of the legendary dynasties.
The first prince kicked his legs over the table and stood up. He walked towards Nilhin, and hooked a rough finger beneath his chin to force his head up.
“Oh, he’s awfully young, isn’t he?” the first prince asked. “Is this why you did what you did? Because I was too old for your tastes?” Gronjas sighed as he too stood up.
“I’m not attracted to men,” Gronjas said. “Well, except…” Gronjas looked away. “You’re not attracted to anybody. It’s best not to play the victim, when it was your father trying to shape you into a life you’d hate. I did you a favour.”
“A favour?” the first prince asked. His fingers quickly turned over, his hand gripping Nilhin’s jaw, digging into his cheeks and his chin, squishing his face. “You embarrassed me in front of my father. He made the request, and you denied it, you denied me, my worth, my value. What does this little brat have that I don’t? Why can’t he stay with you, with your good family, with your siblings who love you and want you to succeed? What’s so wrong with him that you’d send him to me?”
“He’s… he was raised in a brothel, his mother was a whore--” Nilhin flinched, and the first prince snickered at his discomfort-- “and he’s still a child. There’s no way they’d approve, and if they realised that I’ve become so smitten with such an unworthy candidate… my family wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of the problem,” Gronjas said.
“Unworthy,” the first prince said, “How curious that you’d cast him away for the same reason you’ve done to me. Is he good at anything, or is he just a servant?”
“He’s just a servant,” Gronjas said, too quickly for anyone to believe him. The first prince rolled his eyes as Gronjas reached out to hold his shoulder in a brotherly way. “Trust me, and don’t pry. The only one he’s special to is me.”
“The more you speak, the easier it is to see that you’re lying,” the first prince said. He looked down at Nilhin, who was entirely unimpressed by Gronjas’ acting skills. “But why would I pry into the life of a servant who can’t do anything? I don’t care what he’s good at, being raised in a brothel and all. You’re right, I’ve never cared for that sort of thing. As long as he keeps quiet and to himself, and as long as he doesn’t embarrass me in front of my father, I don’t see why I can’t take him.” The first prince released his grip on his face and stroked the skin with the back of his fingers. “You’re awfully soft, little servant. I suppose you needed to be that way if you came from a brothel. How long did you work there?”
“This one worked since he was six, but I only helped with the book keeping,” Nilhin said.
“I don’t care what you did, whether you were a whore or not, I just wanted to see how long you’ve been working. So, if you started when you were six, and you’re now…?”
“Fourteen.”
“Yes, fourteen, then you’ve been following orders for eight years,” the first prince said. “That should make you very good at it. If you embarrass me in front of my father, I don’t care what Gronjas thinks of you, you’re dead, do you understand?” Nilhin nodded his head. “Good. Well, if that’s all you wanted, I have actual business to attend to in Neuma. My father probably thinks I’m slacking as it is.”
“Your father will always think poorly of you,” Gronjas said. “He hates everyone.”
“You don’t know my father,” the first prince said, walking around the table to pick up his sword. The man slid it into a looped holster at his waist, where the blade was exposed, but the handle was fastened against his waist. Unlike the Hvit who wore leather and furs, to combat the cold, the first prince wore light, linen clothes bleached stark white and stained with intricate red patterns. His cloak was made of fur, but it was similarly dyed a vibrant red, resembling an animal covered in blood.
“I know that he’s a misanthrope. Everyone knows that,” Gronjas said. The first prince seems to ignore this and heads towards the door.
“Come along, servant boy, we’re returning to Neuma,” the first prince said. As Nilhin turned to follow the first prince, his new master, out of the room like he was instructed, Gronjas grabbed him by the wrist and held him back. The first prince seemed to notice he had stopped following him and leaned against the doorframe with a blank expression that only indicated his apathy. “First you give him to me, and now you won’t let me take him?”
Gronjas ignored the first prince as he let go of Nilhin’s wrist. He cupped his cheek in his larger hand, his fingers reaching past his hairline despite his palm dipping beneath his chin.
“I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” Gronjas said. Nilhin dipped his head in a nod. Gronjas didn’t let him go though. Gronjas leaned down to kiss him again. Nilhin stood still as the tear on Gronjas’ face leaked onto his own. When Gronjas let him go, Nilhin stood back and wiped the other man’s tears from his face.
“Thank you for letting me go,” Nilhin said, instead of acknowledging whatever that little outburst and kiss were supposed to be. “I’ll forever be grateful for your sacrifice.”
“Let him go, Gronjas. I don’t have all day to watch you mourn a nobody,” the first prince said. Nilhin easily walked away from Gronjas, but he heard the other man choke back a sob as he left. What about Nilhin had attracted Gronjas so much? After all, Nilhin had been convinced they were friends for most of their association, so when had it changed, and what had Nilhin done to make him believe such a thing was possible between them? Once Nilhin followed the first prince out of the establishment, the first prince motioned to the animal he must have come on. It was like a goat, but it was a little different as well, namely in the massive horns it had, deeply ridged.
“It’s an ibex,” the first prince said. “You can ride with me. Just hold on and if you let go, I’m not coming back for you.”
The first prince approached the tall, curly-horned creature and jumped, swinging a leg over it. Nilhin followed suit when instructed, and wrapped his arms around the first prince as soon as it started to go faster than a trot. Nilhin turned his head, his cheeks pressed against the fur covering the back of the first prince’s robes as they rode. He wanted to see how the world changed. It grew rockier and more hostile the further into Tbai they travelled, and the first prince stopped only to feed and water his ibex, of which he hadn’t named it -- names were for people, not working animals, according to the first prince, but it didn’t sound like an opinion that originated from him.
Finally, after weeks of sleeping on the ground, and being ignored or insulted passively by the first prince, they approached a towering gate at the base of a massive mountain. The first prince dismounted the ibex they rode, and held it still while Nilhin slid off as well. There were no people in sight, or a town or anything like that. The mouth of the cave was silent save for the sound of trickling water.
“We’re here,” the first prince said. Nilhin didn’t know how this was Neuma. The first prince held the reins of the ibex to Nilhin and stood to the side, to center his internal energy before he sent forth a long blast of fire. The flames lit up the cave, to reveal a variety of silent servants dressed in ashy robes to hide their visages in the cave. The servants rushed out as soon as they were seen and tended to the ibex. Nilhin frowned at the shackles on their wrists and binding their feet beneath their heavy, black robes. The first prince caught his attention as soon as he looked away from their state.
“These aren’t servants like you, they’re slaves. They don’t even have names anymore,” the first prince said. Nilhin worried what that meant. Were they once people then? “You know, when criminals act, they’re punished. The slaves here are the worst, and their personhood is ripped from them so they can reptent through service. Follow our laws, and this will never happen to you.”
Nilhin had never heard of any of the other clans having a system such as this in place. To strip criminals of their personhood and freewill seemed wrong, no matter their wrong doing. Nilhin didn’t even know the laws of Tbai or how they differed from both Krokstad or Keydaya.
Nilhin entered this strange place, with no dreams of this process coming with any sense of ease at all. At least he was unknown here, and thus able to hide himself better. All he had to do was blend in and not draw any attention to himself.
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