After discovering the mysterious tattoo that spontaneously appeared upon his back, Yuer couldn’t go back to sleep. So instead, He decided to heal the little Valquari boy’s many wounds and bruises with his Light Echo. Once Yuer was satisfied with his treatment, He went ahead redirecting his Light Echo into his own bruised skin. It didn’t take long for the sting of pain to disappear and for the bleeding to stop. He had the child wipe off the remaining bloody smears of his back before donning fresh undergarments.

Just as Yuer slipped behind the dressing screen, Sakina walked into his inner chamber. She stopped in front of the wooden partition and offered him a deep bow. She then informed him in a low and measured tone, “The sun has passed the heart of the sky. Esteemed Dasiri is back. She requests esteemed young master’s presence in her courtyard.”

Yuer’s hands which were about to slip into the wide sleeves of his new robes froze for a moment. A glint of something unfathomable passed through the depth of his blue eyes before fading away in an instance. At last, he uttered, “Help me dress up.”

Sakina nodded, joining her young master behind the screen. She smoothed the little wrinkles on the eggshell-white brocade with her hands, helped him close the several delicate clasps of his high collar and lastly tightened his dark blue sash. She then opened the top drawer of the dressing table and brought out a piece of jewelry. She kneeled before Yuer and pinned a sapphire sliver pendant to his sash. Afterwards, she guided her young master to the dressing table to comb his shoulder-length hair. She styled the brown strands into a loose, looped half-updo, held together by a simple, leaf-shaped silver hairpin. Once finished, she surveyed his appearance one final time before retreating.

Yuer rose from his chair and turned to his servant, “I will meet her on my own. It’s time for you to leave for the Dasrari District. The Second Reznal has no friends in the capital so he should be staying at one of the better inns in the area. Keep your eyes and your ears open.”

“Yes, esteemed young master.”

Yuer pulled out two silver pieces from a box on his dressing table and put them in his servant’s hand, “In case you need them.”

He then walked to his desk and took out a piece of paper. He folded it twice and gave it to his servant, “Once you find out where the Second Reznal is staying, find a way to slip this note into his room.”

Sakina nodded and immediately rushed to the doors. Yuer watched her leave before glancing back at the little boy, quietly sitting on the bed. The child had his thin arms clasped around his bony knees, staring intently at Yuer. The older youth walked toward the child and gently caressed the white fuzz on his head. He then softly reassured, “I will be back soon. Rest some more, or if you like, there are still some snacks on the table. Eat as much as you want.”

The child didn’t say anything and instead tightened his fist around Yuer’s robes. The youth glanced down at the small, trembling fist clenching pitifully around the fabric of his clothes. A melancholic smile tagged at his lips, “You are safe here and I’m only leaving for a little while. I promised you I will be back soon, didn’t I?”

Yuer clasped his hand around the skinny fist; squeezed it once before slowly removing it from his robes. He then headed to the doors.

The little boy remained motionless on the bed, silently watching Yuer’s figure as it disappeared behind the doors. His obsidian eyes flashed red for an instance before returning to their usual, bottomless black.

Once Yuer reached the Ayaseen Dasiri’s quarters, an old acquaintance came out to receive him. It was Walan, the Dasiri’s oldest and most trusted servant. He bowed to him then went ahead to greet him in a tone which somehow sounded respectful and disdainful at the same time, “Good afternoon, esteemed young master. Esteemed Dasiri is waiting for you inside.”

Yuer didn’t rush inside. Instead, he remained rooted to his spot; his gaze boring into the back of Walan’s bowed head.

Yuer recalled the last time he saw this man. He came to him bearing the words of his mistress, few days prior to the decree of his house arrest. He could clearly remember the condescending tone of this servant’s nasal voice as he commemorated him for being an obedient, outstanding scapegoat. A surge of something bitter and violent churned within the pit of Yuer’s gut.

The bowing servant must have felt the youth’s keen eyes on him because he instinctively looked up. The chilling iciness the servant glimpsed in Yuer’s eyes made the little hairs on his covered nape stand up. He had the strangest impression, as if he was being pierced by the glare of a poisonous, wrathful snake. Suddenly, he found himself struggling to press down the impulsive urge to flee.

As if it had all been but a mirage of a muddled mind, the young master’s face smoothed itself into a familiar, tender smile. The youth said in his usual, soft-spoken voice, “I trust you have been well, Walan.”

Still somewhat unsettled and disturbed, Walan rushed to reply, “Yes, yes. I have been…very well, esteemed young master. This humble servant thanks you for your concern.”

“And your two sisters and nephew back home? Are they well?”

Walan was about to reply when the words suddenly died in his mouth. He never remembered talking to the young master about his family. He certainly never asked about them before. So, how did he know that Walan had two sisters and a nephew? Was it esteemed Dasiri that told him in passing?

The frown that appeared on Walan’s anxious face was all too visible to Yuer, who turned away from him to continue his way into the Dasiri’s quarters. However, right before he entered, he threw few words at the confused servant, “Make sure you take good care of them. No one knows what tomorrow might bring.”

The cryptic warning resounded through Walan’s puzzled mind even as he followed the young master into his mistress’s outer chamber. An unexplainable sense of disquiet took hold of him.

When Yuer stepped into the room, he was confronted with the familiar image of his clan’s Dasiri, gracefully leaning back on her cushioned recliner. Every inch of her posture evoked the imagery of an imperious female ruler unbothered by her dominion. Her dark hair, tasteful accessories and elegant robes were as impeccable as he had always remembered them. That dignified, slightly haughty and uncaring air about her was exactly as he had always known it. He stood silent for a moment, letting his gaze take in this poisonous, cannibalistic Ugafir flower in the shape of a woman. He swallowed down the rage and the hate that warred to burn his throat at the sight of her.

“Good afternoon, consort mother.” greeted Yuer with a slight bow. The once familiar and intimate address slipped out of his mouth seamlessly.

Akra looked up; her almond-shaped dark eyes openly studying her bonded’s second son. She then acknowledged his greeting with small, casual nod, “Come sit. I have something to show you.”

She clapped her hands once and a slew of servants shuffled into the room from the side hall. Each servant held a darkwood tray in their hands, displaying several matching items of a single clothing set. Yuer glanced at the deep, dark red brocade on one of the trays and held back the unsightly, absurd smile that wanted to break across his face.

Akra glanced back at him, a smile tagging at her lightly rouged lips. “This is your set of ceremonial robes for the harem Selection. I had it ordered during your coming of age ceremony. It took the tailors nearly four months to finish it. Take a look.”

Yuer didn’t. He chose to remain in his seat as he put on a well-maintained mask of agreeability, “I trust consort mother. In matters of taste, I cannot compare to your esteemed self.”

Akra sighed, “Well, if you don’t wish to see it. I won’t force you.” She threw Walan a meaningful glance and the latter jumped to dismiss the servants.

She then turned back to Yuer and said, “I trust your dance training has been completed.”

The image of his once swollen and blistered toes flashed in the youth’s mind before he softly replied, “Yes, consort mother. I have already memorized the entire routine.”

“Good, good. We will go through it one last time tomorrow.” She took a sip from her tea cup and stated, “There isn’t much time left and there are some things that I have yet to talk to you about.”

Yuer produced an impeccably clueless expression as he asked, “What things might they be?”

“As you are already aware, The Malhada has established his own harem years ago. At the moment, he has four concubines from Dasrari lineage in his palace. One of which is the illegitimate daughter of the Reznali court’s War Chief. She, Lashia of the Mavali clan, had already bore his highness his first-born son. You must adopt that child and raise him under your name. It doesn’t matter if she agrees to it or not, you will be the Malhada’s official and only consort, what you wish to happen, happens. Your authority is only second to that of his highness; you must never let the harem forget this one fact.”

Yuer nodded gravely, pretending to mull over Akra’s imparted ‘wisdom’ to him. In the back of his mind, he wondered what sort of face this woman would pull if she realized he had no intentions or whatsoever to bond this Malhada of hers.

Akra, on her part, seemed to be satisfied with his silent acknowledgement and went ahead to broach another topic, “Your elder brother is still occupied with his task of overseeing our fiefdom so he might not make it to the harem Selection. Do not hold it against him.”

Yuer nearly snorted but made it in time, hiding his derision behind a convenient cough. This elder brother of his was Akra’s biological son and the heir of the Ayaseen clan. The clan’s fiefdom was located to the east of the capital where the province of the same namesake as their clan sat bordered by the Sarine River. The Ayaseen residence in the capital wasn’t the official clan residence, but rather a secondary one. Naer Ayaseen relocated his immediate family to the capital some years ago because the Rezas had promoted him to the position of Agriculture Chief Assistant in his court. Naer’s eldest son and undisputed heir, Kharis, stayed behind to fill the shoes of his absent sire.

In his past life, Yuer might have been ignorant of many things but there was one thing that had always been made apparent to him. His Alikana-mark notwithstanding, his existence would never amount to that of his half-brother. Kharis was the sun that rose and fell in both of his parents’ eyes. Stalwart, intelligent and blessed with a Water Echo mark, Kharis was indispensable to the Ayaseen clan. To Akra and Naer, Kharis was the priceless treasure that one wouldn’t dare to part with while Yuer was the gold-coated ornament that one would barter away once the need called.

As Yuer thought back on it, he failed to dredge up any feelings of jealousy toward Kharis or grief toward his Naer’s lackluster treatment of him. He realized at this moment how utterly detached he felt from his sire, his brother and the entire Ayaseen clan. They could all burn in the hottest pits of fire right in front of him and Yuer wouldn’t raise a finger.

Relieved and somewhat reassured by his total lack of empathy toward these people, Yuer smiled as he spoke, “Of course. Elder brother’s task is paramount. Your and sire’s presence will be more than enough to ease my nerves.” He then went ahead to plea, “Consort mother, I wish to stroll through the Merchant District tomorrow morning. This will be the last time I would walk about freely as an unbounded youth. There is a certain bookstore I would love to visit. Please grant your son this one wish.”

Akra smiled, albeit lightly, “Sure. Don’t forget to take your servant with you. I grant you permission to use my side carriage so don’t hesitate to take it.”

Yuer’s face lit up. He rose to his feet and offered Akra a grateful bow, “I thank consort mother for her magnanimity.”

She let out a flustered chuckle, feigning humility, “This child. Others would think I gifted you the world.”

She then slipped her hand into the inner pocket of her sash and beckoned Walan with the tip of her fine, shapely chin. The servant dashed to his mistress, receiving a small pouch into his hands. He walked to Yuer and offered it to him with a bowed head.

Akra encouraged, “Take it. It is for your books. Buy as many as you wish.”

Shortly after, she dismissed Yuer with a wave of her slender, well-manicured hands, “You can go back now.”

Yuer took the money pouch and bowed once more to Akra, assuming his act of unabashed gratitude, “Many thanks to consort mother.” He then turned around and walked out of her quarters.

After Yuer left, Akra stared unseeingly at her tea cup for a while. At last, she spoke, “This tea has grown cold and tasteless. Get me a fresh pot.”

As Walan rushed to obey, his mistress halted him in his steps with another order, “Tell Zarat to tail the boy once he leaves tomorrow.”

“Of course, esteemed Dasiri.”

Once he returned to his own quarters, Yuer sat in his desk and dipped his brush into the small ink urn. He glanced briefly at the empty bed before returning to his task. He used his memory of his visit to the Undercity to draw an outline of its main street. He marked the building which used to serve as Lone Eye’s office with a dot. He let the paper rest and looked at the bed, “Would you like to come out now?”

A moment of silence greeted him before bony, little arms crawled from underneath the bed. Soon enough, the Valquari child stood, his hands nervously twisting around his over-sized tunic.

Yuer beckoned him over, “Come.” The little boy waddled his way to the older youth. Once he reached him, Yuer hoisted the child up, settling his gaunt figure upon his lap.

He pushed put away the still drying map and spread another clean sheet of paper. He took the brush and placed it between the child’s fingers, “Would you like to learn how to write?”

The child looked up at Yuer, confused. The latter let out a small chuckle before closing his hand over the boy’s and guiding the strokes of his brush. A moment later, smeared and uneven characters appeared against the stark white of the paper.

Yuer explained, “This is my name, Yuer. These characters are as follows Y-u-e-r. What is yours?”

The child stared at the wet ink for a while; his eyes held a mixture of awe and what looked like apprehension. At last, he vehemently shook his little head.

Yuer patiently probed, “You don’t have a name? Or is it that you don’t want to learn to write?”

The child kept shaking his head. Yuer tried again, rewording his question, “Did someone tell you that you can’t learn to write?”

The little boy suddenly stopped shaking his head; his hand which was still clasped within Yuer’s trembled slightly. The older youth realized he must have guessed correctly, “Was it your mother, perhaps?”

The child replied with a weak, shaky nod.

“Did she abandon you to that man?” asked Yuer, referring to Lone Eye.

The boy, as if suddenly drenched in icy water, started to violently tremble. The sound of his teeth clattering against one other grew more and more frantic.

Yuer recognized this behavior so he didn’t hesitate to hold the little boy to his chest. He run his hands across the little boy’s back, trying to soothe him. At the same time, he didn’t stop whispering the same words over and over again, “It’s alright. That man is gone. He can never touch you again. You are safe.”

Yuer didn’t know for how long he sat there, holding the child but he did noticed that the boy no longer trembled as furiously as he did before. Instead, little hiccups came out of him. The older youth could feel the hot, teardrops as they gathered on the exposed skin of his neck. He didn’t say anything and kept patting the boy’s back, letting him cry out his fear, pain and sorrow.

A while later, the child lifted his head up, peering at Yuer. The latter met his tearful gaze with a warm, gentle smile, “Now that you have finished crying, let us go back to our lesson. I will teach you to read and write so that one day you can write your own name for me, would you like that?”

The child wiped his face with the long sleeves of his tunic and slowly nodded.

Yuer chuckled, “Good. You will stay with me for now. Tomorrow, I will buy you a soft collar so that the city guards won’t pry into your identity. You can pretend to be my servant until you are old enough to decide what you wish to do.”

The little boy responded by tentatively taking the brush back into his hand and offering Yuer the tiniest, most precious smile.

Yuer’s frigid heart melted a little at the sight of that brave, sweet little smile. He caressed the child’s tearstained cheek and said, “You are strongest little boy I have ever met.”

The older youth then went back to guiding the child through the Semani characters. The pair lost sense of time, engrossed their task until their little writing session was interrupted by a shuffling, yawning Hasha.

She didn’t bother to bow to Yuer and dropped herself unceremoniously on his bed.

“It’s almost sunset, couldn’t sleep anymore.” said the Mesrin youth as a way of greeting.

Yuer glanced at his window, noticing the streaks of orange that painted the late afternoon sky. He gently put the child down and rummaged through the mess of papers on his desk. He eventually brought out three sheets, rolled them up and tightened them with several strings of thin fabric.

He then strode toward Hasha and instructed her to stay still. He summoned his Light Echo and enveloped the redhead’s body in a white haze. Some moments later, Yuer recalled back his Echo and threw the now patched-up redhead the scrolls he was holding.

She swiftly caught them in her hand and asked in Mesrin, “The portrait?”

“Yes and a map. The map is an outline of the main street. I only sketched what I could remember so it is incomplete. I marked down the office of Lone Eye for you. You should check around it first. Tamine might be loitering around that area. The third paper is a list of instructions. They are written in simple Mesrin. You must learn them by heart before you leave. Burn the paper once you are done memorizing its content.”

“Duly noted.” acknowledged Hasha.

Yuer reminded her, “To get in, simply pretend that you are a commissioned mercenary that came to close a deal with Lone Eye. Pretend that you don’t know he is dead. Just drop his code name at the door and the guards are likely to let you in. Be careful. The Shakoura should be investigating his death and they might let you in just because they are suspicious of you, so up your acting skills. If that doesn’t work, find some other way.”

Hasha nodded and lazily rose to her feet, “I can’t just go in like this. I need new clothes and weapons in case I exhaust my Echo.”

Yuer responded by walking to his dressing table and pulling out three silver pieces. He handed the coins to Hasha, who, for some reason, felt compelled to bite on them.

The youth fixed her with a blank stare and the latter huffed, feeling aggrieved, “What? I had to check if it’s real silver.”

Yuer sighed, “Get going.”

The Mesrin girl dragged her feet to the doors. Before she was about to leave, she glanced back at the little Valquari child standing next to Yuer, “I saw this kid in the carriage before. Is he your long lost child or something? Who would have guessed that Valquari girls were your thing. You certainly don’t look like it.”

Yuer walked to the redhead, pushed her out of the room and closed the sliding doors in her face.