The batter of Kyuhe’s stingray boots reverberated off the green piāofú shí-embedded walls like thunder as he strode across the room, looking into the faces of his soldiers with a stern, analyzing gaze. With their faces shrouded behind shé masks, they wore tightly clasped long woolen cloaks to shield them from the abrasive winds that graced their small kingdom of Bilithgorn. It’ll be easy for an outsider to assume that the eyes that stared back at his were cold like a machine, void of any emotion. However, that wasn’t what Kyuhe saw at all. The look in their eyes were as vibrant with not only life, but also with ambition and conviction. Many of them had gone through years of training in anticipation of this mission for one reason - providing for their families - and for that, they had his respect.

“Is everything ready, Commander Song?” a familiar voice asked. One might think that the voice would prompt an inkling of familial fondness, considering that the woman who voiced her question was his cousin, but instead, a burst of uneasiness swelled within him.

Ever since the Red Panther incident ten years prior with the Bilithgoric nobility, any sort of familial love he’s held for her was thrown to the Sacred Wind and replaced with constant discomfort whenever she grew near. Right now, it was no more different.

Following his troops’ leads, he placed an invisible mask over his face and concealed his fear. This morn has not been easy and it’s best to not arouse the Tigress’s already paper-thin temper. “Yes, my Hǔ Huáng Hòu,” Kyuhe replied with coolness, turning to her.

Hǔ Huáng Hòu Xiùyīng might’ve naturally had the desired royal Bilithgoric looks that Kyuhe had seen millions of palace women trying their damndest to obtain as a boy – porcelain white skin, almond-shaped eyes of grey and long black hair flowing gracefully down layers of Setrkyese kakory silk – but she was far from resembling the likeness of the heavenly maidens of old. The crown was a circlet of carved jade and looked like the lower jaw of a tiger, but neither the intimidating crown nor the scar that forever left its mark on the left side of her face was what made Kyuhe nervous either. It was her vile temper, and Kyuhe knew that no one was a better representation of her despicable deportment than the crowned prince who was standing beside her, watching the send-off take place.

Kǎi, the crowned prince, was also the Weapon Wielder of their country, Bilithgorn, but instead of emitting an air of royalty and divinity, the only thing he emitted was the fear of a mouse in the presence of a cat. Xiùyīng wouldn’t have their relationship any other way, constantly saying, “to better control him with,” but that only made Kyuhe’s heart go out to his younger cousin even more as his joke-loving, creative personality being suppressed by his mother’s attendance. Thankfully for the young man’s sanity though, he didn’t inherit any of Xiùyīng’s features and resembled only his father: a darker shade of complexion like that of a Navi who worked their entire life outside under the sun’s harsh gaze, long dark brown hair that cascaded down his muscular build and small cloud-grey eyes.

Rumors on the identity of the crowned prince’s father had swarmed throughout the palace’s walls in hushed voices for as long as the child has been alive, but only voiced among the maids and the higher-ups once either the crown prince or the Hǔ Huáng Hòu were long out of earshot. Personally, Kyuhe subscribed to the theory that the boy’s father was Commander Fēng of the Bilithgoric army. Most who doubt the theory’s validity claim the fact that both the Army Commander and the crowned prince shared the same last name wasn’t enough evidence, considering a lot of people in Bilithgorn share the same last name, but those fools have not caught a glimpse of the man or how the two interacted. Both of them bore a striking amount of physical similarity to one another and had a father-son-like relationship with Commander Fēng arriving to the palace after seasons of training in the north with new cookbooks-in-hand for Kǎi who happily accepted the gift as though he physically needed the book.

But, if Commander Fēng truly was Kǎi’s father, then why wouldn’t he save his son from this situation? Was something holding him back? Or did he just not care? That conundrum always puzzled Kyuhe and made him second guess his belief in the theory.

As though in much thought, Hǔ Huáng Hòu Xiùyīng finally nodded her head. “Good.” She carefully strolled over to Kyuhe’s soldiers and surveyed each and every one of them as she walked side to side. “I will like to inform you all of something before you go. Just a small reminder.” She let out a chuckle and playfully tapped the masks. “If I receive word that there is an ounce of perfidious within any of your ranks, not only will the traitor’s family not receive their extra rations and money,” she suddenly grabbed the closest soldier by the throat and sunk all five of her talon-like nails into their flesh, “but also everyone else’s families will have a spear rammed up their asses and displayed in the capital’s square like those dissenters. Do I make myself clear?”

Kyuhe was about to burst into a rage, however, upon seeing every one of his soldiers nodding their heads vigorously with horror-filled eyes, his anger suddenly simmered down. With a smile her face, the Tigress released her hold of the innocent solider and allowed the fabric to slip through her talons-like finger nails like running water; she turned over to Commander Song with the usual glare she wore and said, “Let them out. I’m tired of waiting.”

He gritted his teeth. If he allowed his fury to show itself, that’ll spell disaster for not only himself but for his troops as well. Not only did they not deserve that, but he too had much at stake for it to simply go all to waste now. His steel-grey eyes narrowed begrudgingly as he bowed. “As you wish, my Hǔ Huáng Hòu,” Kyuhe replied.

Just like his cousin ordered, he walked forward and, with each of his fingers bejeweled with larger cuts of piāofú, whose lusty greenish hue radiated beyond their crystalline forms, Kyuhe tore away at the air with the slight clench of his fists that greatly resembled the harsh imagery of a tiger’s claw; subservient to his movements, the green-speckled bricks that formed the wall levitated into the air and revealed the world outside the palace.

The sun was high, but its warm touch was disrupted by the gust of cold, winter air. It was like a feather, trying its hardest to make him shiver but Kyuhe wouldn’t yield. Admittedly though, it was a mighty foe, able to slip past the dense layers of his báonuǎn shí-bedecked silks and lion-wolf furs that showered him in what felt like an eternal fire and strike him to the very bone like an ice serpent, but he merely acted as though it was but a cool, summer’s breeze instead.

A sudden delight filled his nose of what smelled like southern Tilithian spices. Quite savory and strong with a hint of sweetness, Kyuhe quickly noted before he returned his attention to his soldiers. One after another, he watched as they walked through his aperture, scaled the high palace walls and into the dense forest over yonder. It was quite saddening to see them go, but Kyuhe had done everything that he could. All they had to do was remember their training.

As he drew his bejeweled hands near one another, the bricks that once levitated themselves in the air began to return to their original placement upon the wall. It was almost like a puzzle, with the smaller pieces working together with one another to refill in the whole picture.

Sudden reverberations of boots clopping against the brick floor resembled that of horse shoes and they became more distant with each continuous clop; layers of silk fluttered along diligently like a pet. “Come, Kǎi,” Hǔ Huáng Hòu Xiùyīng ordered with sudden irritation. “Let’s go train.”

Despite the word’s usage, she wasn’t fooling anyone. It was clear from the numerous scars that littered the Weapon Wielder of Bilithgorn’s back that “training” was the last thing that occurred. Surprisingly, however, the crowned prince didn’t respond in the usual low, soft voice that was reserved for his mother. Frankly, he didn’t respond at all. No quick shift of footwork bounced off the walls either.

Is Kǎi actually defying his mother? Is this the moment where he’ll finally say that two simple two-lettered word? Wanting to bear witness to this moment, Kyuhe turned his head ever so slightly, just enough for him to watch from the corner of his eye but not so noticeable that Xiùyīng would notice.

Hopefully.

Covered in heavy panther-bear furs and golden-embroidered silks that wrapped around his body in a layered robe that reached down to his feet, the crowned prince stared down at the floor, his hands trembling with fear and tears beginning to sprout. By the time the plan goes into action in a little over a fortnight, he’ll be eighteen, but in the presence of his mother like he was now, he reverted to a terrified child who still clung to his clothes for comfort. It was clear that he was scared out of his wits but nonetheless, he stood–

A sudden dagger flew like a wind-rider and left a slash that ran from the edge of Kyuhe’s ear to the crease of his nose. “Mind your own business, Commander Song,” Hǔ Huáng Hòu Xiùyīng roared viciously.

Groaning, Commander Song clasped the left side of his face in pain. Bursts of blood gush down his front like a waterfall, slipping between the cracks of his fingers. However, none of that mattered right now. His stomach ached, running along with the thump, thump, thump, thump of his heart, as he feared what will become of him. Is this only the beginning of the end? Will Xiùyīng order an investigation that’ll unearth his involvement with the rebels? With Kwane and them? Anything was possible with someone as paranoid and unpredictable as the Tigress, Kyuhe knew.

A single clop of a boot echoed behind him.

“F-forgive me, mā,” a whisper-like voice spoke, welled with much fright, but as the ditty of footwork, quick as the wind, bounced off the walls, the voice continued, “It seems a-as though I was in a bit of a daze and unable to hear your voice. A million pardons. C-come. Let’s go train. Forget about cousin.”

“Hmph,” was the only response the Hǔ Huáng Hòu gave; a low grunt that barely restrained her wild temper. It wasn’t a mystery as to what she had in store for Kǎi.