A clenched murder weapon—a simple fist, really—belonging to none other than Il San, flew past Gin's left side of the head. If he had to count how many fists he had successfully avoided from that morning's mock combat, Gin would say that one was the only one. But, that fist from the Master wasn't the only one that assaulted the shriveled shrimp. Two more, one of which he couldn't avoid, brushed past the top of his head as he ducked. A flicker of hope had gripped Gin due to the successful dodges, but Il San had taken the duck as an invitation to lower himself as well and land the successful strike at his side.

Did it hurt? Well… Gin's already aching body wasn't in the mood to welcome more pain, but the fist his side received made him forget not only to breathe but his already hurting body. Thus, yes, it hurt very much. With little success, Gin stumbled and tried to right his balance but he was doubled over trying to avoid straightening up as if that would stop the pain’s assault on his body. It didn't, and he didn't have time to worry about it as Il San swept at his feet; again.

For ba's sake! Gin cursed, forced to jump but only managing a small wobble then ending on his arse.

"Fail," Il San announced.

The three days that went by rather uneventfully saw Gin clawing at his ears from the one-word announcements Il San had grown fond of. Even though he sported several bruises from the mock combats with his Master, Gin knew that the old man was going at snail's speed just so he could gain what fighting experience he could. Did he appreciate the effort? No, of course not. He had argued heavily, to a block of wood in the form of Il San, about his distaste for the idea of the mocks. He had, likewise, suffered from more grueling workouts for the supposed enrichment of his body and future mastery of the Arts.

That can all be ravaged by the Spider’s Plague for all the empty care I give it! Picking himself up, Gin glared at the Master. The one at the receiving end of the non-threatening gaze only straightened his back before sighing in obvious disappointment.

Mouth itching, Gin bit at his lip lest he said anything that would change his 8-foot deep grave to 10. He had no energy to try climbing over it as the week went by and new formulas of exercises and fighting stances were devised. Ah, yes, the new stances… Il San had gotten into giving Gin an all-rounded experience by removing body-centered stances to add spears, swords, etc, practices. Il San had never introduced fighting practices with weapons in the regimen he had suffered throughout the two months.

The repetitive nature of the previous exercises had Gin question whether the weapons in the training halls were for decoration. Il San had answered no, but he had added:

‘You will not be focusing on weaponry as of yet, and even if I did train you in weaponry it would be to have some familiarity to them, and learn how to defend against them with your body. The body is the key element in any fight, and by mastering it, nothing will shadow over it.’

‘Of course, until death overshadows you to an early grave. Master, I, in my truth of truths, believe that your logic is skewed. Survival is for the craftiest, not the... fittest…’ Gin gulped, unable to finish his sentence with his righteous bravado.

‘Let's test your survival, then. 50 laps, a push-up every after five steps. Slowing down awards you three more push-ups after every eight steps. Once done, the obstacles await you to do another 50 rounds there. That is for starters.’

The strangest thing about those instructions was, they were the same ones given when he ‘failed’ in the mock battles for the day. That being the case, as it was nearing afternoon, it was the right time for him to start said penalty. After, he was to return to his regular training routine, then end with another run. Gin didn't even want to think about the obstacles that had taken the servants 30 minutes to set up in the field. Crawling through tight spaces, falling and rolling on the ground severally as he tried to get from one end of the obstacles and back… Simply put? It was a long, long day ahead for young Gin.

By evening, with muscle pains as his miserable company, Gin was finishing a round of running in the huge training field. Though torturous, the excruciating exercises had made something of his body in such a short period. Running for longer and lifting heavier items were still his favorite changes. The mock combat didn’t have many positives in his books, well, other than the fact that his Master had silently agreed to keep his face away from the supposed ‘light’ beating.

Under the same topic, Il San had told him that, normally, mock combat would start in a week or so from training, but since his body was in such terrible condition, putting it lightly, if he had mock combat he would have been broken into pieces before they even began. Of course, even with that said he was still being broken into pieces. While panting, and eventually heaving, Gin stopped at the entrance of the Training Hall; the usual final destination of his day of training. He crawled into the Hall and laid down on the floor.

"Get up. Don't sleep on the floor after exercising. How many times do I have to tell you this?" Il San commanded.

Gin just waved his hand not caring to answer. He couldn’t even breathe well, how could he deign his time to catch his breath to answer such an unjust command. What could possibly go wrong with embracing the floor, the most stable thing in his life? Blood pooling? Stressing the heart? Hah!

Due to his inaudible protest, Gin wasn’t paying any attention to his surroundings. In the next second, a shadow was cast over him and he was lifted like a vegetable from a market stall. Gin could only stare as the floor got further away from him as he was made to stand. Giving up on the idea of posing a minuscule resistance, Gin stood there in a slouching posture.

"Do the cooldown exercises," Il San spoke and went to stand at one of the walls. His favorite spot.

"Master,” Gin swallowed thick saliva before panting and eventually talking again, “I feel we can really... really discuss things. Maybe a single day of rest-"

"Nonsense," Il San cut Gin off, "you haven't earned even a minute off. I think I'm being too soft. Humph!" Il San muttered the last bit as he gave his trademark glare towards Gin.

Feeling unperturbed, and more indignant, Gin glared back at his Master. Soft?! Soft?!! How exactly?!

From the first day of his training, he had only been able to sleep for four hours. His food had never improved but he ate anyway, he needed the energy or he would die! He hadn’t had any time to do anything else besides lifting things, running, and now mock combat for an entire day!

Which part of soft does this situation resemble? Gin fumed, he was starting to see red and his head became light-headed.

"We don't have time…" Il San continued his murmur.

"Master?" Gin asked after hearing his Master's voice. His light-headed state gradually worsened.

"Cool down. Concentrate on your breathing as you move," Il San commanded.

"Yes, sure, of course, I understand," Gin answered in a clipped tone but started breathing deeply and moving his limbs slowly into various stretch poses.

A good five minutes passed and Gin felt the light-headed state slowly pass. However, he felt as if his body was going to break into pieces. He knew in the coming morning, his body was going to be in a terrible state. The continuous training didn’t make him immune or love the muscle aches, the exercises got worse to keep his body in the constant state of ‘growth’. Apparently, if his muscles didn’t feel anything, something wasn’t being done right. While his inner complaints increased by second, a sudden noise interrupted his thought process.

Gong!

Gong!

Gong!

A loud banging from outside attracted Gin’s attention. He stopped doing his exercises and walked slowly to the open screens of the Training Hall where his Master had migrated to at some point. He couldn't see what was making the noise, but the noise didn't stop, and it got louder, closer. Surprised, Gin turned to look at Il San, however, the old geezer didn't seem bothered. No surprise or shock. Gin had to wonder if there was anything that made the man have any other reactions besides being stiff. Honestly, was there?

"Master," Spear's voice suddenly cropped up from behind them. Gin quickly looked back, and the first thing he noticed about the Legend was that he had a troubled look. It wasn't the one he used to act with whenever it suited him, it was real and genuine worry.

How would this be known by Gin? Because Spear actually wore such an expression in front of their Master. He didn't even wear that kind of face when he had confronted the spy, or when explaining why he needed money from his Master, situations where such a look would be a good addition. In those situations, he would have a righteous and humble look. Why wouldn’t he when he was doing it all for the good of the Master and the Distant Jade?

"The King’s Messengers." Il San said amidst the noise.

°°

To Gin, it sounded between an inquiry and a statement. Nonetheless, those words uttered were very important.

"Yes, they should be coming in now. We must head to the entrance to welcome them," Spear responded.

"Mm," with that, Il San pivoted and left the Hall.

Spear didn't follow the Master but waited for Gin to go along. And not knowing what to do or think, Gin rushed towards the door to follow Il San who was taking long strides out the building to get to the front yard. Because of the flurry of new developments, all body aches were forgotten as Gin deliberated how to turn his head to ask Spear what was going on.

He was rushing too quickly to have any confidence to lose his sight on the way ahead, and it would be too uncomfortable to have a conversation in such a manner, so he resisted. Another glaring issue was the noise that increased in volume the closer they got to the exit, it made it difficult to hear one another at that point.

As soon as they left the building, a procession of people in bright intricate clothing had stopped a little ways away from the Distant Jade. Their robes, and their arrangement, spotted green, blue, yellow; from the darkest shade at the front to the lightest at the back. Woven on their robes were different bedazzled embroidery that made them stand out even more. Despite the grand fanfare they caused, the group had no mode of transportation aside from their feet clad in high boots made of leather and silk finish. Besides the two individuals at the front who held scrolls and a pouch of sorts, the rest held gongs and sashes of their robes colors that they waved to and fro as they moved forward in rhythmic git.

The procession wasn’t like anything Gin had ever seen. The one done on the Celebration of the King's rule, or any other date of National significance, saw the green-robed individuals at the third row where those clad in yellow stood in the procession he was seeing. The yellow-robed individuals would take the green spot where green currently was. Blue, the lead bearer of the gong, would be replaced with red which represented the Conquering Era that strengthened the Hanbal Dynasty, and the Kingdom of Yerek and the dominions under it.

As Gin remained puzzled, the Master was already walking to the group of people without pause. Them as students could only follow for a while before stopping a distance away. When they had stopped, so had the procession and the only one left in motion was Il San as he made it to the three people at the front of the row.

After Il San had stopped too, the woman in the deepest shade of green began in a booming voice:

"In the name of our King! She who is merciful, caring, and knowledgeable! We hereby come to deliver this summons by the orders of our King!"

Gong!

Gong!

Gong!

After the shocking words voiced with vigor, the sounds of the gongs rang out leaving no time for thoughts or formalities of any kind. Gin had his eyes wide while Spear had a frown curving deeply into his brow. As his students gathered themselves, Il San neared the messenger and had a scroll handed to him. The woman had been holding two of them, but they had different colors. The green one remained in the messenger's hand and the blue one was handed to Il San.

When the exchange was done, the two stood rim rod straight while still facing each other. A second later, they simultaneously opened the scrolls and stayed silent. No one moved or made a sound. Just when Gin thought that that would be all, the woman's voice boomed again.

"The summons hereby states; By the invitation of our King, Gin Ena of the Ena family is to visit the Royal Palace a fortnight from today! His presence shall be in the company of the great former Chief of Palace Defense, Il San of the Distant Jade! May this will be obeyed!"

Gong!

Gong!

Gong!

"I, Il San of the Distant Jade, humbly accept the summons, and I will personally take it upon myself to accompany my student, Gin Ena of the Ena family to fulfill the glorious invitation of our great King! We are honored by this glorious invitation! The will shall be obeyed!"

Gong!

Gong!

Gong!

With that out of the way, the two closed the scrolls at the same time, and Il San proceeded to give back the scroll. The woman took the scroll and stepped back. She was quickly replaced by a young girl in a robe of the deepest shade of blue, the one that was holding the pouch. While positioning herself in front of Il San, she quickly pulled out a jade plate that wasn't as small as her hand since it seemed to be slightly larger than her palm. Il San and the girl bowed simultaneously as the jade plate made an exchange of hands, the jade plate became small in Il San’s hand, but it was nonetheless still visible.

Short and straightforward, the summons ceremony ended. As noisily as the procession had arrived, they left in the same manner. The group's procession was stable, not too fast or too slow. The flowing sashes in tune with the gong sounds were the only things moving vigorously. Eventually, they disappeared from view and left the Distant Jade in a familiar quiet.

As if someone had opened a lid from their chests, the three individuals released their held breaths in silent succession.

Did the summons come as a surprise to Gin? To a large extent, yes, very much so. When the messenger had mentioned his name, his heart had performed the most erratic beating. The loud boom from the organ rivaled the impact of the gongs, and Gin had thought he would have perished. The quiet days had been very peaceful, and he had deluded himself well enough to have put any worries with the Royals to the furthest part of his head.

However, the surprise, the erratic heartbeat, and the growing apprehension had stopped just as quickly as it had come when Gin thought of why he shouldn’t be reacting to the point of his death. Gin knew that the servant’s movements would have brought about something. The Divine Art, 5 Legends, and his Master were closely tied to the Noble Ward, to the Royals. And the spy was a uniting factor of all these elements in regards to himself, so Gin believed he would have tangled with the King and Nobel's at some point. Yet, he didn't expect that said progression would have been done in such an exaggerated manner of a summons! That was truly unfathomable!

The longer I mingle with these people, the more my eyes are opened to a world of glamorous trouble… Gin sighed bitterly.

Turning to face his students, Il San gave out instructions to Spear to prepare for the visit to the Royal Capital. Spear had quickly gathered his thoughts and brooding. Spear bowed obediently and expressed his understanding to the Master’s words and left his presence. As he made his way into the three-storey estate, Spear started to plan the housing details, clothes, the servants for the upcoming trip, and, of course, the gifts for their host.

Aside from this, however, what held Spear’s attention was his urgent need to have a slight chat with the King about subtle etiquette. Did she have to use grandiose summoning ceremonies for a paragraph of writing she could have sent over a Royal Black Dove? The noise, the rackets, and, admittedly, the shocking invite, were pollution and disturbances of the highest proportions. Spear clicked his tongue as he reverted to planning.

Meanwhile, back at the front yard, Gin stood at attention when Il San's gaze had landed on him.

"Back to training. There is still more than enough time before our departure. We must take advantage of this time," after finishing his observations, Il San placed his hands at his back and walked past a baffled Gin.