Lo, the life of the young illegitimate prince did now begin to shift as the tide doth turn with each dawn. Diverse tutors arrived—wise men and learned dames—who set themselves to teach him the arts of reading and writing; others versed in the tales of old, in history and the subtle craft of politics. Yet more came to guide him in speech and bearing, to teach the lad how to walk with grace and hold himself as a noble ought.
These instructors, harsh and stern as they were to Achreos before, did now bear no scorn upon the lad, but followed faithfully the command of the Grand Duke.
Thus did his lessons begin—one following upon the heels of another—starting from the first light after breakfast, stretching long till the sun hung low, about five or six hours past midday.
The slow change had begun, and with it, the lad's world grew vast and strange.
Achreos did enter the Ruby Palace, accompanied by a man of noble mien—tall, with skin pale as the dawn's first light, and eyes agleam like molten amber, deep and bright. A servant, did escort them through the winding halls to the garden where vecillious did await, as was his wont.
Beneath the boughs heavy with blossoms, achreos did introduce the man by his side, saying thus:
"Behold Adrian, my master and guide; he who first did teach me the wielding of the sword. From the morrow, 'tis he who shall be thy teacher, Vecillious. Take heed and learn, as I have learned."
Vecillious greeted him and with courteous grace, the young lad and the man then exchanged a few words. Anon Adrian's lips curled into a smile most rare, and he spake softly:
"Shall we, this day, take flight upon an adventure?"
With that, he led the youths forth, slipping past the palace gates as shadows grew long. The winter's chill did creep upon the land, and the sun did sink low, casting a golden veil o'er the world. A festival was stirring, its mirth and music rising upon the cool air.
Thus they journeyed, not as master nor pupil, but as three souls bound for what wonder the night might bring.
Ere long, the festival did awaken once more in that very place where the two lads had first made acquaintance. The scene, though familiar, bore subtle change—for life's course had not turned wholly, yet they no longer walked alone, but beneath the watchful eye of a man grown and steadfast.
The grown-ups joined in, same as the children, though with slower steps and heavier breath. Some took to the wrestling ring, their laughter louder than their falls. Others waited their turn with the bow, or bent to lift stones just to see if their strength still answered. There were no proud faces, no sharp tongues. A cheer rose for each, whether the shot was straight or the stone barely moved.
It wasn't for show, nor for proving anything. It was just the joy of the doing — hands in the dust, feet firm on the earth, hearts light for a little while. And in that shared joy, they were all alike — young or old, low or high — bound by something simpler than name or rank.
The grown folk took to their games — some grappled in friendly bouts, some tried their aim with bow and stone, others tossed weight for sport. Their laughter came easy, their smiles unforced. There was no scorn, no harsh word spoken — only good cheer shared amongst them all.
Whiney Red's eyes did open wide, as he gazed upon the throng before him. There stood folk both low and high, their clothes plain, their faces bare of pride, as if for a moment all were kin. The air was full of laughter — clear, sharp, like the ringing of bells — and children ran free, calling and chasing in wild delight.
There Adrian and Acheros did their best to bring some joy to Vecillious' heart. They wandered here and there, delighting in the festival's mirth, until the moon climbed high and midnight's cloak settled soft upon the land. then, with cautious steps, they slipped back into the palace's quiet halls.
There Adrian bade the two lads farewell, his voice gentle but firm. Soon after, a hush fell between Vecillious and Acheros, and the younger spoke at last, clutching the sides of his cloak, his head down as ever.
"W-why dost thou do a-all this?
W-what s-seek'st thou from me?
'Tis not as if I have ought to o-offer."
Acheros lowered his eyes to meet the other's, soft and sure.
"Must there always be cause to aid one in pain?
Thou need'st not give nor do aught.
Think of me as thy brother.
Ahhh canst thou call me brother when we stand alone? And may I call thee Whiney Red?"
"W-whiney R-red, w-why" vecillious whispered eyes widened yet his cheeks flushed as he peeked up.
"Uhh that haha" he laughed gently.
"'Tis because thou art ever weeping, with cheeks the hue of a tomato, so may I?"
"Hmm," quoth Vecillious, casting his gaze downward unto the floor—his voice but a breath—as he murmured, "aye," in such wise, soft and unsure, his cheeks aflame with blush.
"Then shall I take my leave. Thou, too, shouldst find rest," spake Acheros, calm and composed.
Vecillious looked up, just a little startled. "I–Is it not—i–is it not far t–too late to depart?"
Acheros turned to him, a gentle smile upon his lips. "Wouldst thou have me stay?"
Whiney Red spake not—his hands did grasp at the sides of his raiment, fingers twisting, his gaze turned away from Acheros. Silence wrapt him close.
"If thou wilt it, I shall remain," quoth Acheros, soft of voice. "But only if thou sayest the word."
Perchance… that—Vecillious—nay, Vecillious felt something. Safe. At ease. As someone—something—when Acheros was nigh.
So, for the first time in all his life, he dared speak that which he truly did desire.
He looked downward, and slowly, softly, he said, "C–C–Canst th–thou s–stay?"
"Hah?" quoth Acheros with mirth, leaning close. "I heard thee not. Speak it again, prithee."
"C–Canst… C–Canst th–thou, I prithee, remain…"
"I trow I shan't hear it proper, not until thou dost call me brother, Whiney Red," Acheros said, still wearing that soft, knowing smile.
The two lads, when looking back, deemed foolish-sounding.
"C–Canst thou, I beseech thee, remain… brother?" whispered Whiney Red.
"I can," saith Acheros, smiling bright as daybreak.
"C–C–Canst thou… finish the tale of the young lad?" whispered Whiney Red, voice trembling like leaves in a timid wind.
For a moment, his smile faded, then came back, warm and sure again.
"Aye," he said at last, "then so be it."
And so the tale began.
.....To be continued