'So Khehlun doubles as a swordsmanship instructor.' Yanis thought briefly; he felt that more formal sword practice was too stiff for anything that he felt he could do well, but disregarding that, Quintin wasn't half bad, 'Hardly surprising that he is Quintin's swordsmanship instructor after he gave that passionate sermon.'
Meanwhile, Quintin adjusted his stance and swung. The blade wave forced through the air and Khehlun watched without commenting.
Quintin swung again, differently this time and now Khehlun shook his head.
The man uncrossed his arms, took the practice blade from him and demonstrated the same swing, then he returned it. As Quintin gripped it, Khehlun tucked his elbow slightly again and then had him very slowly telegraph the swing.
"You have been rather distracted today. You are being sloppy." Khehlun said bluntly after Quintin completed the swing well enough, and his voice carried across the quiet courtyard.
Quintin didn't say anything, only silently catching his breath.
"I understand your anxieties," Khehlun continued, crossing his arms again, "however, reality remains that a crown is a heavy thing, Quintin. If you allow the encumbrance of it affect you, it will break your back. Do not confuse yourself with it." He shook his head slightly, "The man wearing it, in each cycle, will eventually perish. And the throne will continue to thrive. That separation will be crucial for your maintenance of self."
Quintin adjusted his footing without saying anything back, and he repeated the motion that he had just done. Khehlun did not press the topic, and watched him through the swing before giving a single, short nod.
'Must be nice to be buddy-buddy with the big scary guy,' Yanis thought distantly, and then briefly wondered, 'Does he get any special privileges thanks to being on a first-name basis with the Emperor?'
Yanis, for a moment, let his mind wander, thinking freely about the unorthodox benefits a Commander might enjoy from being so close to an Emperor. A myriad of things immediately rolled to mind:
'Better quarters that didn't smell of any of the foul smelling men who might have had it before, finer, warm food, wine that hadn't been diluted, armour and clothing that didn't threaten to pinch off his balls, sheets that had been washed, immunity from night and morning rotations, the right to spit on a captain's face, the luxury of shitting alone, the passion of women who didn't charge and the effort of women who charged but made every coin feel worth it, and perhaps, most enviably, at the very top of this disgraceful heap of imagined comforts, the right to correct the Emperor's swordplay, berate him for being sloppy and walk away with his neck intact.'
Suddenly, Yanis was snapped out of his wildness as Khehlun, while Quintin was mid-motion for another swing, turned his head and met his gaze.
Khehlun gave a brief acknowledging nod, and Yanis gave his back a moment later.
'I've overstayed my welcome…' He turned ahead and continued with his patrol.
For a long while, he almost robotically went through the motions of the patrol. With so many other guards wandering, he couldn't, without reason, simply abandon post to go information hunting lest another captain find him, or worse, the zealous Khehlun, and he face untold consequences, so he postponed it to later into the night, where hopefully, he could sift through as much of Alonellónë as he could for anything that would help him.
Then after a long time, on his umpteenth circuit - the exact number had long been lost in the swamped mess of his thoughts - he was brought back to reality.
Quintin, who had changed out of his training garments, was wearing something more quietly regal.
He walked coming from the direction that he was headed, with a young woman in servant's dress. Her dark hair was pinned back from her face into a neat bun, and she had been speaking to Quintin at a hushed volume as they approached him. He strangely couldn't hear whatever it was that she had said, not even a whisper of it.
His brows ever so faintly creased, 'Is she awakened as well?' he wondered. If she was, she certainly did not give it away as easily as Khehlun.
Yanis stepped aside to let them pass, and the young woman stopped talking as he forced the position a guard was supposed to take when royalty moved through, but Quintin slowed as they passed one another.
"You are a new face. Are you one of the newly hired mercenaries?" Quintin's eyes moved over Yanis's armour, his posture and the way his hand rested near his sword. There was a careful assessment in the look he gave, "They assigned you to evening patrol?"
'So, he did not notice me.' The thought flitted.
"Yes, Your Majesty." Yanis said as he glanced briefly at the young woman standing half a step beside the young emperor; he had vaguely noticed that her hands were stained with the vestiges of ink, as if she had just recently tried to wash her hands; there was even a faint blotch of it on the pale of her neck.
Yanis caught a concealed wariness and curiosity in her gaze as he quickly glanced back to Quintin, "I am amongst those patrolling the eastern wing tonight."
He took a slightly deeper breath in the moments of silence after his reply, 'Is she a personal maid? They seem close.'
"Hm…" Quintin eyed him deeply for a silent moment. Then he continued walking, "Walk with us. I wish to see how the chapel preparations are coming along, and I would like fresh company."
It wasn't really a request, so Yanis fell into step, slightly behind Quintin's personal maid as they moved through the corridors.
Torchlight, as the evening encroached, played across the walls illuminating the art pieces and murals. For a while, Yanis continued to only silently follow them, searching through deep graves for the effort to put on his best act as a guard. Being at least that diligent was the only way to properly appreciate this wonderful opportunity.
"The coronation schedule arrived this morning, " The young woman said, addressing Quintin is a voice that was still slightly hushed, Yanis. "I noticed High Priest Hiang has added another hour of observances before the ceremony in the Sanctum."
'She's quite untrusting,' Yanis stifled the faint smile as he only allowed his glance to linger over her for a moment. 'But I can't blame her at all.'
"I am sure it is something we both expected of him, Jhela." Quintin's voice was dry. "The man seems convinced that the Emperor's Blessing requires proportional amounts of kneeling to its history. It is an unfortunate consumption of time when I could be attending to something more urgent."
"Observances are traditional, your Majesty." Jhela spoke in defence of the priest.
"Everything is traditional. That is rather the problem." Quintin shook his head. However, thereupon, Yanis almost cursed himself as Quintin's attention fell onto him, "You are wondering why I'm complaining beside a guard I have only just met."
Yanis didn't say anything, and his countenance didn't waver, however there was an unfortunate issue. He, honestly, truly, fully, entirely and wholly, wanted nothing at all to do with the prickliness of their budding argument.
'Your High Priest has given you another hour of observances. Just do the damn observances, and if you really don't want to, then let us instead talk about what you might have in Alonellónë or what you might have done that would warrant an assassination of you and a purge of everyone in here. Better yet! We could discuss an evacuation. That way, you are freed of observances, and I survive and regain my freedom.' Were the rolling stones of thoughts that he had, and he caught himself mid way through them. The looseness of his thoughts had caught even himself off guard.
"I wouldn't presume to wonder anything, Your Majesty." Was what he said courteously.
Quintin didn't respond for a few seconds, then he shook his head faintly, almost in disappointment, "Everyone gives diplomatic answers."
Thereupon, Quintin's mouth faintly rose at a corner.
He was quiet for a moment, his gaze resting on Yanis and to him, it felt quite unsettling how rather than Quintin looking at him, it felt like he was listening through him, then he spoke compounding Yanis's discomfort and having him faintly brush the leather of his swords pommel:
"However, I find it had to believe that is truly what you wish to say. I can tell you do not want anything from me."