If anyone around Orron was found talking about a person who hated the very idea of youth, they would certainly be in the midst of a conversation regarding Rraos Arroxath. Even if personal details of this potential Arroxath heir weren’t by the general public, one detail that he never managed to hide was the fact that he believed his youth to be the single most useless thing in his possession. This belief baffled the old and the young alike, but, if anyone curious had the chance to ask the young man himself the reasoning behind this, they would find the answer to be quite simple.

  In Rraos’ own words, what could his youth do for him that wealth could not? If he had enough money, he could keep himself fit regardless of age, or even hire enough security to be outwardly safe. If he had enough money, he could choose from a good stratum of women to love too! And if he had enough money, there was nothing he couldn't do or get compared to what his youth could afford him. On the other hand, wealth never brought the burden of expectation that he should work hard and build his strength of character, of mind and body, and of whatever else people decided to tack onto this never-ending list. So why must he not disdain his youth?

  Such were the ideas of Rraos Arroxath.

  Rraos’ notions were always strange, and his gaze usually sharp. For an individual from the Altrakh continent, Rraos was also quite tall, being of a competitive height with the rest of his family. He loved being wealthy and having a high standing within the empire like most of his family too. But unlike any other Arroxath, Rraos placed a much greater emphasis on the spending of money, and on the balance between putting in effort, earning money, and spending money. The equation he relied on to guide him was thus – ‘The lesser the effort for the greater amount of income, the greater the value for being able to spend a greater sum’. Simply put, Rraos did not believe in working hard like the rest of his family. If he did work hard, when would he get the time to spend money? And if he did not get to spend money, why was he earning it in the first place? While these ideas may seem reasonable at a glance, they proved problematic for those around him, especially when coupled with his detachment towards many other aspects of life and of living. Only those painfully close to Rraos could see him for the totality of who he was, which amounted to a swindler born in a family of respected and learned merchants.

  Today was a special day for Rraos, just as it had been yesterday. Today was special because today, just like yesterday, had been spent wondering whether he himself was about to be swindled.

  The disaster may not happen on this very day, or even a few days after, but what about a few weeks later? What about a month later? Was this possibility of him being ripped off some divine retribution for making unfair trades and causing losses to people around him for all these years? More realistically, was this some sort of plan to get revenge on him by all the people he had manipulated for a profit, including his own family? Or was this a ploy by one of his siblings to eliminate him from the race of succession? If it was indeed a plot devised by one of them, then he dearly hoped he would come to know in time. He could personally give the perpetrator a written document declaring his intention of never becoming the next Arroxath head. Why would he even want to be the head, when he could be the stomach and digest all the profits of both his family and outsiders?

  Sitting on his black velvet adorned couch, Rraos released a deep sigh. It was the second day since his meeting with that accursed country brat; the second day now that Rraos was trying to add things up concerning that bumpkin, only for them to simply refuse to do so.

  From afar, the boy looked like a fool. On a closer look, some of what he said and some of what he did made him seem calculating. But closer than that, the flash of naivety also did not feel like an act. There was no simple way of understanding this displayed pattern.

  Besides, Rraos could tell the boy was strong. It almost felt surreal, the way he utilized Mayyux with simple words. He made it seem so easy! Was it easy?

  “Be limited!” Rraos intoned. There was a slight tug within him, but that was nowhere near enough to command his surroundings.

  Of course, that casual display of strength had not been an easy feat! Rraos felt a little silly, but he still made a mental note to ask one of the many Arroxath xamosa how impressive that feat of strength was.

  Vaguely tired and unsettled, Rraos sank back into the softness of his couch. These two days had been hard on Rraos. No matter how vigorously he had ransacked his brain in pursuit of the best explanation, he had come up with nothing beyond unstable speculations that fell apart under serious scrutiny. How did such a no-name boy acquire so much information?

  Right now, Rraos was simply unable to make his brain cook up a proper answer. Rraos was more likely to drive himself insane from worrying at this rate than arriving at any useful understanding. But did that mean he would give up? Not a chance!

  Rraos’ determination was firm. It had to be, since his preferred lifestyle was at stake! To prevent it from being snatched away by unfamiliar, clammy hands, he needed to start his mental investigation anew, preferably after a short break. It was important to begin in a calm and collected fashion.

  Rraos stood up from his couch and stretched himself. That felt wonderful after rolling around his sofa for so long.

  He shook his arms and legs a bit, then rummaged around the pockets of his baggy trousers. A large case of cigarettes and an ornate, expensive-looking lighter were fished out from there. Following that, a long cigarette was pulled out from the case and hung loosely between Rraos’ lips. Then, Rraos stopped moving.

  Rraos’ mind had unintentionally drifted away without any thought, and the cigarette hung precariously, forgotten by all but the soft muscles that kept it hanging. The mind emptied so fast and so well, within moments Rraos was in a primitive state. He saw without judging, felt without thinking; he became aware of his own heartbeat, aware of the feeling of air and the clothes he was wearing upon his skin, and of the faint smell of the same air touching his skin. Slowly, he was made aware of the feeling of cold metal pressing against his fingers and a cool floor against his feet. Then he felt an unnatural weight balanced between his lips.

  In an unexpected turnabout, Rraos had been made aware by his own body that he still was standing without having lit his cigarette.

  Rraos felt refreshed. He was more used to working his mind than his body, so these breaks to his mind were very welcome.

  Rraos now lit the cigarette, smoked a puff, then made an ash-bowl available for himself. Deciding against sitting back down immediately, he took another puff, then walked over to pour some cool and refreshing water from a glass jar directly onto his throat. Only after having finished drinking his fill did Rraos pour himself a drinking-glass full of water, which would be by any proper person done first. But Rraos did not care for such trivialities of mannerism in private, so he also carried his glass with the same hand he held his cigarette, while on the other one he held the ash-bowl.

  Rraos walked back to the sofa in the centre of his spacious room, deposited the ash-bowl and the drinking-glass upon the single-person smoking table in front of his sofa, then plopped down on the springy soft seat awaiting his return. He took another puff, then dropped off some ash at their designated destination.

  Rraos was now ready to think again – with a clear mind this time!

  Concerning the boy who called himself Jyevodirr, the first possibility was that he was bluffing. If that was the case, Rraos may have unintentionally ratted himself out. The boy had kept repeating that Rraos was not intending to be the heir at first. Only once Rraos had shown his reaction to this question did the boy go ahead and talk about other things. That could mean that Rraos had provided the answer Jyevodirr was looking for, after which the rest was more guesswork on the boy’s part.

  The only problem with this theory was that the boy did not seem to be of a very great standing in the society, so it made no sense to either gamble this relentlessly or to be this confident. He could never orchestrate everything from there onwards as someone well connected could. But supposing the boy was of a higher standing, there was no way Z’xalorr, who had been present with Rraos that evening, would not have been able to figure out who the boy was. As far as Rraos knew, Z’xalorr was currently looking into the boy and had found no special ties with any powerful group of people yet. Such a finding implied that the boy really should have no one controlling him, considering that Z’xalorr had even found the general region this boy had been born and brought up in, along with the route that had brought him to Orron.

  These problems led to the second possibility, where someone from Rraos’ own family had put the boy up to this nonsense. Such a thing was more plausible than the first for the simple reason that Jyevodirr seemed to know a lot about Rraos, but Rraos knew so little about Jyevodirr – even after two days of thorough background inquiry. That should not have been possible without someone in the family making sure Rraos was kept in the dark.

  Moving ahead with this logic, Jyevodirr knowing or suspecting about Rraos’ successional decisions meant that any of Rraos’ siblings being behind the whole business was just wishful thinking on Rraos’ part. If anyone could guess such a thing, it had to be his mother. She was the current head of the Arroxatha, in addition to being the person who could see through Rraos most clearly. If this theory were to be unfortunately true, Rraos would never be able to guess what she wanted to achieve until she was already successful at it.

  Any other possibility did not hold much water, for Rraos was a cautious man. While he did dupe people, he made sure to do so carefully. He either caused losses for his own family to make a profit himself, or he chose isolated people and businesses whose voice could easily be drowned out by a large mass of voices in his favour. This meant that no one could even keep spreading anything negative about him without being crushed by the masses. That was the reason Rraos had always made sure to keep up his appearances when he could, and keep his distance when he could not. It also helped that he was generous in spending money.

  If, despite all of these protections, something was still brewing on the horizon by any chance, there was no way that the whole family would have been completely clueless about it till now. And that led back to the second possibility again.

  Rraos hemmed and hawed with this treacherous idea for quite some time before coming to a decision. He had been ruminating paranoia fuelled thoughts for too long. Uncertainty and over-scrutiny had crippled his decision-making ability yesterday, so not focusing on too many variables had to be the only way to approach this quandary.

  His mind steeled, Rraos stood up and walked away from his cozy lounge, then opened up his wardrobe. He sifted through his formal clothes to pick up one of his better sets. A tight, sand-shell coloured, full sleeved, high-necked shirt, and a pair of tough but flexible grey pants went under a form fitting black robe that split at the waist and flowed down to end at his calves. On top of that, a pair of fully covering leather gloves, thick leather boots, and an imposing black mask that sloped away towards the back on the upper half and jutted away from his jaw like a shield in the lower completed the attire. Emblems of his family were visible upon every piece.

  Rraos was ready to move.

  The curtains were drawn close and the air adjuster in the room shut down. Rraos stepped out of his room and saw a guard lounging in the waiting room. This guard was a newly promoted one and had not served Rraos longer than two months. Rraos scanned the waiting room thoroughly for others, but found no one else.

  Where was Z’xalorr?

  The man’s absence caused an unfamiliar sense of discomfort within Rraos’ guts. He quickly beckoned the guard, who was now standing at attention, to approach. Once he stood in front of Rraos, the question in Rraos’ mind was repeated.

  “Where is the captain of my guard?”

  “The captain said he would be investigating the target, Qaiz’rra.”

  While that was a reasonable answer, Rraos was very discomfited by it. Only yesterday he would not have considered the line of thought he was currently pursuing, so now that he had dared to point his questioning finger towards his own surroundings, it was turning him into either a very paranoid man, or one about to stumble into a scenery he had never witnessed before.

  “Then get ready to move. I want to get back to our estate as quickly as possible.”

  “Yes, Qaiz’rra. Should I –”

  “Look, I know you are hesitant about your protocols, since it hasn't been long that you were promoted, but time is ticking and I am in a deadly hurry.”

  “Deepest apologies, Qaiz’rra…. Qaiz’rra I’ll make haste. Please wait for a few minutes, Qaiz’rra.”

  The guard hurried out with a formal greeting. Had Rraos’ concerns been any lighter, he might even have chuckled at the poor man; such a nervous fellow! But as things stood, he could not bother less with this comedy snap. A beast at good health may mock the worms, but a sick one had only the leave to worry about them.

  Rraos did not get to tire his brains out for too long. Four guards marched into the room, three of them standing lined up behind the vice-captain that had left earlier. All of them looked sharp and up to attention.

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  Rraos nodded at them, and that was their cue to move. They walked a few steps away, clearing the path through the room for their employer as was customary, then followed him outside in formation.

  Being in the city block that lodged the most powerful people of Orron, the movement of such a dignified party did not attract much inquisitiveness. People who had regular dealings or worked here barely glanced at the party, while for others who found such a sight rare, this wasn't somewhere they could stand around slack jawed.

  At the end of a painstakingly maintained front lawn, carpeted by regularly trimmed grass, agaves, yuccas, and many kinds of flowers that bloomed year-round around Orron, was a carriage drawn by four powerful Moyeganeni horses. Rraos ascended the large black carriage with sprightly steps and had the doors shut behind him. The guards took up their respective positions, with three sitting down on the open back-seats behind the carriage, and the head of the unit sitting in his special position behind the coachman. The coachman then issued a loud command, and the carriage rumbled down the streets of Orron.

  The journey from the city walls to the Arroxath estate was completed in less than ten minutes. Once the inner gates of his home were reached, Rraos wasted no time in getting down and hurrying inside them. It was unlike him to do so, but Rraos was feeling impatient.

  He sped through the estate grounds in a hurried gait, not caring for the puzzled eyes he drew upon himself. The main building felt particularly far away to him today, but he persevered and crossed the central avenue without outright dashing. When Rraos finished climbing up the stairs to the raised courtyard, however, he was impeded by a figure who he had no desire to meet, especially at this point of time.

  “Oh my! Look who decided to show up here?”

  The carefully clothed and poised boy, Radus by name, was the youngest amongst the potential heirs of the Arroxatha, and he was the most annoying of them all by far. Rraos wondered if he should simply flounce past his brother.

  “What? No witticism today?” The younger Arroxath skipped over into Rraos’ personal space. “No silly attempt at a banter at all, dear brother?”

  Rraos frowned. He did not have time for this poisonous mouse today.

  “Get out of my face and my way, you smelly little crotch-biter! I don't have time to entertain your barbed tongue today.”

  Radus' smile widened like a predator at his brother’s viciousness.

  “Why is that, I wonder?” Radus stepped back a little, put an index finger between his brows, and frowned, affecting a thoughtful posture. “Why is our dear brother, so naturally unfazed and carefree, flapping around like a headless bird?”

  Rraos tried to sidestep Radus, but the younger brother once more got in Rraos’ way to stop him from leaving. Rraos would have left anyway, but something in Radus’ abnormal behaviour, from his barely tamed glee to his persistence, gave Rraos a pause. Radus did not miss on this chance.

  “Could it be, dear brother, that you did something irreversible? Is that why you're in a hurry?” Radus took another measured step back. “Is that why Z’xalorr decided to rat you out?”

  Rraos lunged. He would have had Radus down on the ground then and there, had Radus not made a measured retreat a moment earlier.

  “I dare you to run your mouth again, brother.”

  Rraos was angry beyond measure. At whom? He did not know. It did not matter. He would break whatever his hands fell on. Preferably starting from the filthy little rodent before him.

  “Are you so drunk on yourself that you are blind to how many times your precious captain of the guard had visited the head’s office these two days?” Radus spat in retaliation. “She may be your mother, but do you think you won't be cut and thrown away if you become a death-tumour?”

  Rraos nearly flew into a fit of rage again, but his anger fizzled out helplessly and left behind a sickening sense of fear and betrayal. It was relatively easy, maybe even fun, to consider a plot of betrayal against oneself. But to have a betrayal thrown unceremoniously into one’s own face was a horror no amount of prior thought would make anyone ready for.

  Somewhere behind him, Rraos may have heard Xilasya, his dear sister, call out his name. Maybe she was delighted by his visit. Rraos may even have heard Radus throw a few more verbal jabs at him. He was a poisonous little rodent, after all. But none of them mattered. None of them were heard. All Rraos could hear was the overwhelming noise of blood flowing within him as he thundered up the staircase of the main building. He needed to get to his mother’s office as immediately as he could.

  He shoved a worker out of the way and crashed into a maid, but that did not matter. He was gently stopped by a guard at the door to his mother’s office, whom he shoved in through the door and was then pinned to the floor by. That also did not matter. The only thing that mattered was that Z’xalorr was standing in the room with his mother, and he wanted answers.

  Rraos’ mother waved a finger, and Rraos felt himself being released. Despite that, Rraos did not get up. His mask had fallen away during the scuffle, but Rraos did not get that either. He wanted answers.

  “You look foolish, laying down on my floor like that, Rraos.”

  His mother's voice was strong. Commanding.

  “Get up,” she demanded. “Tell me what brings you here.”

  Rraos felt nauseous. He wished he could bury this whole place with money. Even so, he sat up.

  “What are you planning, mother?” Rraos asked. “Why is Z’xalorr flitting around you like a moth around a lamp? Why are you disrupting my life?”

  At first, his mother just stared at him, silent as a grave. Then, she sighed and seemed to shrink.

  “Your desires are too strong, Rraos.” His mother's voice sounded a little frail.

  Frail? His mother? Rrianxi Arroxath, the head of the Arroxath family and one of the most powerful people of the Moyegan sy’vethrron, if not in the entirety of Arrkad’vla, was feeling weak? What an absolute joke.

  “What should I do about you, son?” She continued to speak to him. “You’ve always been such a free-spirited child. Where would you be satisfied?”

  Rraos’ mother walked up to her son and crouched down before him. Her crimson eyes locked into Rraos’ own, and Rraos saw an abundance of pity in them.

  “You caused some losses for us, and I let it go. You left your education, and I let that slide. You caused people grief, and I tried to help them back as much as I could. I understood.”

  Rraos’ mother stood up and turned away from him. She slowly made her way to a window in her office, still speaking to her son.

  “We are the Arroxatha. We were born with power in our blood and responsibilities upon our shoulders. We, after the Dosiloth, are one of the four rulers of the desert. Oh, and even the Dosiloth of Moyegan is so often chosen to be someone from our family! The highest standing in our sy’vethrron! There is so much pressure, so much expectation on us. We train our body with exercise, and our mind we sharpen with knowledge. Above it all, there is Mayyux guiding us through everything. All of it, unceasingly constant. This is the environment in which we grow strong.”

  Rrianxi Arroxath turned her head back to look at Rraos, and the fire was back in her eyes. Whatever this little demonstration of apparent pathos was supposed to be, it was over. Rraos believed he would be getting the answers he came here for.

  “I know you do not like any of this, Rraos. I understood that. But what I never understood was how you wished to grow strong. Still, I knew you yearned for more. I provided whatever I could to help you along. So…. why did you believe your way to strength would be to turn back on the family?”

  Rraos started. What was she talking about?

  “Why did you conspire with a country boy to take over the family? What would you have done to your own mother, son?”

  Rraos cast a bewildered look at his mother, then at Z’xalorr, and back once more at his mother. Something was not right here.

  “Mother, I –!”

  His words were cut off almost immediately.

  “I will not hear anything from you. You are my son and my only weakness. You have lied to me countless times, and I chose to believe them all. But this time I cannot listen, knowing that the future of the whole family is at stake.”

  Rraos wanted to shout and curse. He wanted to rage and let his mind be known. At this point, he would even wrestle his mother, though he knew he stood no chance against her.

  But no matter what Rraos wanted to do, he wasn't free to do anything. Z’xalorr, who had always had Rraos’ back, now stood in front of him. Rraos was not sure about it, but the loqerron could very well be a traitor in their midst. It was also possible that Z’xalorr was innocent, but that was too terrifying a thought to even pursue at the moment.

  “Take him away, Z’xalorr.”

  The command was abrupt. Rraos barely even registered it by the time his trusted partner had him by the back of his neck. His arms were twisted and pinned behind him, and his legs forced to march towards the door. Rraos squirmed like an eel, trying to break out. It did not work.

  “You’ve got it all wrong, mother!” Rraos shouted. “I was never planning anything like that! Someone is out to deceive you!”

  Rraos was on the verge of tears when the door of his mother's office was opened and he was forcefully shoved out, shouting and screaming. He vaguely registered his mother still looking out of the window, but in the face of his own predicament, that was an absolutely insignificant speck of detail. His life was over. Nothing mattered anymore.

  Through the despair clouded mind of Rraos, a very whimsical thought made its appearance. If the Jyevodirr boy was any good, he should show his face now. Rraos would be eternally grateful to the boy. No, if he kept his words, that would make him a man. When would the promised time arrive if not now?

  But whimsy was whimsy; it had no place in reality.

  There was not much hope left for Rraos now. He was still being forced to walk. Step by step. Bawling and screeching. Feet dragging. Neck hurting. One foot forced to be put before the other.

  Forced to walk on and on. Through the corridor outside his mother’s office. Down the stairs leading out of the building. Plodding through lost luxury. Marching with horrified looks trained upon him. Stripped of his dignity with each step.

  Forced to walk without stopping. Onto the courtyard. Facing a smirking Radus, and a devastated Xilasya.

  And then a halt.

  A halt?

  Rraos was confused. He looked around to see that no one in his immediate vicinity was looking at him. Even the traitorous Z’xalorr had loosened his grip enough for Rraos to instinctively glance back at the windows of his mother's office. She was looking directly at him through the glass panes, a warm smile playing on her face. She winked at him.

  What?

  It was only then Rraos Arroxath’s despair was pushed back far enough by his bewilderment that he was able to make a proper sense of his surroundings.

  Rraos could hear a huge commotion in the estate. The stone underneath his feet were vibrating violently in irregular pulses. Weaker workers were retreating back towards the office areas, while guards streamed out and away in the direction of the estate gates. Orders were being shouted. And, to Rraos’ shock, many of the xamosa were walking out into the open.

  There was a flash of light, after which a violent shockwave rippled out through the estate, shattering unreinforced glass and damaging unprotected structures. Rraos would have tumbled and fallen quite far away, had he not been restrained by the traitorous loquerron. Even so, they slid some distance away together from where they stood.

  Rraos still could not get over his confusion. What in the Great God’s name was going on here?

  A xamos jumped away towards the commotion’s origin. Swiftly, another one followed, and then another. Why would they all need to go?

  Xamos were champions affiliated with large groups. In this empire that respected strength, the strongest were given the opportunity to live an unbothered life pursuing strength, while the cost of their living and of their desires were borne by powerful economic, administrative or social groups within the Empire. The only caveat was that these champions were essentially tied to that group by a bond of honour and were responsible for protecting their respective groups during any crisis.

  Seeing such people rushing out like a stampede of beasts was an absolutely shocking matter to the sheltered Rraos.

  Who had the audacity to attack the Arroxatha at the very own home? Was it another of the four Desert’s Jewel families, amongst whom the Arroxatha numbered? That was not possible. The Dosiloth would not overlook such matters. Then who?

  The gears within Rraos' head began working themselves to a frenzy.

  His mother knew something he did not. She had always supported him. She knew his ways and still tried to help. She was also not taking any action currently. Even the strongest xamosa, who only heeded the family head, were all absent too.

  Then whoever was causing this mayhem had the trust of his mother. But why be forceful in that case? The only people who could get away with using force here would be the Kraturr and his Mag’rra. Any of them being here and raising a ruckus like this, however, was even more improbable than a random person doing so. A random person….

  A fierce grin broke out on Rraos’ face as he finally had the faintest of ideas regarding what this surreal scenery unfolding before him was. He was fine, and he had his mother’s blessings. He might have to discard his old, sheltered life, though. That much he understood. Right now, that did not matter. The world as he knew it had become feverishly mad, but this is what it always was, probably.

  A senseless young man from some godforsaken wilderness apparently meant every one of his words, and somehow his mother had put a bit of faith on him. On whom? The wildling, or Rraos? Regardless, he felt that she had assented to some unasked request Rraos himself did not know was buried within him, just as she had pushed him to see this new scenery that he by himself would never have. This was the unadulterated scenery of life.

  Another burst of power, contained somehow to not affect Rraos or Z’xalorr, snapped Rraos out of his stupor. In a burst of motion, Jyevodirr suddenly appeared in front of Rraos and sent Z’xalorr flying with a fierce smile. Rraos felt the world spin out of control, but the madman stopped Rraos from being blown away like a leaf in the wind. Another wild man, burlier than the one Rraos was acquainted with, appeared at their side.

  “Are you okay?” The familiar madman asked. Rraos forced on a smile.

  “I’ll live.”

  And nothing else mattered.