Prince Relastin paced to the door and back again. Dressed only in his red and green urk, the fashion decision exposed his proudly bare chest and its multitude of scars earned in past battles. It also prominently displayed his bandaged arm as a distinguished reminder of his recent clash with the Koronai Night Terror.

Wood flooring creaked under his feet with every step in the pre-dawn hours. To say the situation he was now in was uncomfortable would have been an understatement.

In the bed of his Royal Physician, chest tightly wrapped in bandages, laid the slave boy, Kaden. Son of Orl. Traitor to Ison. Chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, the boy rested in a near comatose state.

The fact he still lived, even if only barely, caused several annoying problems for the prince.

First was that Kaden had broken the law as set forth in the Decrees. He'd entered the Abyss. And for anyone who was not a warrior of the Royal Guardians of Ison to enter the Abyss and without permission was forbidden. There had to be a punishment for his action. And that punishment for a slave who disobeyed the Decrees was either death or banishment into the Barrens.

The latter was a death sentence of its own. No one lasted in the Barrens. They would die from lack of food and water, the heat, or, most likely, the fangs of a swarm of Black Rohs once night fell.

The second problem was that Kaden's reckless entrance into the Abyss could arguably have saved the prince's life. Something that would require a Hurutel, a life debt, to be paid by the prince. But also something few could ever be allowed to know about.

If he were a lesser man, the prince could have ignored that, but honor nagged at him to not act in such a pitiful manner. Just as he had anguished about his honor during the fight, the prince now worried about it as it pertained to the boy.

The third problem was the boy was the only witness to his heroism against the Night Terror. And he needed him to speak that witness when it came time for him to ascend to the High Throne of Imeron and displace his father as king.

All these problems were in stark contrast to one another. And there was only one way out of it. But that one way, the boy's natural death, would leave him without his deeply desired witness.

"Will he live?" Prince Relastin asked, and not for the first time. "You told me in fourteen sunsrises you could say for certain. It is now fourteen."

The Royal Physician, an elderly man in dusty robes over his tunic, his skin wrinkled with age and dried from a life in the desert air, put his hand on the slowly rising and falling chest of his young patient. There was a small patch of crusted blood on the bandages by the boy's heart.

He looked up from the far side of the bed. "He will live," the man spoke.

The prince was not sure how to take such news. Although he exuded a sigh.

The doctor noticed the heavy exhale of breath and the troubled expression on his prince's face. "I can make sure that he does not, if you like?"

"You know I can't tell you to do that, Touran." The warning came loud and clear from the man who ruled the northernmost of the nine cities of Imeron.

"You don't need to." From the folds of his clothing, Touran produced a gracefully slim dagger with an edge so sharp that it cut the air itself.

Prince Relastin's eyes widened, then narrowed. "You will do no such thing. Am I clear?"

"He is but a slave, your Highness." Touran did not return his knife to where it had come from. "No one would know or care. People would believe the foolish child was done in by the Night Terror. The wound has left me able to see his heart, and I can pierce it."

"I would know." The prince gave a hard glare to drive home his meaning.

"I fully understand the position this boy has put you in, my prince." With obvious reluctance, Touran finally stowed the weapon. Walking around the bed, he came over to where Prince Relastin had chosen to stand and deliver his wishes on the matter. "A prince of Imeron indebted to a slave? Dangerous that is."

"Yes. It's not a problem that can't be dealt with, however. He is my best distiller within these walls. And get's better every day. The men always ask if he is on duty to supply them as they head into the Abyss. Soon he will be more skilled than his father. He is already more skilled than that fool, Hundu." The prince let his distaste of that knowledge spill out through his words. The simple fact that he left off the 'Son of Watto' when mentioning Hundu's name was enough to show his lack of respect for the man. "The kingdom cannot afford to lose his talent and knowledge. But, more than anything else, I need him to bear witness to my killing of the Night Terror so that it can be properly recorded. There is too much competition among the thrones to let something of that magnitude go to waste."

"You speak specifically of Prince Zar?"

"Yes. Ivorn dangerously rises in the East. As does Ish in the South. But Ivorn most of all."

"From what I hear, Prince Zar has not reached even the sixth level as yet. You are already down to the ninth."

"Even the sixth level is a formidable challenge." The prince clutched his first, the thought of his ascension even being challenged drawing out his anger. "If Prince Zar has gotten that far, it is only a matter of time. When the moment comes, I must have the record of my kills validated. All of them. We cannot believe what others have said."

Touran began unwrapping the bandages on the prince's arm. "That is very important, my prince. But who would believe a slave?" Once the coverings were removed, the physician examined what lay beneath. The scar that was once a wound running from shoulder to elbow was now pink with new flesh. It was healing well, and the progress pleased Touran.

"When he wakes, he will no longer be a slave," Prince Relastin informed his physician.

"No longer be a slave?" Touran was incredulous. "My prince, surely you cannot mean—"

"I always speak what I mean." The prince tore aware from his physician to emphasize his words.

"You speak of inducting him into the Royal Guards?"

The prince gave a confirming nod. "This is exactly what I speak of. He will then be able to bear witness and be believed."

"My prince, not only is he a slave, but he is a traitor's son. Such is a double sentence against him. One or the other, and it would be acceptable to suggest this. But not both."

Staring at the boy who was at the heart of the conundrum, the prince pondered his options. "Two acts of heroism did he commit. For that, I can lift one of those stones from around his neck."

"Sire," the physician bowed. "Even though it is not my place to protest, nor have you asked, I feel that I must."

"You believe that your years of undying loyalty would grant you pardon for disagreeing with your prince?"

"Remove my head if you must," Touran said. "Banish me if you will. I only wish to see that you are thinking clearly in all this. There will be another Night Terror. You will reach the Gates soon and the Guardians will fall. There will be another chance for great honor."

Prince Relastin turned to bore his gaze into the old man. "I will do no such horrors to you, my friend. But it is important for you to understand that if others had heard this, or if others should learn of it, I will have to do what you say." Then he added a command. "Rise."

Touran did so. "I appreciate your compassion, my prince."

"And I do such in hopes that you will understand why I am being compassionate with this boy." Prince Relastin motioned to Kaden who was unaware of the negations over his future and his life. "Not out of want, but out of need and out of respect. Like you, he is useful. And he has shown uncommon loyalty. Tell me another slave that would have done what he did on my behalf. Therefor title I shall lift from him for his actions is that of a slave. He shall remain, now and forever, Son of Orl, Traitor to Ison."

Nodding, Touran understood the wisdom. "I see. And as still the son of a traitor, he is not truly free either."

"No. By the Decrees, he shall become a warrior in Ison's army. As that is the only honorable profession a traitor's son may hold."

"Very wise, my prince."

Prince Relastin considered what he was about to say next. For if he uttered it in the presence of a witness, it would become binding. Although he was sure Touran who refrain from saying such if ever asked to confirm it. "I will make him my Karo Shar."

Touran's eyes flared wide. "Your Karo Shar?" he repeated.

"My Karo Shar," the prince confirmed.

"That is a high honor to bestow upon a traitor's son." Touran paused only a fraction of a moment. "And to a boy who is not a soldier. The Warrior Guard of Ison? Are you certain? Never in all your twelve years of rule have you named one."

"Yes." The prince nodded. "Kaden, Son of Orl, Traitor to Ison, shall always be at my right hand. He will be trained as a warrior. There I can keep a firm eye on him." Then came a caveat. "And, if need be, end him."

"It is a plan." Touran did not reply with a nod, however.

The prince noticed. "One that you do not agree with?"

"Agree or disagree?" The physician shrugged. "Would it matter? The boy needs training. And who better to train him than you. But I don't believe I am the one that you need to worry about. Princess Lyla is the one I do not believe will take kindly to the news, my prince. Considering she would be betrothed to him."

"Yes, my sister will be a problem."

"She is willful. Much like your mother. Much like your other sister."

"Do not," Prince Relastin warned, "speak of her. That would be a step too far for me to forgive."

"Many pardons, my prince."

Prince Relastin allowed his anger to ebb. "I agree with the wise old saying of my father, King Arban, son of Xorvis. Your enemies are the ones you must hold closest to you. And Kaden, I well know, if not my friend."

That made Touran think something unpleasant. "Does that mean I too am your enemy, my prince?"

Prince Relastin smiled. "Should you be?" he asked wryly.

"I would hope never to be in such an untenable position, my prince."

"Good. I will need your loyalty when the time comes for me to ascend to the High Throne of Imeron."

Touran returned to his other patient. "Are you ready? Are you prepared to take on your king? Your father?"

"If I make it to the Gates, I won't have to worry. By the Decrees, he will concede the throne to me out of honor alone. Just as his father did. And his father before him. We will maintain the unbroken line of Ison sitting upon the High Throne of Imeron."

Touran bowed again. "I await that glorious day, my prince."