In a black urk denoting his status as the son of traitor, with no armor protecting him, Kaden kneeled on all fours. The sandy ground grit on the skin of his palms and knees as blood poured from the fresh split in his lip. The latest wound was courtesy of a backhand from the pommel of the prince's majestic sword. If he thought his body could not hurt one ounce more than yesterday when he awoke, he was wrong. Now, not only did Kaden's chest ache with misery beneath his bandages, but so did everything else.

"The Karo Shar cannot be weak!" Prince Relastin hovered over him like the slave driver he was.

As the prince schooled the boy bowing before him in the art of battle, a dozen men dressed in head to toe silk robes observed from a distance. Not a one of them seemed at all impressed by the display they were witnessing. Each one bore a distinct facial expression that spoke to their innermost and uniform thoughts—why did the prince choose this weak, little child.

Kaden's unimpressive and non-muscular arms and legs were spotted purple with deep bruises. He did not respond even as the already oppressive late morning heat from the twin suns beat down on him through the open aired top of the private training arena in the prince's palace at the heart of Ison's Upper Ring. It was five stories tall, balconies circling the arena on all levels.

While the prince held his drawn sword and had been beating his would be Karo Shar profusely with it, Kaden was thankful the prince used only the flat of the blade to do so. And that his teacher had avoided striking the tender wound on his chest, still wrapped in bandages and covering the mark he received from the Koronai's claw.

"The Karo Shar must be skilled with body, weapon, and with his mind." The prince kicked the less impressive but still well-forged sword Kaden had recently dropped back to within his reach. The one he'd taken while in the Abyss. "I believe your mind is very strong. But your body is so very weak."

Kaden did not reach for the sword, even though his fingers could have gripped it.

To emphasize his complaints over Kaden's poor performance thus far, and to put on a display for those assembled while Kaden was in no position to defend himself, Prince Relastin smacked him across the back with his own steel and drew out a painful welt that throbbed there.

Even as he flinched and grunted in agony, Kaden again chose not to reply. Not when others were present.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself?" The prince roared. He put on a grand show of beating the shit out of a boy who was not in any way trained as a warrior. "Speak now, so I can at least believe you are taking this seriously. And that I am not wasting my time. Perhaps I should just give up and kill you now?"

Given the expressed permission to do so, Kaden finally spoke. He chose his words wisely. "I am here to learn from the Great Prince of Ison." The would-be Karo Shar thought he almost saw the prince smile at the forced honor behind the words. He then added more. "Greatest of all Ison's warriors and heir apparent to the Throne of Imeron. Sometimes learning is painful. I accept that pain."

"So you do understand?" Prince Relastin nodded, then he addressed his advisors. "Leave us. I should speak to my Karo Shar in private."

Those who had assembled to watch the pathetic display funneled out of the arena in the middle of the prince's palace upon being ordered to do so. Single file, they left through a set of stone columns. None protested, but Kaden could tell his performance had not impressed them. Although not a one would dare say anything to him or the prince.

They might have been "advisors" to his Royal Highness, selected by the High King himself, the prince's father, but none of them would dare cross him or speak ill of this encounter. At least not in public. And not during council unless directly asked by the prince.

What they said in private, however, to others could indeed sway opinions. They needed to be convinced or they would begin to talk. And if they did, Kaden knew their days remaining upon this world would be short. As would his. The prince would kill all of them and even his pathetic Karo Shar in a heartbeat to save face.

There was, however, one other that did not leave. Kaden had noticed the form lingering on the third of the five terraces. It was just enough in the shadows that one could not see much. But Kaden saw enough to know another had taken an interest in what was transpiring.

Once his advisors had left, the prince discarded his own sword on top of Kaden's. The blades clanged. It was one of the highest signs of disappointment and lack of respect one warrior could give to another.

"You must do better tomorrow," the prince scolded. "Mine and theirs," he motioned to where his advisor's had retreated, "are not the only eyes watching you. I saw you fight the Night Terror. I thought perhaps you had some natural skill. Now I see it was just blind luck."

To add insult, the prince spat on the ground in front of Kaden.

"Forgive me, my prince." Kaden kept his head down.

"Enough of this groveling! Stand! Be a man before me. We are no longer in the presence of others that matter, and your weakness is embarrassing. Being strong of body begins with being strong of will and being able to face your problems without backing down."

Kaden's body would not respond after the beating it had just received on top of his previous wounds. "I cannot, my prince. I am not healed enough."

"No more of your sniveling!" Prince Relastin bent down and with a firm grip hauled Kaden to his feet. "I commanded you to rise and you will rise."

As his muscles were forced to move against their will, Kaden's body erupted into fire. A not-so-subtle reminder that death would bring welcome relief.

Upon getting his feet under him, Kaden doubled over, his hands on his knees while his legs felt like rubber. "Perhaps something more academic would be a better place to start?" he asked while heaving steadying breaths. "Something like a book on the theory of swordsmanship?"

"You think you can learn what it takes to fight Koronai from scholars and their words? Men who have never lifted a sword to save their life?" The scorn in the prince's voice was deep. "There is a reason why we do not send those fools into the Abyss to fight those demons. They can try to understand what the body goes through in combat. But will always fail to capture the essence of the skill required. One learns the proper technique by doing. From other warriors. Repetition of the muscles time and again. Not by reading."

Kaden pushed his battered body to straighten and rise, sensing how deep the prince's agitation was with him. "I felt like when I was in the Abyss, I had more instincts. And those were flowing through me and guiding me."

"You did." The prince nodded in agreement. "Your body reacted well to the Courage and the Rage you inhaled. It enhanced you. Encouraged you to lose yourself to primal parts of your being. Ones that our ancestors used to survive many years before civilization came to Imeron. And then those instincts took over. What you did was impressive. And why I know there is a warrior within you. Even if others cannot see it."

"Then perhaps I should train after taking a dose of emotional essence?" Kaden asked.

"No. A warrior must know how to fight without enhancement first. There will be times when Rage or Courage or any other necessary essence will not be at your disposal. Or when the one's you've had have worn off. Battles can go on for a long time. Campaigns even longer. Supplies are not always to be had. Do you remember what I said when we were fighting the Night Terror?"

Kaden searched his memory. "You said your Rage was wearing off."

"Not just wearing off, Kaden, Son of Orl, Traitor of Ison. But gone. Completely."

It amazed Kaden to hear such an admission. "And you still stood toe to toe with the Night Terror?"

"Yes, I did." There was pride in the way the prince's chest expanded. "And if we would have encountered it on the first day of our crusade into the Abyss, I could have defeated him alone. And without any essence or assistance from my men. Not because of books. I've never picked up a one regarding combat techniques. But because I have trained my body and mind to do so since the day I could walk. You are a decade plus some years behind me on that, but I will have to ready to hold your own. The same way my father taught me."

"I don't dispute the value of doing," Kaden said. "Nor the wisdom of your father, the King of Imeron. I've personally learned a lot of things that way. But I do believe there is value in the academic as well. It is how I became a great chemist, like my father before me."

"Alchemy, chemistry, and science are not the same as combat, boy. In one, you may not come home the next day if you fail."

Kaden cracked a wry smile. "You talk like a man who's never seen a still of Rage explode. Never seen the shrapnel of glass shards coated with the essence shred a man's chest and face and arms and legs, the same as the Night Terror's claw did to your men." Forgetting the pain wracking his body, Kaden tore open his bandage. The gesture exposed the still raw wound slicing down his chest. "And to me."

It did not bleed. Neither was it healed. A yawning canyon allowing anyone who dared look to see inside of him.

And the prince did look. He was not so squeamish as to even consider turning away. "That is a badge of honor that you wear, Kaden, Son of Orl, Traitor to Ison. But it does not make you a warrior yet."

"You keep calling me that pejorative. I thought I was your Karo Shar?"

"When you have earned that name, then it will be yours forever. Until then, I will call you my Karo Shar in the presence of others and whatever I wish when we are alone." The prince paused. He looked up to the place on the balcony where the form Kaden had seen once had been, but now was gone. "Perhaps you are correct. Maybe you cannot be taught the same way others have been. I have never trained a chemist to be a warrior. Never considered the possibility before now. But we are going to try it my way, none-the-less." The prince looked over the boy he was trying to turn into a man. "Return to Touran," he ordered. "Tell him to prepare you one of his special healing salves. He'll know of what I speak. I want you ready at first light for your next lesson."

"I should meet you here then?"

"No," the prince turned to leave. "Meet me at the Gap. You and I will descend into the Abyss. Alone. And luck will have its way and present you with a trial by fire."