Kishi spent nearly an hour at the stream as she carefully washed and polished the twin blades until she could see her face clearly again.
"Never leave your sword dirty," her father had told her almost severely after an unusually intense training session.
Kishi had cried that night. She'd been only five, after all.
Now she was grateful for every harsh word her father had trusted her with.
Harsh words were better than immature comfort.
The blades were clean now. Kishi made her way back to the grove as twilight fell through the leaf-floored canopy of the sky.
She didn't usually change her clothes at night, but today she did. Her training clothes were tough, but they were also rougher than they needed to be. Especially when they were drenched with the dirt, sweat, and tears of an entire day's training.
Her cloak had been left to protect all her supplies–and the firewood–from that morning's rain. Now she uncovered them and grabbed a new pair of leggings, as well as a shirt.
She smiled as she slipped them on–they were soft.
Then she grimaced.
Soft wasn't for a warrior like her.
Well, they were clothes, anyway. But they'd wear out quickly, that was for sure.
Still scowling, Kishi kicked away some of the firepit's damp ashes and set up a small tepee of logs, kindling underneath. Her hand paused with the note from the other day before she added it to the pile and knocked on a shatter of sparks.
Soon the kindling caught flame. Smoke rose to the treetops, a bit more than usual.
Maybe some of the wood had gotten wet after all.
Kishi twisted her head up, studying the smoke as it merged with the twilight.
She should be fine. It was almost too dark for anyone to see it, anyway.
Leaning back relentlessly on her exhausted arms, Kishi closed her eyes and let her hair fall loose. She began to brush it out with her fingers. There were a couple of leaves she had to pull out.
Maybe she'd bathe in the stream tomorrow.
Maybe not.
That would depend on the day's supply of messengers.
~~~
By the time the walls of the castle came into view over the rolling hills of Hoshara, the daylight was fading quickly.
Shiro smiled at the distant stone as he patted his horse encouragingly.
"Almost there," he murmured, and the animal seemed to pick up some life. Its hooves moved just a bit more quickly towards their destination.
It was another hour before they reached it. By the time they did, Shiro was nearly as tired as his steed.
He left the stableboys to water down the horse and get it comfortable. Kicking the muddy dirt off his boots, Shiro made his way into the castle itself.
He was ravenously hungry. But his message was more important than his stomach. Almost reluctantly, Shiro directed his steps towards the King's audience room.
Strange how the cold halls seemed so much colder without Arai's bright face to warm Shiro's spirits.
Ah, well. The Karunic lad would be much happier in his own home territory.
Until he was sent back to the castle with the final report, anyway.
Shiro hummed lightly to himself as he reached towards the walls to brace himself for the final stairway.
He wasn't getting old, no. Certainly not.
But he was exhausted.
However, the King wasn't in the audience room. Shiro frowned as he glanced around the expansive hall, lit only by a few candles whose flames licked into the darkness before cowering away into the wax.
Maybe the King was still at supper.
Sighing to himself, Shiro headed back towards the stairwell.
He nearly tumbled down the steps as a young figure slammed into him from nowhere.
"Oh!" the boy shouted. "Why are you in my way?"
Shiro's eyebrows shot up.
Iha Hoshara. The heir to the throne.
And also one of the brattiest children Shiro had ever been unfortunate enough to meet.
"My apologies, Prince." Stiffly, Shiro straightened and began the descent.
Huffing in annoyance, the Prince passed him easily. Shiro let him go.
It was a few minutes before the veteran rashei entered the dining hall. Sure enough, the King was still in his chair, though his plate was far from full and the remaining seats were mostly empty. Supper would likely end any moment now.
Then the King glanced up and saw the rashei.
"Shiro!" he called, his posture straightening a touch.
Bowing deeply, Shiro crossed the room to the King. He knelt and kissed the man's ring briefly.
"Your Majesty."
"I'll see you in the audience room shortly," the King told him. "Get yourself some supper, man."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Shiro bowed again.
He felt the gaze on his back before he saw the man standing in the shadows behind the King's chair. Startled, Shiro glanced up for a moment.
His eyes met the dark ones of the most feared man in all of Hoshara.
Shiro stared at the floor as he left the dining room quickly and headed down to the kitchen.
There, he was shocked to be waited on by no one less than Princess Aneka herself.
"My Lady!" he frowned.
She laughed as she slid onto the stool opposite his. "I like to cook. Well, Rashei Shiro, you're back from Karun so soon?"
He shook his head, smiling. Princess Aneka was like none other. Though only thirteen, she perpetually insisted on both servile kitchen duties and intensive combat training.
"I am," he admitted, taking a large spoonful of the soup she had brought him.
She watched him almost anxiously. "Do you like it?"
He nodded appreciatively.
"It's delicious, my Lady. Better than any housewife's pitiful fare." He smiled. "As is anything prepared by your Ladyship's hands."
He took a moment to notice how rough those hands actually were.
Clearly, the Princess had not slacked her training in days.
"I'm glad." Aneka fairly danced on the stool as she watched him continue eating.
"Are you going to talk to Father?" she asked a moment later. "That's why you're back, isn't it?"
Shiro finished chewing before he answered her.
"I believe so," he replied carefully.
"Is it about the rakhai?" Her eyes lit up.
Shiro's shoulders shook in laughter.
"You and that rakhai. Forgive my impudence, my Lady, but you're as partial to the ghost of Hiyashi as any Karunic child."
She shrugged, her face tensing only slightly before she laughed back at him.
"I like girls who can fight," she said defensively.
He smiled. "Well, that includes you, my Lady."
She smirked. "Can I fight you tomorrow? With steel?"
His dark eyebrows shot up.
"My Lady–"
"Oh, come on," she snorted. "I've practiced with my brother."
"Your brother–" Shiro broke off his retort before it ended in something that would not have fallen well on royal ears.
"Besides, Valoren Tadashi won't train me until I've beaten three rashei, he says," she went on.
Shiro choked on a spoonful of soup.
No way would a rashei dare to beat Princess Aneka.
Well, the Princess always had her way.
"I accept your challenge, my Lady," he said slowly.
Her entire face beamed.
"...but only if you promise to wear armor."
"Huh." Aneka's lips curled in scorn. "Of course I will!"
He lifted the bowl to his mouth and finished it in one gulp before he stood up abruptly.
"Thank you once again, my Lady," he told her as he stepped towards the kitchen. "I shall see you tomorrow morning."
Her eyes followed him out of the room, but Shiro ignored that fact and brought his bowl to the kitchen staff for washing. Then he headed slowly back towards the stairs and the audience room.
This time it wasn't empty. As he had expected, the King sat in the large oaken chair that he much preferred to his throne. And as Shiro had not expected, the same dark-haired, dark-eyed man stood behind that chair, his eyes piercing into Shiro as if he could read the veteran's mind.
Shiro knelt again, but the King gestured to him before the formalities could be finished.
"Sit, sit," he urged. "What is your message from Valoren Yazawa?"
Shiro bit his lip as he took a seat on one of the stools.
"He has neither seen nor heard anything, Your Majesty," he said carefully. "Nothing of the heir, nothing of the swordsman's daughter. However…"
Here he smiled tentatively.
"Well?" the King pressed.
Shiro leaned in closer. "I believe I have confirmed the identity of Hiyashi's rakhai. It is indeed Kishi Eishi–as far as looks go."
The King blinked for a moment.
"How?" he demanded. "How do you know?"
"I myself was stopped by the rakhai–twice." Shiro held up his bandaged hand–he'd been careful to hide it from Aneka. "She shot at me once. I have the arrow in my keeping. She also gave me a message to deliver to you."
The King's eyes narrowed.
"And the message?"
"She told me to inform you that 'Time is up.'"
Shiro waited.
Then the man behind the King's chair stepped forward.
"Audacious," he murmured, his lips curving into a smile. "Is that all, rashei Shiro?"
Shiro nodded, standing up before he was ordered to.
"That is all."