Talios-Chapter 42: Shoel

The second day, much like the first, passed through the same motions. Ajab noticed, too, that the bandages on Elmah were gradually disappearing. Then came the third day—the day of burial.

The day broke beneath a gloom all its own, as though the sky itself had taken to mourning.

Omah, the capital of Izz, was never short of movement, of people arriving and departing. Yet the days of mourning had stilled it into an unnatural quiet—something ordinarily impossible. The influx of dignitaries had grown with each passing day, and today marked its peak. Common citizens did not attend, observing instead from their distant regions, while only those required before the King—Dukes, Officials, and Generals—gathered in such numbers that the silent city felt thick with presence.

It was a massive gathering, every attendee a pillar of the great Izz—men whose combined forces could shake any city. Despite this heavy presence, an absence could be felt. The Great General Znoh had yet to make his appearance. Seeing as he was the only general who had not been around during the incident, it was understandable why he had yet to appear.

Ajab had woken that morning barely having slept, his eyes painted with slight stress. He knew he had gone to bed early, yet his eyes had refused to be obedient—and how could they? The lit carriages and steady horse neighing throughout the night had ensured he had more on his mind than his eyes could afford to ignore.

Then Liah came to him, carrying news heavy enough to deepen the ache already pressing behind his eyes. "The Queen says you have to appear at the King’s court today. On a day like this, the Kingdom’s Prince cannot be absent."

His tired gaze settled on Liah. "Why?" The word left him flatly. He would rather not. Custom this and custom that—he had stared at his grandfather’s corpse for two straight days. There was nothing fascinating about it, and no one had asked if he wanted to. By the second day, he had begun to see things differently; his grandfather lay there peacefully, as though truly at rest. Seeing him that way might not have been bad, yet even if he needed to be there, he did not want to—still, he had to, because someone said ’custom’.

This third day, attending the purification rites conducted by the High Priestess should have been enough, yet he was also expected to appear at the King’s court. Liah explained that after the court proceedings—intended as the deceased’s final stand before the court—the rites would commence, and only then would his grandfather be laid to rest in the ancestral grounds.

Though the proceedings were meant to honor his grandfather, it would mark Ajab’s first appearance before the court. Under ordinary circumstances, such an appearance would have come much later—but once again, ’custom’ was demanding otherwise.

"Am I really supposed to be there," he asked, "or does Mother simply want it so?" It would not have surprised him either way.

"As it is an honorarium court proceeding," Liah said, "it would not be proper for the Kingdom’s Prince to be absent."

"Liah, was this Mother’s doing?" he pressed. ’Wouldn’t sit right,’ indeed. Had he declined on the grounds that it was not yet time for a court appearance, there would have been nothing unusual about it. No matter how he examined it, someone wanted him there—and only one person fit that role.

Liah hesitated before answering. "It’s difficult to say whether this is solely the Queen’s wish," she said cautiously. "At least from my position. Would it not be better if Your Highness asked her directly?"

He scoffed. He might have wanted to, but they had not spoken since the beginning of the mourning days. They only saw each other when he attended his ’custom’ duties, and even then, it barely counted—they did not so much as make eye contact. What was he to expect, he thought to himself? She had her sister now, did she not?

"With Mother preoccupied with her family’s wonderful comfort, what case do I have to bring before her? It is either her husband or now her sister—why should I bother?" He smirked to himself. "It should remain this way, by the way. Who would want anything else? Not that I’m complaining, just saying." Absolutely—not that he was complaining.

"I’m sure Her Highness must have been preoccupied with unneglectable duties. There is no need for Your Highness to feel any differently."

One brow on Ajab’s tired face arched high while the other dipped low. "Duties, indeed. I’m not feeling anything—there’s no need to concern yourself." Of course, she would have something to say in the Queen’s defense. And what about his own? Well, he was not complaining. Never.

Liah nodded, knowing there was nothing more to say. Then she added, "The Queen said not to be intimidated."

Despite this being a memorial court proceeding, it still counted as a court meeting—even if only an outer one—so the Queen’s concern was reasonable, though it made little difference to Ajab.

His gaze offered no answer, only a distant loftiness that dismissed further discussion. Whatever the Queen meant by what she said. His reluctance to appear at the King’s court had less to do with anything else and more with the intrusion into his schedule—though he scarcely had one at the moment, he still considered it his. Since matters had come to this, he sighed and stepped into his tub.

The doors to the King’s court loomed tall, especially to Ajab. As he passed through them, the hall greeted him with complete silence, as though it were devoid of life. At the entrance, the doormen offered nothing but silent bows.

The moment he set foot inside the King’s court, he understood what his mother had meant. On either side lay a vastness of presence, like a sea split in two, granting him only a thin path through its depths. Without drawing attention, he inhaled once, steady and controlled, and began to walk.

Perhaps it was only his perspective, yet the court seemed vast enough to contain a thousand men—and felt as though it already did. Every official stood present: High Nobles, war heads, Dorom, and every irk. The eunuchs crowded the outside, with only the High Eunuchs inside.

The sole sound in the court was the measured echo of Ajab’s footsteps. Heads inclined as he passed, not a single voice rising to greet him—only gestures, precise and restrained.

It was the Prince’s first official appearance, and for many present, the first time they laid eyes upon him—just as he laid eyes upon them. Only he wasn’t— at least not really.

Ajab kept his gaze fixed ahead, never allowing it to wander. After steps that seemed to stretch endlessly, he reached the foot of the high steps where his father sat enthroned, looking down upon him with a cutting fierceness. The King’s face was devoid of emotion, save for an arrogance unmistakably his own.

Ajab lifted his head to meet his father’s eyes. It was already a bother that he had to lift his head that much, and now he found himself meeting the King’s stern gaze.

As though Ajab were one to falter at such. To him, that gaze was expected—he was not one to yield to a fierce stare. It was not a competition, yet it came naturally. Ajab’s gaze mirrored his father’s; in truth, it had been that way long before he ever stepped into this court, and now it seemed even fiercer. He bowed at the foot of the King’s throne. Twelve steps only, yet towering all the same. After bowing to his father, he turned left to his mother, seated a few steps below the King’s seat, and repeated the gesture before climbing nine steps to the seat prepared for him.

Only after Ajab took his seat did the bowed heads of the sea of officials finally rise. Their eyes turned toward him, each pair driven by its own intent—most eager to see his face for the first time, others measuring how he held his gaze.

Among them stood Morriba. As High Priestess, she occupied the place closest to the throne steps, granting her a clearer view. It was her first time seeing the Prince, and it was plain for all to witness—the unwavering pride in his eyes. It was like beholding the Queen’s beauty upon the King’s face; even his bearing fell little short of the King’s own. She smiled. Those eyes—where had she seen them before?

In the stale streets of the city of Omah, the rapid hooves of a horse could be heard from far away, made all the clearer by the stillness of the streets—though it felt as if silence or noise would have made little difference. The horse was towering, far larger than any common steed. Each hoofbeat carried an impression of danger; any eye that witnessed it felt that truth instinctively.

Deadlier still was its rider. Draped in black robes from head to toe, his flowing dark hair resembled thick blood. He sat steady upon the unbridled beast, fingers loosely gripping its mane, which flowed the same. His eyes were slitted, his gaze unwavering. He looked like a figure torn from the gates of Shoel itself, and the five riders behind him on dark horses only solidified the image—agents of destruction given flesh.