“Your highness,” Alae said, opening the door enough to be heard, “One of Petty Princelin Voysh’s guards seeks an audience.” 

“I will receive fos,” Jurao replied, signing the spending report in front of him before setting it aside. It was a few days after the conversation with Petty Princess Zizis, and most of his time had been taken up by final preparations for the Golden Sun Feast only a little over a week away. 

“Good morning, your highness,” the older trollish demon with purple skin and yellow wavy markings greeted, bowing near the door, “I am Aogae. Thank you for seeing me.” 

“Of course, Aogae,” Jurao nodded, “Please have a seat. How can I help you.” 

Aogae nodded in return and took one of the seats before Jurao’s desk. Fos took a cursory look around the office before fos said, “I imagine your staff have been trying to figure out why Voysh was… so suddenly chosen as King Cokor’s successor.” 

“We have been, yes,” Jurao agreed. 

“I thought I might shed some light on that account,” Aogae said, “I am originally from Lajaonar. I moved to Naenga after I was dismissed from service with the Gasieronaos family.” 

Jurao considered and recalled, “Ah, Kloy’s family.” 

“Yes, your highness,” Aogae agreed, “my dismissal was for not forcing Lordis Laesar to a medical ward when ce went into labor.” 

“I see,” Jurao said. 

When the King offered nothing more for a moment, Aogae nodded and said, “I am a master of Water-style martial arts, your highness. Petty Princelin Voysh, when fos was young, found me practicing my forms in a secluded garden at King Cokor’s castle, where I found new employment. As I am sure you know, fighting of all kinds is not very common in Naenga - fos highness fell in love with the artistry of hand-to-hand combat. I have trained fos, and I can confidently say that fos is a natural of hand-to-hand. 

“King Cokor discovered us sparring after you successfully besieged the city,” Aogae went on, “She had not known before - and I had not been aware that fos highness was one of her children until then. I likely would not have taken the risk of teaching fos, if I had known.” 

“The risk,” Jurao asked.

“Combat is… seen as antithetical to art, in much of Naengaquena,” Aogae explained, “A necessary evil. It was… quite an adjustment when I first moved there. Weapons are still prized as works of art, but combat itself is frowned upon. Their plateau is so protected, they long ago decided the city should be a haven from the violence so present in the rest of the realm. Almost all guards are hired from outside the city, like me, though mostly Mesescima. So for a local child born of the King and the Guildmaster of the Artisan Guild to be taught combat would have made me very unpopular, your highness.” 

“Yes, I see,” Jurao nodded. 

“King Cokor intends to introduce hand-to-hand combat widely through the city as an art form,” Aogae said, “She had seen hand-to-hand before, but she had never seen a spar nor practice of forms. When she saw Voysh and I - fos highness, and I - she too saw the beauty in the style. And, seeing how defenseless the city was when Mesescima pulled its usual support away during your siege… she thought, perhaps, there was merit in making sure those born in Naenga could defend themselves.” 

“Ah,” Jurao nodded, “So she chose Voysh to represent this change in position.” 

“Yes, your highness,” Aogae agreed - then hesitated before adding, “Except fos has no confidence in fos-self, and especially not in fos ability to lead others. Fos has always treated fos skill in combat as a secret, as you might imagine, and has never held any position of power. On behalf of King Cokor, I would like to ask you to take Voysh under your instruction, your highness.” 

Jurao considered this. It was not uncommon - Hujur and Ergirri had both told him to expect a few of the representatives to ask for such a favor. He did not need to instruct directly at all times - in fact, it was more expected that he would find a Department Head for the princelin to shadow most of the time and have monthly meetings to see how they were getting on. Otherwise, he could not be expected to accept many such requests, which would make the political situation of accepting more… complicated. 

“As fos is meant to represent Naegnaquena’s new acceptance of hand-to-hand combat as an art,” Jurao said, “I believe Kloy would be a good instructor for Petty Princelin Voysh, as he is also a practitioner. Sun-style, I believe.”

“Sun-style?” Aogae frowned. 

“Perhaps because his patron is Maenscul,” the King suggested. 

Aogae considered this before fos said, “Perhaps. I know fos highness will not object to any choice, so we will await your reply - I am sure you need to consult with Lord Kloy, your highness.” 

“Yes, I will have word back to you when we know - what is your rank, Aogae.” 

“Petty Lord, your highness,” Aogae replied, standing. 

“I will have word back to you when I have spoken with Kloy, Lord Aogae,” Jurao said, “You are dismissed.” 

“Thank you, your highness,” Aogae said, taking his leave. 

Jurao had the opportunity to ask Kloy at the midday meal, as the doctor joined them with Feyl. 

“A Jiesouvislae that knows hand-to-hand combat,” Kloy mused, “Well, I have no issues taking fos under my wing, my lord. Especially with my very competent cousin easing my workload.” 

“Thank you,” Jaevve said, grinning in response, “I can certainly help out with a fellow petty royal as well.” 

“Lord Aogae seemed confused that you use Sun-style - if I remembered correctly,” Jurao said. 

“He would be,” Kloy agreed, “Since everyone else in my family learns Water-style.” 

“Water-style is associated with Vasculas,” Jaevve said, watching Henes and Amancia chasing about Snip and Snap in the Pond Garden a moment before she added, “It is believed to be the style she adapted from Sun-style - Maenscul’s style, the first. Gaegaehados learn Sun-style - Gasieronaoses learn Water-style.” 

“Part of my rebellious phase was rather embracing Maenscul as a patron,” Kloy said, chuckling. 

“How many styles of hand-to-hand are there?” Feyl asked, using his partner’s lap as a pillow. 

“Oh, several major styles,” Kloy replied, “All named for deities that either directly derived a style or those that derived a style based on that deity - Fire-style is most popular in Scagesmaes, for Cegae. Looks much like someone playing an invisible rock drum, leaping about.” 

“Star-style, for Ovvislae,” Jaevve said, “Mostly used by assassins; very difficult to find a teacher without apprenticing to become one, as I understand it.” 

“I do believe Vajur knows it,” Kloy said, “whether he would be willing to teach it to Petty Princelin Voysh, I couldn’t say.” 

“I suppose that explains why neither of you carry a weapon,” Braelin said, leaning into Jurao’s side. 

“Who needs to carry one if you can be the weapon?” Jaevve agreed with a grin. 

“Though I do wonder,” Braelin said, “why did Aogae move to a new city for his dismissal?” 

“Gasieronaoses can be rather petty when it comes to incidents they feel damage the family’s reputation,” Kloy replied, “For allowing me to be born with the wrong patron, I have no issue believing my father made finding new employment in Lajaonar very difficult for him. I should tell Oko he’s here - ce was very grateful to him when he was one of cer guards.”

“I did not think to mention ce was in the city when he mentioned the connection,” Jurao said.

“I would not expect you to, my lord,” Kloy said, smiling. 

Feyl snorted, “You’ve started using less practiced smiles around Jurao.” 

Kloy’s smile grew as he looked down at his gieuls and said, “Sometimes I forget I’m even doing so. Habit, you know.” 

“You used to do that!” Malson said, elbowing Braelin. 

“Did I?” Braelin asked. 

“Not as bad as Feyl,” Malson shrugged, “but yeah!”

Feyl rolled his eyes before sitting up with a grunt, “How are you feeling about dancing at the feast, Braelin?” 

Braelin sighed, “Will I have to dance more than once?” 

Kloy chuckled, “Once will be sufficient for the religious purposes of the event. More would be socially preferable, but as your dislike of public attention is well known by now, I do not see much being made of it.” 

“At least, not by anyone not looking for something to complain about because you’re human and there’s nothing else they can do about it,” Feyl said. 

“We’ve stopped running into each other,” Jurao said. 

Braelin smiled up at him and said, “Yes, and I have stopped stepping on your feet, so I think the dance itself will be fine.” 

“If Jurao would dance with other partners after your dance together,” Feyl added, “it would also ease any complaints about you only participating in one dance.” 

“I can do that,” Jurao said. 

“Strangers, not just your friends,” Feyl said. 

Jurao hummed and repeated more reluctantly, “I can do that.” 

Braelin chuckled, “Thank you for your sacrifice, my heart.” 

“Of course,” Jurao said, tousling his partner’s hair. 

“Do you, ah,” Mesaes said - then Jurao’s uncle cleared his throat before asking, “Do you intend to join Jurao on his tour of the realm after the Hundred Years Ball, Braelin?” 

“Oh,” Jurao said, “I had not thought to bring it up yet.” 

“Forvi told me about it,” Braelin said, “I assumed you would ask when it was closer to the event.” 

The King nodded and asked, “Did you want to go.” 

“I did,” Braelin replied with a smile, “I’d be excited to see the plants in the rest of the realm.” 

Jurao’s tail swished in the grass as the predictable answer made him smile. 

Meseas hesitantly smiled as well before he said, “I asked because I’m sure Celas will seek an audience when you visit Mesescima. I… don’t think ce will be very happy about your human partner.” 

Nevve snorted, “That’s hardly going to bother either of them.”

“Yes,” Meseas chuckled, “But I was thinking about how I’m not sure Lala will know what to do when they aren’t bothered.” 

Nevve laughed in surprise, “I almost want to go so I can see it!” 

“What do you mean,” Jurao asked. 

“Most people are scared of Lala,” Nevve said, “and I always butted heads with cer. But you won’t be scared or start a fight, and your saelas isn’t used to people just not giving a shit what ce has to say about them.” 

“I see,” Jurao said. He had experienced such a thing before on a few occasions - though he had not noticed a pattern in how people reacted to his lack of care for their opinions, as his aunt put it. Some became angry, and others appeared to have their own emotions lessened by a lack of reaction. He could not say how his saelas would react any more than his aunt and uncle could. Instead of guessing, he asked, “Is Petty Prince Saerma doing well in the smithy.” 

“I admit, he surprised me,” Nevve replied, “A Voygae that knows smithing. Almost as strange as a Maesculiken that doesn’t smith.” 

“I wonder what surprises the other petty royals will have for us,” Kloy said.

“I hope most of them are good,” Braelin said, “I would prefer no more duels to the death.” 

“I would hardly say it puts the plants in danger,” Feyl snorted, “Not when it’s just one person.” 

“I could Champion you next time,” Jurao said.

Braelin smiled up at him and replied, “No, thank you, my heart. I do worry about the plants, but they like defending me - and it’s easier for them to hold back than you.” 

Jurao tussled his partner’s hair and said, “That is probably true.”