"And here begins another day..."

The child, about to take his morning provisions amidst the flickering light of candles immediately before him and the beginnings of snowfall outside, sighed in ill-concealed gloom mixed with more than a pinch of exasperation.

"Do remind me again Mom," he said to the figure across him, "how many days has it been since Dad left us?"

"As of today, fifty six," came the stoic reply. "That aside, how many times already have I told you not to bring this up, Idris, dear? He's not out for whims, you do know this."

"Even so..!" Idris was about to protest, but thought better and trailed off. "Guess there really is not much else to do than pray for his safety, huh..."

"Indeed," his lady mother, Alista Rastenia, joined. "Besides, up until your father's return, this dear home city of Arenda is under your care; that earlier display was simply not fitting for someone in such a position. Keep that well in mind."

Idris sighed again. "If you say so..."

Having invoked the proper prayers, they thus began their meal; accompanied only by the crackling of the logs in the large hearth.

"Which reminds me," Alista said as she was about to taste the oatmeal that was one of that particular day's desserts, "how far have you progressed in that aspect you've promised to show to your father, hmm?"

Her son looked up. "The wing display, you mean? Reasonably well. You're going to see it too, right?"

"I will, insha Allah... that is, if he allows for it as well."

"But why wouldn't he?"

"Such a trait is unique to Albinons, son, and I'm not one. He might regard me unfit to witness it, for reasons familiar only to yourselves."

"Eh, I'm sure Dad would not be that picky. Besides, are you not Lady Hospodia, Mom? Who would want to refuse you?"

Lista smiled. "Brave of you to put it that way."

"Believe me. It is something special, I'm sure Dad would want you to also be part of it."

"Let's hope so."

In all fairness, the princeling's present confidence was not unfounded. Part of his attempt to succeed in such an auspicious occasion had been by spending decent amount of time in the city's library, with its rows and rows of shelves containing rolled parchments and books that more often than not were kept clean from spider webs and the like. With the aid of a lighted candle and Mistra, the nice woman in charge of the place, Idris had managed to get his hands on most of the materials he felt he needed.

Signs of Albinon children, one of the books had pointed out, would begin to show when they were in their sixth name day. To begin with, gradual enhancements in their vision, smelling and hearing would occur, as well as increased speed of their steps by nightfall up until the crack of dawn.

Idris had gone through such phases; and had he been asked, the boy prince would have admitted with some shame that in those days he would often stay out late into the night, only managing to sleep in the small hours of the following day.

In their eighth name day, the young Albinon's wings would begin its own growth, getting larger, wider and thicker with age. As Albinons matured, they would be able to choose for themselves when to spread or hide those things from their backs. They could even practice phenomenal whirls and turns, duel mid-air, and even--if one was daring enough--literally crawl up walls, towers and battlements without the aid of any ropes or ladders.

At this point in his thinking, Idris could not help wondering if his uncle had in fact used such moves during one of his own 'field trips'--as Urdin always liked to call them--and if so, how using such moves had felt like.

***

"Then again, dear Id," Lady Hospodia inquired for the moment, curiosity prevailing, once the dishes had been properly cleared up and they were left alone, "why is it that you seem to regard Urdin so dearly? He is but a soldier, and no stranger to battles and such. What is so likeable about him, think you?"

"Uncle's just a soldier, yes," the child agreed, smiling, "as much as you, Mom, were just a peasant--and I love you both, dearly."

Ten thunderbolts in the room occurring in that instant might not have jolted Lista as much as these words, coming from so young a boy and her only son at that. Shocking as it was, Lady Hospodia found it highly difficult to counter.

However had Idris, of all people, found out about my humble beginnings? the mother thought, awestruck.

"Mom?" Idris blinked. "Are you unwell?"

"Uh... no, I'm fine, as you see..."

"Was it something I said?" the princeling continued, with blatant innocence. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to..."

"Well, it did surprise me," Lista managed, trying her best to recoup, "to find out you love both of us equally."

"Ah, I see." Idris grinned. "You really needn't be. Parents have to be respected; close relatives, cared for. Dad said as much."

"Oh..." Lady Hospodia laid back in her seat, wiping cold sweat, "so that's how it is! Id, you really had me for a second..."

"Now then," the princeling stood, with his usual playfulness, "off I go, to practice! See you, Mom."

"Yeah... do be careful on your way."

"I will!"

***

Try as she did, however, Lista could not shrug off the nagging feeling.

"So now Idris too know of it... Well, he is an avid searcher, that I don't deny; then again, such a line sounded way uncommon for someone his age..."

Mentally fingering her brother-in-law again to be the one responsible for this leak, though readily convenient, seemed nonsensical; at best, Lista could irritate the general and might even lend some credence to the notion that people of lower classes didn't really know anything beyond ill-advised schemes. Besides, as she had put forth to Idris so ardently moments ago, such display would be inconsistent with her present station as the matriarch of a House.

"Then... could Ingeras have been the one letting the kid know? But why..?"

At length, pondering quietly, Lady Hospodia came to this line of thought:

Idris will, as things go, grow up. Being a scion of a powerhouse that was also rising in regional recognition, his social status would sooner or later come to light, subject to question from many sides. By telling him now of Lista's previous social standing, Ingi no doubt wished to ascertain that such a question shall not trouble his future heir too much, or at all. Urdin can then substantiate it and, given his undivided backing, few others would at least have second thoughts about contesting Idris' birthright.

Lista smiled at such thought--one which she might well have labeled as 'highborn' about a decade ago. Now, she found herself quite captivated by it.

"Such foresight... nay, indeed it's not insignificant in view of these Albinons' aspiration to regain their proper place. Gracious, I seem to be surrounded by lions, and not one of which would harm; now, how bizarre is that?"

Thus comforted, Lady Hospodia made a decision to go to the palace's backyard--despite the current weather--to get some fresh air; maybe even catch a glimpse of Idris' practice first-hand.

The cold gusts outside assaulted her soon as she stepped out, wrapped in her fur-trimmed overcoat as she was. Lista managed to stay unnoticed--so immersed was her son in his present project--as she eased herself on to one of the stone benches, reflectively gazing at the sky.

"Oh Allah," she whispered with fervor, "do kindly grant my husband and brother-in-law, as well as people under their watch, safe and triumphant return, that hearts and minds may for the moment be put at ease. To You we all belong, and to You we all return. Amen."

Her prayer properly finished, Lady Hospodia next turned her attention on her son, still struggling to realize his own aspirations. As Lista saw, he crouched slightly, keeping his legs apart and his fists on either side of his torso. His eyes were closed in apparent concentration.

Gracious, she thought, even from here I can sense his determination in this! He must be praying as hard, as well...

So she waited, and waited, with no apparent results. At length, she saw that Idris had straightened his pose again.

"Gah~! Why, just why wouldn't it work already~?!" the princeling yelled to all who would care to listen.

Soon after that, he finally seemed to realize that he was no longer alone.

"Who's there~?"

Lista stood up and approached her 'cub', to his gasp when he noticed.

"Mom? But why, in such weather..."

"Enjoying the view, that's why," came the reply. "Fine work you did there, just now."

"Wait. You saw?"

"From start to finish. Do you mind?"

"Ngh... no, Mom, seems I wouldn't even heed things of this sort right now. No idea when Dad's gonna return, and I still haven't mastered that single move! Gracious, what to do..."

"Mind you, Idris, it's just a practice; I'm sure your father would understand in case of delays, or even Urdin for that matter. Some things ought not be forced."

The princeling looked up. "And what would that make of my earlier promise, pray tell me?"

"Eh... must've missed that part."

"In any case," Idris put in, his childish impatience mounting, "I have to be able to display the wings..!"

"There, now," Alista patted her cub by the head, "never forget to add 'insha Allah'. We never know what the next minute shall bring."

"Insha Allah," the child corrected. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, dear... though it does seem we have to go inside for now, hmm? Getting colder. Good warriors need to know when to conserve their strength."

Idris grinned broadly. "Sounds like something Uncle would say! After you, Mom."

***

As the snowfall outside intensified, Idris once again took to the library, this time to pore over the materials on how to actually materialize the wings. What he found, however, did little to help.

"Now, that's strange indeed..." the boy prince said, his brows forming a knot. "No clue beyond closing your eyes and focus, not even a hint as to which prayer to be recited... Hmm, the wings' state might well be different for each person, then..."

"Indeed they are. My brother said as much."

Such was the princeling's present focus that for a second he failed to notice that Rondra, one of his classmates in the Crescentium Academy, was already by his side and now taking a look at the book over his shoulder.

"Uh! W-well met, Rondra..."

"Anytime, Prince Idris, sir," the latter smiled. "May I?"

"Sure." Idris jerked his head to a vacant spot directly beside him; the benches in the room, twenty in total, could accommodate up to five occupants per side. A few of them were already occupied despite the whistling cold, or perhaps because of it

"Thank you. So, care to fill me in about this wing stuff?"

"Well, you see," came the reply, "I promised my lord father to display them on the day of his return from the campaign, or shortly after. Many will be there to see, I imagine."

"As is proper for someone of your position," Rondra assured. "Needn't be so jittery, now."

"But I'm not!"

"Let's hope you are able to remain so, my prince."

"What about yourself, then?" Idris put in with some heat. "Managed to show the wings already?"

A shrug. "Still got some way to go, but I'm learning too."

"Got the proper beginning stance?"

"I believe I have, this time around. Just last week my brother thrice corrected me on that; the week before, five times. The week before, ten."

"My, sure got it rough... but at least you've got someone to show you the proper way."

Rondra blinked. "Really, sir, and why is this? The palace's master-of-arms is yours to command; didn't you?"

"No," Idris agreed. "Wanted to make sure I understand the basics... well, enough of them."

"Which seems to end now," his companion rejoined. "The master-of-arms might know what will happen past the focusing stage, don't you think? Why not give it a shot?"

"Worth a point... especially since I can't seem to find the clue in these books."

"Oh, those are thick enough, no doubt... but not deep enough."

"Which reminds me," the princeling resumed, "might as well train together! What do you say?"

"Nice as that would be, sir, I must refuse. My training is not to impress anyone but myself; you, on the other hand, have your father's hope and that of many others."

"Well, and how is that so bad?"

"My brother might prove to be a fouler teacher than yours, my prince."

"Still a teacher." Idris closed the book he was reading, and rose. "To reach high, I may have to reach deep as well. Where do you live, Rondra? Remind me."

The other kid gulped upon realizing the depth of the gaze towards him. "Somewhere in Arenda, sir."

"Somewhere in a city entrusted to my care. So go on, be my guide. Please?"

"As you will, Prince Idris... if you would just wait for this weather to clear a bit."

"Be my guest."

***

*Character Section*

Idris Husniris

Alista Rastenia

Rondra