Spring, 13 AH. Arenda Castle.

The child sweated again despite the gentle morning breeze, trying not to look too gloomy on such an 'auspicious' day, as his father had aptly put it. He had been woken early; helped into a steaming bath "to shrug off the last remains of sleep", as his male attendant put it; and having gotten himself a decent breakfast, bid to see his lord father at the castle's training yard for the long-anticipated wing display. Even his lady mother had expressed her consent to be part of this once-in-a-lifetime occasion.

Yet for all Idris cared, that tall, wiry figure--with wavy silvery hair reaching down to his shoulder and deep-set fern eyes--was at the moment talking with some leisure behind the child's back to two other individuals invited to spectate on such a groundbreaking moment; seemingly leaving the young Albinon prince to his own devices.

Idris bit his own lip—partly to keep from grumbling, which would be inappropriate for people of his station, as he had so often been told—and had begun wondering if his braving the heat was in fact part of those skills expected to be exhibited, or if his lord father was simply taking his time.

"Dad," the words came at length, with a tinge of impatience, "is it proper to begin now?"

His father, Ingeras the Second Husniris of Hospodia, seemed to notice him then. "Wait," he called, "I'll be with you in a moment, and then you may begin."

Idris inwardly grumbled anyway as he continued to sweat. Ought a prince be treated like this, in all seriousness?

To while away the time, the young prince decided to recall that fateful day when a liveried male servant had approached him as he was finishing supper and made it clear that his lord father had something to say in private--rare of the man except in stern reproach or thoughtful advice. Conscious of his position and age, the prince dared not turn it down.

Need there be a leader if he's not listened to and obeyed, anyway?

Urdin's nephew needed only one full minute listening to his father to understand what he was supposed to do (and what he had promised anyway), which was why he was here at the yard when he could have had another hour or two in his mother's more-than-pleasant company.

***

"Idris, dear, are you really doing fine down there?"

Presently, at the yard, the voice of his lady mother snapped the young prince out of his reverie. Idris yelped and, looking around, found that Lady Hospodia was standing at the passageway leading to the main castle complex with a worried look.

"Uh... yeah, Mom, I'm completely fine. Just waiting for Dad to finish his casual chat."

"Don't forget to pray. Helps more than you might think."

The princeling mentally agreed.

Whatever would the wings--my wings--be like, and how many of them would pop up? he thought with mounting excitement. Of what color, size, and nature?

Please, oh Allah, Idris prayed on, let them not be shredded nor mismatched. I plan to show them to Uncle if and when we do get to see him...

"Lord Hospodia, darling," Lista called, "please, can you put off the talks for later and just get on with it? Sun's getting higher and I will not believe you invited us here for naught."

Ingeras the Second chuckled. "Why, I was just about to pat him in the back and say it's good to begin. Go on then, lad, you heard your mother. Before you begin, though, I'll let you know of these witnesses..."

Idris turned to see that the two other spectators were now standing next to each other. The lad's father waved his hand, introducing them from left to right.

"This burly one is Hasan Sadanastra, one of our officers; a captain to be more precise," Lord Hospodia said, "and the stout one Saris, Arenda's master-at-arms, whose task it is to help mold our recruits into shape--you included."

They both nodded, in that order.

"A pleasure to personally meet you, my prince," the captain said.

Idris replied with his usual smile. "Yeah, sir, same here."

Aside from his physique, Hasan had fierce-looking gray eyes and chestnut beard, shot with white. He looked impressive in his officer's uniform, with three brass stripes on the shoulders. Despite this modest rank, the princeling had heard it said that the officer was in possession of a saber with a jeweled hilt.

His outspokenness notwithstanding, Idris had not bothered to explore this bit of detail. Perhaps it was a prize of war earned at someplace too distant to recall, or even a family heirloom. What he did know--through informal sources, in whose respect Idris was an adept picker--was that the captain had a son a few years his senior who was eager to join in the ranks. Azumi, that's what some said the lad's name was.

***

"My prince, is anything the problem? We are prepared to witness this display as of now."

Beside the officer, Master Saris inquired with due curiosity. This one was of portly stature, humble nature, a profuse red beard and kindly amber eyes--the man responsible for overseeing and managing this training yard, where three stakes as wide and tall as that many adults, jagged on their lower-middle parts from frequent use, were firmly planted in the graveled ground.

"Uh... felt a chill just now. Wind's getting strong, it seems."

"Bear with it," Ingeras, majestic in the tiger pelt from one of his own raiding days, declared. "Better begin, before you sweat too much. Your mother wouldn't like that."

"Hey, I heard that! Gracious..."

The princeling nodded with some relief at his father's words, and grinned as his mother crossed her arms with a huff.

With his father, Hasan and Saris to his front but maintaining their proper distances, Idris stood straighter, closed his eyes and tried his best to focus. He didn't even know if this was the proper way to make the wings appear, but what else could he do?

It would not do to shame himself as well as these people now.

That said, this would be the very first time that the three of them would actually see the wings. The boy had not had a try in revealing them before this occasion; not even in private.

A queasy feeling wormed in his gut then, as if something heavy and feathery was about to come out with some force; such that even amidst the flurry of winds he could still perceive his own heartbeat.

The princeling found himself in cold sweat again.

Please, please, please...

FLAP!

Silence, but for the wheezing of his breath. Even the winds seem to have subsided.

Idris opened his eyes a sliver, then more fully.

Saris sucked in his own breath while retreating a step; Hasan guarded his look well, like the soldier he was. It was his father's broad smile, however, that told the princeling pretty much everything.

"Did I... pass?"

"How are the feelings?" Lord Hospodia asked back.

The child patted his own belly. "Getting sweaty... and hungry."

For the dry humor the kid got another pat on the head, and a chuckle. "Good to hear. We'll make up for them shortly."

"My wings... how do they look like?" Idris pressed, wishing that someone could just give him a mirror then.

His father went around him, scrutinizing the things popping out of his back, caressing them, looking beneath them. The two other witnesses made no move to interfere, nor did they utter a remark during the process.

"Comely, in all," Ingeras stated at last. "A pair of black feathery wings fitting your body size. Didn't think they've grown to such proportions at your age, though. Must've trained yourself well, no?"

He lovingly pinched the boy's left cheek in passing, sending a faint shade of red to the latter's naturally-pale expression.

"D-dad, that was... un-royal of you, was it not?"

"Ask them."

"Fatherly love, my prince," Hasan put in, to Saris' benign smile and nod. "Better not point your finger on Lord Hospodia too harshly for that."

"Long story short, these are truly my wings, at long last?"

"Indeed they are," Lord Hospodia affirmed. "With those you shall roam the skies, son, as many before us did and those after us shall."

"But why, Dad? People of our kind rode the lands and waters as well, in fact they still do. Why bother taking to the skies as well?"

"Such is how our kind is created, and you know how we must appreciate all that is provided. How best to appreciate wings than use them to soar?"

"That much I understand, but still... you saw how I struggled to get these out, never mind soaring. What am I supposed to do now?"

"No matter; all in good time." Ingeras mussed the prince's hair. "For your age, just being able to seamlessly display the wings is more than I would expect. Let us now see you conceal them."

Idris again concentrated, and the next time he opened his eyes, the wings were no longer there. Seeing this, Lord Hospodia clapped him with genuine affection by the shoulder.

"When you've trained enough, Idris, you might not need to stand straight or at all to reveal and conceal those things, whenever you will. Now, shall we make our way to that highest tower?"

The child beamed once more. Arenda's highest tower was, more often than not, off-limits even for a prince; yet from what had passed between the soldiers, it would seem one could earn a full view of the entire Arenda City just by standing there.

Perhaps knowing this, Lord Hospodia had secretly made it a reward in itself for a feat not many kids of Idris' age might attain.

"Oh, so you do remember, Dad! How sweet~"

"I'm not likely to take it amiss when someone's given his all for a noble cause. Shall we?"

"Yes, please!"

Hasan and Saris parted momentarily to make way for the royal pair; later on they would come off with fond remarks both private and public about the awe-inspiring display and its performer. For the moment, Idris was in for another round of praises.

"Awesomely done, my dear!" Lady Hospodia gushed, approaching to embrace him. "So that's what's it like to have wings. Handy."

"Thanks, Mom. How I wish you have them as well--we could then soar together."

Lista smiled. "I think I'll just have to be content with hearing the descriptions of what you perceive in flight, Id. You will indulge me there, right?"

"But of course, insha Allah!"

"Go on, then; I can tell you're so very eager to reach that tower at long last." She kissed him once on the forehead, having wiped the beads of sweat with her hand. "Careful on your way."

***

As the winds continued to ruffle his and his father's silvery hair in their respective lengths, Idris could not help but be impressed.

Due to the prince's inability to soar as yet, they had gone to this spot on foot, across the yard and past winding stone stairs. When they reached the uppermost part where the battlement was, they were greeted by the captain of a group of soldiers stationed there for that particular day.

"Lord Hospodia, sir. We are honored to see you on this part of the Keep, not less for the lovely day."

Ingeras smiled. "It's not just me this time, Mir. Meet my son, Idris."

The child was greeted with a nod and a smile. "Words are that the prince has earned some renown down there."

"Of what kind?"

"He is known to be very fond of collecting information, including those about this part of the Keep, while keeping in mind prohibitions to ascend it without supervision. I could only imagine his present delight."

"Thanks, Sir Mir," Idris piped in. "It is appreciated."

Mir nodded again, before turning to the lad's father.

"That aside, are you on particular business today, my amir, that you took your time coming here?"

"Yes. I'm fulfilling a promise. At ease, soldier."

Following a professional pat on the shoulder. Mir saluted and went back to his stations.

"Dad, they are no longer children to need pats," the boy remarked when the soldier was out of earshot.

"No, but with pats they will at least notice that you appreciate them beyond their blood, sweat, sword and monthly pay. This is one of the ways loyalty might be nurtured, as your uncle would tell."

"I have never seen him pat any of his men where others could see, though."

"What counts, Id, is that token of appreciation. You can't expect others to watch your back when you ignore theirs, now, can you?"

The princeling hummed reflectively. "That must be why Uncle had managed to win battles beyond count."

"Ah, yes," Ingeras murmured, "so he had. But let's not worry of things not yet of your concern, son, and just savor this view. Who knows when you might get to see it again?"

"That'll be easy, Dad." Idris, smiling openly now, rested both hands behind the head. "I'll get to see this again, and more besides, when I do learn to soar... insha Allah."

"Well said. I pray you can do that soon."

A brief silence ensued while the winds whistled on.

"So, Dad," Idris resumed, "you told us the other day that we'll soon move on to Balaras."

"I did, yes."

"Well, mind telling me what to expect there? I mean, this city is where our House had had its start, rough as it might have been, and where Granddad Husnir had resided and begun his amirate. You're telling me we're just going to put all that aside?"

"I won't deny that, son," Ingeras the Second gazed at the horizon. "Sweet years, they had been. But your granddad had had grand plans as well, one of which that I and your uncle still remember is for Hospodia to graze the horizons and in doing so restore the unity that our people once had. It is progressing well so far, praises be to Allah."

"Just like the Second Kalifate?"

"Ah, we might never equal them in breadth, but we must in principle. We'll see where this path takes us, praying every step of the way."

"Sounds good to me!"

"Your uncle is scaling new heights as we speak; I shall be waiting to see what further deeds you might score."

The princeling balled his fists.

"This I promise, my amir! I'll be one of those defenders of this House that you can be proud of, insha Allah!"

Lord Hospodia smiled, ruffling the child's hair.

"That you do, Id, and do it well. Viva Hospodia."

***

While members of Hospodia's royal family were reminiscing, another less formal leave-taking was taking place. That day, the tenth of spring, Azumi Velandis was finally about to begin his training with his father's acquaintance: Senna Karistra, who went as far as visiting the Velandis family home. As of now she was sitting in their living room with all its members, gauging first impressions.

"So this will be my first pupil, eh?" the female major remarked. "Doesn't look like much, but a good book requires no good cover. When will you be ready to begin, young man?"

"Soon as you care to teach me, er... my lady," Azu replied, blushing.

Senna chuckled. "Flustered, are you? Please don't be. This training would yield little results otherwise."

"Well, I mean... I thought my dad was gonna bring me a male instructor..."

"You wish to be an archer, correct? That's something females could do just as well, as you'll see. I admit, it's rather hard to sell your case when you're not in majority... then again, I am a major. It's about trying out something previously unexplored--you'll find dozens of such cases during your time in the army, I can assure you."

"If you say so..."

Senna rose. "Take off that worried look, young man, and let's just get to it. Might need some time to say your goodbyes. Meet me outside when you feel good to go, and let's not make it too long. Good day."

"Strict, ain't she..." the lad puffed when Senna was no longer around to hear.

"Doubly more so than the basiras, I'd say," came his sister's reply. "Before long you're gonna be pretty much like her, I might actually doubt if you're really my bro. So go on, go after her already and show us what you're capable of in a couple years."

"You sound like you also want to train alongside me, Iruha."

"Would if I could, Big Bro, but Savis is too young to take real care o' Mom on his own."

"I'll help where I can, Big Sis!" Savis joined. "But... we gotta let Big Bro go."

"Go on then, Azu," their mother Eara put in. "For months you said you waited for this day; now it's here, surely you're not going to let it go to waste. Our prayers and sympathies are with you... and that pouch over there. A few week's worth."

"I'll be going with you to the barracks, have you meet a few more heads," Hasan said, "but better not run to me for every bruise. Shall we?"

So began, with prayers and a moderate pouch of provisions, the young archer to-be's career.