Once more young Prince Idris wiped his forehead with a clean rag, a big smile across his face for yet another fruitful training session with his so-called 'sibling', Azumi Sadanastra. It was just like usual days... except this time, the master-at-arms no longer cheered on such accomplishment; the breezy winds were peppered with dust; and where there had been sturdy walls, there were now only tents, flapping freely even as the ropes and poles propping them creaked and swayed for miles on the vast sandy plains.

Idris was now part of a city on the run. Behind him, the city of Arenda--his House's ancestral grounds--was being fought for street by street, against the invading forces of the Misrian Amirate surging from two fronts in the east.

Contrary to general expectations that had built up since Ingeras' first return from Balaras, the Misrians did not bother staging probing raids; instead, their leaders favored the idea of a single, sure stroke with all they had: seven full divisions to three of Hospodia's own. Such a reckless move might prove to be a strategic blunder, but for the moment it was giving the easterners the results they desired. What remained of Hospodia's eastern presence was now either embattled or slain.

Lord Hospodia had initially insisted on leading Arenda's defense himself "as Yzarc once had, a city away", but had been strongly urged against it; partly with the argument that Idris, the House's current lifeline, was still alive and had to be kept safe. Not to mention, the Purple Letter's instructions (the vital document itself, still sealed, had barely been recovered in a bitter skirmish with the advancing Misrians) were yet to be discovered, and Ingeras found himself quite unable to gamble it away, even at the cost of his ancestral lands and the people within.

With such responsibilities in mind, the amir instead took to the task of directing what remained of the Arendans, fighting men and all, once again to Yzarc's onetime 'lair'--in whose stead Urdin now held sway as custodian. To Ingeras it felt like retracing the paths of fate, with only his lady wife's frequent consolations and their hitherto-unhindered progress westward as more tangible forms of relief.

Their son, however, many years younger, could afford to look at things with fresher eyes. Sleeping and praying beneath the starry sky; hours of riding with one of the scouting parties for fresh forages (or, if he felt daring enough, soaring over them all) whilst trying to identify the distant waterholes and edible shrubs; avoiding scorpions' holes, snakes' pits and fire-ants' tall, sun-baked lairs both by night and day; and most importantly, witnessing first-hand on several occasions the trades with the wandering desert folks, all had helped forge the young prince into something of a natural tracker and bargainer aside from his weaponry skills.

Needless to say, their trek across the scorching and oft-shifting sands was not without its own perils. Of numerous others, Idris had come to be most anxious about sandstorms, a grievous obstacle even to the native desert folks and which rendered flying nigh impossible; not to mention their worrisome after-effects at one's breathing capabilities, of which no advisable cure had as yet been discovered. In fact, seventy of theirs had succumbed to this malady.

***

Day Seventeen since they wandered into the desert.

"Say, Dad," Idris said following midday prayers within their large but unadorned tent, "it's been fun and all riding with those folks, but... how many more days before we get to see Balaras?"

"Last I tried it was about three weeks, not counting ambushes. Lots to keep sharp eyes on, really."

"Uncle has all the powers there now, right? Why don't you let him know what befell us?"

"Even if I hadn't, this is not the kind of news he'd simply laugh upon and put aside. After all, he had plans to welcome us."

The younger prince was not to be so easily put off. "Well, why have there not been word from him?"

"Must be handling quite a few things himself, son."

"Those few things don't include saving his amir, being left out in the open in this manner? Oh, come on--!"

Ingeras patted the child's shoulder, prompting the latter to pause in anticipation.

"Now look, Id. Been handling quite a few things here myself. If you can't think of anything to help with any of them as yet, best keep quiet and pray. My brother has never been known for disloyalty. Understood? Now move along."

"Dad~!"

"Not gonna repeat myself. Go!"

Thus scolded, the princeling stalked out of the royal tent. Along the way he ran into Senna, whose mentor Ukara had undertaken to be part of Arenda's last-ditch defense alongside Mahan and the rest of that city's garrison--some two thousand in all.

Against what remains of the enemy's seven divisions, their chances could be said to be nigh insurmountable.

For the moment, Idris looked up to see her sand-stained armor. "Ah, it's you, Sen. Glad you can be here with us."

"Well, sir, thank you for the kind words, but... in truth I feel I shouldn't be here. Just doesn't seem right, abandoning the House's birthplace just like that and leaving behind good comrades besides that I've known for years. Matter of fact, I'm quite prepared for the general's displeasure, nay, even wrath."

"My uncle's not cruel, you know."

"I believe not, but losing the home base in any war is a grievous slight."

Idris shrugged. "Is that not why we are on our way to the newest home base we have?"

"I-if you put it that way..."

"Trust me, those Misrians haven't seen the last of us. We will yet win, insha Allah, but until then we must be and remain strong together."

Senna stooped to the child's height, gently meeting his stare. Already she can sense his commanding capabilities. "Sir, this coming from someone your age... I am impressed."

The amir's only son smiled back, feeling wise for his years. "Well, you impress my uncle too in many ways. Just think I need to calm you for a moment there."

Gracious, Senna thought as she rose, why am I getting this indescribable feeling of traveling with a younger Urdin now?

"I shall do my best, sir, to help you all reach the general, your uncle."

"Much appreciated. Meantime, can you please train me again today? Got one with Azu some three days ago, but please? Still got some time ere the afternoon prayers."

Senna Karistra saluted. "At your service, Prince."

Idris blinked at such gesture, but grinned. "Now that's more like it."

***

Under such circumstances, the new influx of Arendan refugees--lacking for better terms--managed to reach the city of Balaras, presently under the custodianship of the amir's own brother, in the twenty-third day Whilst the commoners were taken in by the mere sight of said city's sturdy double walls ("Little wonder it lasted fifty plus days", some of them remarked), the amir himself was equally amazed at how, even before they reached the city's gates, they were already opening in the distance as said city's booming welcome filtered out.

Does he not fear any ambushes in doing so, Lord Hospodia wondered, or is he thus so confident in managing to repel any and all of them?

Idris too, seated to his father's front on the latter's destrier, was stupefied almost beyond words. Alista, meanwhile (clad in her unadorned green veil), maintained a steady pace among other commoners, insisting that such was her proper station.

"The wondrous view it must have!" the princeling remarked, to his mother's subtle smile. "So that was what kept you so long back then, Dad..."

"It was," came the gentle reply. "Another good news: from today, we shall all live there."

"Will Uncle welcome us? Must be such a busy man, to still be able to maintain a place of that size together."

"And what would you do if he does? Curious."

"Hug him first thing!" came the thrilled reply. "Me and him, we have been writing letters and poems to each other these few weeks."

"Oh, have you really?" Lista's call could be heard amidst the treads of other steps. When Idris turned to look at her, he could see her smile. "Wouldn't expect less from someone called 'Pensword', I guess."

"True that," Lord Hospodia replied, close by, then the princeling's hair was mussed. "Such a hardy little thing, this one. We'll see what the General Urdin shall make of you when he faces you at last, eh, Prince Idris?"

"Yes, my amir!"

"Best not forget whom he takes after," Lady Hospodia again joined in, laughing.

"Oh my, do you really plan to, dear Alista? Because I'm sure I won't."

Prince Idris, meanwhile, was again lost in wonder as he gazed upon the banners gallantly fluttering at the city's ramparts: a yellow crescent moon inside a leaf-green circle ringed with red, all on a green field. The Green Sun, many referred to those banners.

So it was that, amidst the rising cheers and well-wishes of Balaras' denizens, Amir Ingeras Husniris the Second of the Hospodian Amirate made his second triumphant entry into his new capital.

The amir's family members, along with a small escort, proceeded on to the Balaras Palace's courtyard, where several grooms were already at hand. At the top of the palace steps, at long last, was their host, resplendent in black armor and robe, in sharp contrast with his silvery hair and pale complexion as he smilingly stretched his arms out in a welcoming gesture whilst descending the steps.

"Balaras is yours, Lord Hospodia."

"Has been so since seven months prior, I believe."

Ingeras dismounted, then lent a hand to his son, who in turn ran to embrace the host.

"Uncle! So very good to see you again!"

Urdin took the lad in, chuckling. "The Young Lion, in person. Heard you style yourself 'Pensword' now, that true?"

The princeling giggled. "Thanks to Dad. Seems I'll like it here."

"In time. Ah, now there's the spirited Lady Hospodia. Seems like the extended journey did little to gnaw at your vitality, eh, madam?"

She nodded. "Bold as ever, General."

"The single trait I'm best known for, more like." He glanced at his lord brother. "Talk. Four eyes. Please?"

"In a moment," the amir whispered back, knowing.

"Nice. New throne room, everyone else out. 'Til then, savor the moments."

***

Thirty minutes later.

"Do allow me to put several things in place right now, Ingi," the general bristled. "Arenda no longer ours; its people and castle violated; our years-long presence there fast dimming even as we speak; and all that time it didn't even occur to you a whit to let me know?! Gracious!!"

"Seven divisions to our three, what did you expect? My options were limited. Bright side, Purple Letter's in good hands--"

Urdin glowered.

"Oh, and that'll make it sound more tolerable, huh? Father's hard years of endeavor, you threw away in a spit for some stupid letter! Still seven years' wait and you trade that with an actual city, darn it!"

Unsettled, Ingi rose from his new grand seat. "This is as far as you'll go to question my authority, General."

"Really, and what authority are we even speaking about here? Name me insubordinate if you want, but I'm not letting this be bygones. My word on it!"

So saying, the general put his hand on his sword's hilt... but to the amir's huge relief, such a chance weren't seized. Instead, Urdi fell to one knee, sword hilt clanking, gaze lowered, teeth clenched and his left fist balled as it touched the floor. Under less pressing circumstances it might look as if he was making another show of extreme subservience.

"Gracious, Brother... To think you have gotten where you are with the epithet 'Vigilant'. To think you had gone so far as to convene that grand council in this very same place, and picked me to be in charge, and what to show for it all now? Dust!"

For the next several minutes the great chamber was lost in gloom and grief, even as the amir resumed his own seat. At length the general rose again, swaying a little, eyes red from weeping and checked fury. He strode to his seat and reclaimed it.

"Can only hope darn letter's worth all the trouble then, because if not! Meantime you have an amirate to govern, pretty wife and healthy son beside you, see that you don't let this second chance slip. For now, I'm filling you in on whatever heck I've been up to; be a good man and do not doze away. First on list: Estreon's a friendly neutral now."

Ingeras blinked.

"Wha-- Wait, those very same domains under the uncanny sway of Prince Aerion?"

"Dead now. Lady wife rules supreme, answers to the name of Ashara Darys. The Lioness, she's called. Fascinating."

"How have you come to--"

"Sweet talk. Signed and sealed a pact, name of Eternia, just waiting for your pleasure to peruse it in full. Would you?"

"Getting around to it in time, insha Allah." Ingeras shifted in his seat. "What of the garrison's current strength here?"

"Of the five thousand you left here last time, three thousand remain. The rest have embarked on a new project of road constructions alongside Estreans to bolster trade, as well as the outposts to keep them safe. Another seven hundred earmarked for military assistance."

"I don't recall giving you such permission."

"You did give me leave to commence negotiations with them while failing to specify what other matters were and were not to be explored. Now the seals are dry. Moving on--"

"Hold on! I have not given permission for expeditions to foreign lands!"

"Aye. Who gave you permission to lose Arenda in the first place, then? Bright side is, we now have two trade partners: one quite dependable at sea, the other proven to be stalwart on land. Arenda is a glorious past, as the Second Kalifate had been; but utilize them well and we might have a shot for brighter future, insha Allah; wouldn't you say?"

The amir sighed, exasperated. "So that's it, eh? Close the book, never to be reopened? No plans whatsoever to take back that city?"

"You had three whole divisions armed to the teeth and still lost. What would I have done with less than a third of this number, and being understrength at that?"

"You faced worse odds and won."

"Said someone who faced such odds and run. Now, where were we~"

Ingi trailed off, his mind racing.

If nothing else, I feel I could be credited for managing to stand my ground all these years with a bunch of mental sharpshooters, from father to son... and still Arenda fell! Gracious...