Don’t you know better than to interrupt others’ matches?”

  Julian seemed to be pretty incensed at this violation, seeing as his teammate seemed about to claim the victory but was interrupted by this gigolo-looking ruffian.

  Is he crazy? The thought rang through Ade’s and Yachit’s minds simultaneously. The two who were battling fiercely mere seconds ago were motionless, and only their bated breaths distinguished them from statues.

  “Young master…”

  “Master.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  The sound of laughter came from the youth’s lips, as though he had not just been scolded by a mere servant. It was during this humorous intermission that Julnan finally had a chance to soberly observe him, and what he noticed made him wish for Ani to take him instantly. He noticed that he was wearing a plain black caftan, with only one thing by way of design: a small embroidery on his heart—the head of a lion with a spider in its maw.

  That symbol was only worn by individuals of rank within Jan Zaki; even his own master had not yet earned the qualifications to wear it at official functions. The young Troll felt a stress headache on the horizon, and all he wanted to do was scream out an apology, but he felt himself too scared to do so. Addressing such figures without being spoken to would sometimes be a fresh offence.

  He scarcely regarded the trembling servant, though, and instead turned his amused countenance to the girl who was still in his grasp.

  “My apologies, Lady Yachit,” he said with a small smile. “I really didn’t mean to interrupt your match, but it would be disadvantageous if you were to injure my servant.”

  If not for Julnan’s overwhelming feeling of relief, he would have noticed that he felt uncomfortable seeing that this young man had still not abdicated her hand.

  “T-that’s okay, Master Danjuma.”

  Since when did Yachit sound like that? That was the question Julnan asked himself.

  He had known her intimately for only a few weeks but felt he was keenly aware of her nature. He would have been less surprised if she had grown wings than at this unexampled shyness. It was akin to watching a child after being scolded by an adult.

  At this point, Danjuma let go and started descending from the arena, his gentle, measured steps pulling the trio behind him into something akin to a trance as they followed him down without a word.

  Not long after, the group found themselves in one of the small huts on the compound, watching as the sun began to set. In keeping with the Elven love of Human architecture, this one was done in the style of a Victorian garden gazebo, the thatched roof made to imitate the steepness often found in such structures and the intricate fretwork detailing some arcane aspect of Elven history and legend that the scion before them had probably been forced to memorise at some point.

  His servant was, of course, next to him, and the other two sat on a bench opposite, nearly tangible tension settling in the intervening space.

  “It has been a long time, hasn’t it?”

  Yachit replied robotically and respectfully. Although this wasn’t her usual attitude, she seemed to have regained a level of composure contrary to her first, quite interesting reaction.

  After similar probing and teasing questions met with the same business-like tone and reply, the young master decided to go into what he was actually there for.

  “News of your replacement had reached my ears, but I struggled to believe it until…”

  His eyes briefly scanned the young replacement in question before turning back to the object of his discussion.

  “It is as you see it, master,” she said simply.

  “Hmm. What could that boy possibly be thinking?”

  The words were said quietly, as though not expecting an answer, but his eyes still enquired of one as they peered into the defenceless young Troll.

  “My master isn’t obligated to tell me anything more than he feels the need to,” she said simply. "It is the simple truth that his every wish is my command, and I’m honoured to do my duty to him.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Ho?” he exclaimed with some amusement. “I doubt you took it so well when he told you.”

  Julian confirmed this fact internally, not daring to speak or even nod without being given any permission.

  “If I failed to express proper composure, then it just shows that I’m still defective in my duties and need to be more diligent in the future.”

  “You’ve gotten quite good at this,” he said with a smile, leaning in and placing his chin on his palm, inches away from her face. “Has it really only been a year?”

  Afraid of making a mistake, she kept her mouth shut but nodded. The shyness had returned.

  He seemed to be satisfied with teasing her and pulled back, drawing the conversation back to more prosaic matters, his recent travels occupying most of the time they spoke.

  “I had a failed hunt recently,” he said abruptly.

  The two Trolls felt themselves quiver, covered in cold sweat instantly.

  “We… had heard of it, Master. My condolences.”

  Julian nodded in agreement.

  He smiled vaguely at this and waved his hand suddenly, a gesture that summoned an attendant apparently from the aether.

  They held a rich felt box with the delicacy of a wafer and presented it to the pair.

  “Consider it my apology for interrupting your match,” he said mildly. “Ade would have needed to give you something anyway, so just take this instead.”

  His cordial tone suggested many things, but it did not suggest any room for negotiation, and so, with many words of thanks, the pair received the gift and walked away after being dismissed.

  “Why did you do that?”

  The question was addressed to Julnan as soon as both of them were a safe distance away.

  He knew what she referred to but couldn’t give an answer that made any sense and found himself stammering instead.

  “If he had taken offence, only Busa would be qualified to plead on your behalf, and if he needed to do that, it would have put him in a disadvantageous position during later negotiations.”

  “I know that,” he replied. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for yourself.”

  “I admit I made a mistake, but I thought someone was cheating and interfering with your match. Isn’t it my job to make sure my teammates aren’t taken advantage of?”

  “Mumu." (Fool).

  The curse was heard after a few seconds.

  She looked at him with a complex but clearly irritated expression.

  “Young Master Danjuma wasn’t cheating; he was helping me.”

  “The technique I tried was pretty experimental,” she explained, noting his puzzled expression, “if he hadn’t used a technique of his own to neutralise it, I would have won the match but suffered severe backlash.”

  She sighed in annoyance after her brief explanation. For some reason, her mood was getting worse by the second, and her well-meaning squad leader was the only thing that breathed in her vicinity and, therefore, the unfortunate victim.

  “Why would you use a technique like that over a mere sparring match?” he barely kept his voice below a shouting register, but it was thick with emotion. “If you got injured, how would I explain it to Master Busa? We’ve already lost Iya and Atu; it was completely irresponsible for you to do that.”

  Mid-rant, he was lifted off the ground by the collar.

  “Who exactly do you think you are to lecture me?” she asked furiously. “I’ve been here this whole time, doing my best while you came out of nowhere and somehow wormed yourself into the master’s good graces.”

  “You want to earn the right to lecture me?” she asked, dropping him on his backside and turning her back to him. “How about doing something? How about actually being a man and not freezing up whenever we need you?”

  Her lecture left him downcast, but he could hardly refute it.

  He still blamed himself for the failure of their first mission; he had frozen up and given the enemy too many opportunities to exploit his indecisiveness. The same thing had happened when the Goblin heiress had arrived. He had kidded himself that he was any good as a wordsmith and had been schooled with contempt. He had no reply and, once more, Yachit was the one who needed to step in front of him to take accountability.

  Why am I so worthless? He thought to himself. No wonder she’s willing to suffer injury to gain power... I can’t be relied on.

  Thud!

  Interrupting his internal self-flagellation was the unexpected sound of something hitting the floor, or rather, someone.

  Back in the hut they had just left, someone chuckled.

  “Something funny, master?”

  “Yeah, she just fainted.”

  Ade shook his head more in disappointment than incredulity.

  “She’s a real idiot sometimes; using that technique was very risky.”

  "True," he said, half of his face obscured by a ray of dusky light, “but she is fun to watch, don’t you think?”

  He couldn’t deny it and merely shrugged at his master’s question before asking what his plans were.

  “Young Master Garo will certainly not relieve any of the pressure on either of your ends.”

  “You’re quite right about that,” he replied coolly, saying nothing more.

  The young servant looked inquiringly but didn’t say anything more besides that. He was quite aware of his master’s temperament and knew that he would speak if he so wished.

  “No need to worry,” he said sombrely. “I’ll have my younger brother under my banner by tomorrow.”