The Prince's Suitor ManxMan

Chapter 16

Merry Christmas! Yay!

Chapter Sixteen

When Jaicous turned fifteen, he stepped across the border and into Aishion for the first time in his life. Only one gold piece to his name, and his scrambled wits alongside him, he did the first thing any sane boy would do. He swapped his identity. Gadara had certainly done him no favours in life and he owed nothing to his mother country.

He had cut all ties, but there was one tie in particular which needed severing and burying far enough into the dirt that it should never resurface. Even at this young age, Jaicous knew he had to put himself first, and thwart any who tried to challenge him.

His father was a cold and ruthless man. Looking back, Jaicous realised how his life might have been had he stayed. His father had no time for his petulant son, and his mother had died when he was a boy. He had no one else, but he was worth his weight in gold as his father's heir to the Kaiea Seat.

Gadara was made up of ten provinces, who in turn produced an heir. The collective Seat held the rulers of the region and stopped the dictatorship of one lone King. All Seat's ruled equally, but there was an undertone of treachery and murder which followed alongside the power. Jaicous wanted none of that life, and he knew this at a young age.

In the midst of a particularly cold winter on the border of Kaiea, a large province in Gadara, Jaicous hid. Snow coated the citadel in mounds and small puffs of snow floated from the darkened sky above. Jaicous shivered and crunched himself into a tighter ball outside the Golden Shrine. Outside! He struggled to laugh: a pitiful huff braced his numb lips instead. If his father only knew his weapon master had let him go! He shrugged it off. Neither of them would tell and he had been extra careful on his escape to escape prying eyes. He hadn't been left alone in what seemed like days. This small bout of freedom meant more to him than he would admit.

His routine was an endless mix of fighting and learning. He didn't know how much longer he would last. His hands were bruised and his feet ached. If he ever saw a sword again, he would jab it down his sensei's throat and see how he liked it.

He knew not to cry, but he couldn't help the anguish scream which yelped from his chest. All his youthful rage at the world shattered in that one brief moment.

Something fell nearby. Jaicous tensed his body stiff and stifled his breath. He edged his back against the cold brick wall and hoped it, or who, would pass quickly.

A young, white faced, yellow robed man peered atop wall and startled him. "If you're going to sit there all day then you might as well come inside," the youth said, and then disappeared.

Jaicous faltered. Many visits to the Shrine with his father and their entourage in tow had been a tedious experience to say the least, but he remembered those times as clear as day and he had never seen this man before.

Despite his mind clouding with suspicion, Jaicous scrambled up and entered the building on cold and bare shaky feet.

Lit by torches, the Shrine glowed.

"Hello?" Jaicous whispered. Had it been his imagination? "I'll warn you now, if you're going to try something..."

A light chuckle came from a darkened corner and the man stepped into the light. Now aglow, Jaicous could see he was much younger than he'd first thought. The boy couldn't have been any older than he was, but he could see in his eyes this boy was not merely a boy.

Yellow robed cloth hung past the tips of the boy's fingers and beneath his feet satin spilled across the floor. Too big by far, the robe pooled around his body.