The Legends of Kartas | Ongoing

10. TRYDA

"Your Majesty, please accept this tribute from the Wyler clan."

Hours had passed since the Tryda started, but Yoongi still saw no end to the line of people stretching from the dais to the doors of the throne room and beyond. It was an infinite cycle of tribute after tribute, ranging from sacks of grain to stacks of gold, from rich to poor.

It was boring as usual, but today, Yoongi's mind wandered elsewhere because of the incident with the servants and the encounter with Orion. When he traced his gaze down the line of people, he spotted Orion standing at the golden doors, holding a silk-wrapped gift in his hands. It looked like a sword based on its shape, but Yoongi could care less. It was probably another "exquisite masterpiece forged in the Mines of Haren itself." Dull and awful. As everything from Orion was.

"Your Majesty, a tribute from the Orina clan."

Yoongi must've been staring off again because the last person was halfway out of the throne room, and the next was already offering his tribute. This was how the entire day had been, which was troublesome because he needed to concentrate and choose the Prince's Jewel.

Every tribute belonged to the king except for one Yoongi selected. That was the Prince's Jewel. It was a great honor for the house chosen but a pain for him. All the nobles offered gold and fancy weaponry, while the commoners brought food. Yoongi didn't have a single interest in gold or weapons, and the commoners needed the food more than him. It was a burden he wished he didn't have to deal with.

Another person kneeled before the dais and said the same string of words Yoongi had heard for the past five hours. All he desired was for it to end. He didn't need a Prince's Jewel, and as far as he knew, he didn't need to be here.

All he ever did was sit next to the king on the dais and watch the knights carry the tributes away to the storage rooms. He never spoke, moved, or listened unless he chose the Jewel, but that was only once. For the most part, he just sat in silence, his back straight and his face emotionless. Being near the king was a risk itself, but sitting beside him under his scrutiny? May Faestuna have mercy.

Another commoner kneeled before the dais, and Yoongi searched for something to occupy his mind. The servant materialized before his eyes again, but he pushed that thought away. He pondered the experience the entire duration of the Tryda. The only explanation for his illusion that made sense was that he didn't take his pill. Though if it was truly his pill, his senses would be heightened, and his head would spin. But there was nothing abnormal.

And illusions were never a symptom. Yoongi sighed. Thinking about it anymore would make him implode, so he left his problems for later and trailed his eyes down the line of people again. Nothing had changed, of course, but when he was just about to reach Orion, a chill spread from his fingers to the rest of his body. It was the same sensation he felt when Orion had brushed past him after their conversation in the halls.

Freezing, he scanned the last couple of people. The first person was an old man, the second a young boy, and after—

Tremors spread through his body as he stared at a girl with sun-kissed skin, typical of residents of Faxterra. A ragged scarf hung around her neck, flowing over her tattered clothes and tribute covered with cloth. There was something familiar about her that itched at the back of Yoongi's mind the longer his eyes lingered. It was as if he was entranced. He couldn't turn away because she resembled. . . her. His nightmare. His bane. His curse.

However, it wasn't only that. The girl's face flickered and transformed into the servant's for a split second, making Yoongi twitch. The resemblance was uncanny, but it was an illusion.

It had to be.

All he could focus on was the girl. Before, he could feel the passage of time and notice his lack of assertiveness, but now, all he saw was the girl. Everything around him was smeared into black, and sounds became mute as his eyes were drawn to her, to her tribute resting in her hands.