The days that followed all blended together seamlessly due to having no signs of time passing down there. For the most part my days were spent doing a lot of nothing, living in my own head, thinking about things too hard and struggling to get up. It’s crazy how the simplest things can become so difficult, right? There were knights in my stories who would accomplish more before breakfast than I accomplished in the time I spent in that room.

There’s a lot of things I probably should have been doing. For one, I should have been training, but my hands and legs were still in a lot of pain from before and I was only just getting good enough to hold my utensils properly. For two, I had no motivation, and couldn’t find it no matter how much I wished and prayed for it alone on my bed.

I could have been going over things in my head that actually mattered, such as how to go about earning Sage’s trust as a warrior—which, you guessed it, would probably involve me training and being well disciplined. But I was young, and didn’t think I needed that sort of thing. Or rather I knew I needed it and didn’t care.

Instead, though, the big thought that was stuck in my head during this time? Well, there were two actually and they overlapped with each other quite a bit. The first thing that really hit me was that my birthday had passed and I hadn’t even noticed. At least, I was pretty sure it had passed. After all, we were approaching winter and my birthday was in the middle of fall, around the time the trees were typically changing colors and the weather was becoming perfect, the air smelling sweet with the melancholic beginnings of death. Now the air was becoming harsher and more difficult to breathe in, which meant I was fourteen.

A lot bothered me about that. There was no celebration, though typically I never really had one anyway. Sure, my mother would throw us a feast and invite plenty of diplomats, royalty, and usually famous entertainers of some kind like traveling performers or the most loquacious of songwriters she could afford, more so to draw attention to our wealth and importance than it was to celebrate me. Usually I spent my day in my quarters, studying away so that I could carve out my path and realize my dream of sending men to die for me and my causes, to spend more on myself than others, and to bring intelligence into my country more than war.

Funny how much of that had changed in a short few months. Now I was desperate to learn to fight for myself, and to defend people who before I wouldn’t so much as glance at.

The second thing I was thinking of was my mother. The longer I was away, the more people were trying to tell me that she was a bad queen, and a worse person. And despite all the evidence, circumstantial or otherwise, I never thought she was anyone other than my mother. I was convinced that no matter how much she could do wrong, I would never not love and care for her. My doleful days of self reflection were filled with a lot of back and forth over this with me and myself, and I’m not even certain of what I ended up feeling in the end. Did I think she was bad? Good? Perhaps even then I wasn’t sure. I wouldn’t be surprised; indecisiveness is a strength of mine.

Aside from that, I had a few encounters with people between then and the climax of my younger, more childish days. This might not be in the correct order, and the distance between each meeting is blurry at best, so I’ll simply list this in no particular order, just the order in which I can remember them.

I did meet with Conifer. He came as quietly as he possibly could, but was stopped short by Chrys who I’m sure he was either unaware of, unprepared for, or simply scared of. I heard a noise coming from outside and went to see what it was about, and when I got to the edge of my hall I saw him trembling against the wall, withering away in fright, the sound of his instrument tap tap tapping against his fingers, reverberating along the walls. Chrys was simply sitting, licking his forepaw with a glazed look in his eye.

“Conifer?” I said, straight-faced. “What are you doing here?”

“Mint! Get away from him, he’s a beast I tell you! A demon in a fur coat! A bouquet mimic! A—”

“Hey, hey, hey! Take it easy, Conifer, he’s a friend of mine.” To further clarify it for him, I casually leaned my arm against Chrys like he was a shelf and rested my chin on him. Which of course prompted Chrys to growl and almost ruin it. “Just hush, Chrys. Conifer’s a good man, and you’re enjoying this too much.”

He huffed and got up so I had to get off him. “Fine, just don’t do that again,” he growled.

“Tough guy,” I smirked. Walking over to Conifer, I lifted him up and made sure he was alright before asking if he’d like to come sit in my room.

“Anything to get away from him!” he muttered and scurried off down the hall, avoiding all eye contact with Chrys, who just snorted and went back to sleep. He sat on my bed and I rested my back against the wall, crossed my arms and sighed.

“He’s actually pretty nice when you get to know him,” I said. “And you will get to know him. He’s my bodyguard now.”

Looking downcast, Conifer began tuning his guitar. “Well he’s very good at guarding. Scary looking thing! Where did you find him at?”

“Actually, he found me,” I laughed. “Almost killed me too, but I managed to get the best of him. Now we’re companions, no bad blood between us.”

Nodding toward my battered hands, he asked, “Is that how that…?”

“Nah, that was something else,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “Sage says it’s from misusing the Vastmire. I’ve just got to get better at using it and things like this won’t happen.”

Still tuning the guitar, he said, “Good, you’re practicing then?”

“Yeah,” I lied.

“Good, good.” When his instrument was completely tuned he nodded to himself in satisfaction and finally looked me in the eyes. A smile slipped into his face. “I’m glad you’re back, Mint. We were all worried about you, y’know? Especially Rose, she spoke of you everyday.”

“Really?” I asked, a little too excited. To this day, the simple insinuation that a lady might be interested in me send my body into shock like poison in my blood.

He nodded, plucked a string and snapped it accidentally. “Dammit,” he mumbled, then louder, “Damn, damn!”

Absently, I asked if he was alright. He just looked down, frustrated and throwing more baggage in the cage of his head. When he was content, he flipped his hair out of his face, annoyed but cool. “Sorry. Anyway, yes we were worried. What happened on that island, what was it? Clementine?”

So I told him all there was to tell about my time on the island. Sage and Basil were mostly indifferent towards what happened and were much more concerned with the results, so this was my first real time actually relaying the story. I’m sure I embellished it, more so than I have here even. When you’re that age, self control is some unachievable cloud in a sky that seems forever out of reach. Conifer played a simple tune using the remaining strings on his guitar, and though he was obviously perturbed at his lack of options, the song was sonically pleasant and the right background noise for me to tell everything to him. In some ways, his music is a lot like the songs of a charmer, bringing out whatever it is he seeks from whomever he seeks it from.

As I was wrapping up the tale, he said, “Sounds like you went through a lot.”

Feeling wistful, I said, “Yeah,” and trailed off into that somber headspace I kept returning to.

“Have they told you anything about this battle that’s supposed to be coming up?” he asked, strumming a rhythm that was sharp and strange from the missing string, unintentionally creating a suspenseful atmosphere where there shouldn’t have been.

“Not really,” I said. “All I know is that I can’t fight because I’m too important.”

“Yes, that’s why you’re here in this room,” Conifer affirmed. “Good riddance, too. Honestly it’s horrible in the civilian district down here. Everyone is on edge and our rhythm is off without the sun and moon to guide us. Plus our jobs are finished and we only have use as fighters, so those of us who are unable to contribute in the making of war are now sitting with our thumbs up our asses, trying not to kill each other out of boredom and worry.”

It made a lot of sense hearing him say it like that, but I still replied with a shrug, “I’d still feel more comfortable hanging out with you guys again. I’ve got Chrys to talk with and all, but… I’ve really missed you guys a lot, the little family we had was nice.”

Conifer made a sour face at that. “It was,” he said.

Finally putting his instrument down, he stretched out his back and said, “It’s best you don’t get to fight anyway. They say the army coming here is going to be packed with all the strongest warriors they could round up in the Tamarind. If that Bitter fellow shows up again, I don’t know how you could handle it in your current state.”

Of course, he was right. Bitter had nearly bested me before, and I was only able to get in a shot against him because we were unaware of what I could do. Now he knew, and would be on guard next we meet.

Still, I said, “For me, I don’t really care about that.”

“You should,” Conifer raised his voice, sounding more paternal.

“It’s not about whether or not I live or die,” I said. “I just want to feel more in control I guess. Everyone is fighting for me and I just have to sit back and watch. It’s hard.”

Suddenly, he took on a darker face. Conifer got up and said, “No one is fighting to protect you, Mint. They fight for a number of reasons, but I can safely say that not a single soldier on this island save for maybe Sage care about you, who you are, or what you stand for. To most, you are simply a scapegoat. There are plenty of people who speak ill of you all the time in the civilian district, people who think of you as the whole reason everyone is to die soon. And some revel that you exist at all, happy to be of use in war. More still could care less, and fight simply because they know they must survive. But—I say this as a… as a friend. No one fights for a prince they know nothing about, a prince who might not even actually be a prince and certainly doesn’t show himself. They fight because of you, against you, and without you, never for you.”

The words came out harsh, and by the end of it he sounded more sad than angry. It was all stuff I immediately understood, but didn’t really care about. I guess growing up the way I did I was used to it. Without seeing it for myself though, and without feeling like a real prince, his speech felt very meaningless to me.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Thank you for visiting.”

He nodded, and he was off, his words and his music lingering still in the air. The string that had broken was on the ground where he had sat, and I remember picking it up and twirling it in my fingers over and over, etching the texture in my skin.

♣ ♣ ♣

Next was a visit from Parsley and Rose. I was surprised that Conifer wasn’t with them, but was too happy to see them to ask why. When they showed up, I didn’t hear a noise from outside, instead hearing a knock at the door. When I opened it, Rose and Parsley were there, Parsley holding a blanket that appeared to be warm fleece, and Rose holding a cup filled with something steaming. It was aromatic—perhaps tea? If I’m honest, I can’t remember. Her visit was a surprise, and I was wearing no shirt and feeling a boyish gaiety that betrayed my feeling immediately, and my skin heated to unsurvivable degrees. They were both looking more worse for wear than when I recalled seeing them before, obviously under strain from all the goings on around them. Still, Rose was an absolute joy to look at, the sort where you enjoy it so much that you can’t possibly feel comfortable looking and being known to do so, instead trying to glance from the shadows of conversation, unaware that everyone is able to see you, as if you wore pink camouflage in the middle of the ocean during winter time.

They sat on my bed together, and I stood against the wall as I had when Conifer came to visit. Parsley gave me a thoughtful look and said, “Don’t allow us to impose you so, dear. Sit with us, be comfortable in your own abode!”

I smirked, “All I do is sit. It’s better for me to stand these days. Make yourselves comfortable, I’m sure the walk here was arduous.”

“Don’t remind me,” Rose groaned. “I begged mum to let us stay here tonight but she said we aren’t allowed to.”

“It’s the rules,” she chided. “Technically, we shouldn’t even be visiting him, but what Sage doesn’t know won’t kill him, though I’m sure it wouldn’t take much to do so these days.”

“Mother!” Rose whispered with a bickering tone.

“Hush, dear. It’s rude to come visit someone and spend the time fighting. We can do that back home,” she held up the blanket and unfurled it, showing that it was more than big enough for my bed. “This was an old blanket I had back home, and I thought it might suit your needs better than ours.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Just take it, please,” she said, pleading. “We’ve adequate amounts already. Just take it. We’d like to help in some way.”

“Mother…” Rose frowned, then looked at the drink she held. “Oh! Right, here Mint. We brought you something warm to drink since it’s been so cold.”

Smiling, I took it with as little eye contact as possible, because fleeting felt like eternity. “Thanks,” I said, taking a sip. It was hot, and I remember my mouth burning more than tasting anything, but I kept it down and refrained from drinking for a while.

She laughed, “Sorry, it must still be scorching hot! I should have warned you.”

“It’s fine,” I said, spitting invisible flames. “It’s good.”

“Good,” they both said together.

They asked me about what happened on the island, as Conifer had. This time was easier in some ways, harder in others. I already had run through the story with Conifer so it was easier to remember what happened and when, and I had been sitting alone for so long that embellishment came easier; I had already thought of certain things that had happened differently, more details regarding my gallantry. In this version particularly, I distinctly recall not mentioning my injuries, though I had plenty even outside the ones I made on my hands.

More difficult, however, was the audience. Strange how even just an additional face can put the pressure on that much more. I think it was Rose, but it could have been because her mother was there more than her own presence. Lying to her mother was a lot like lying to my own, only with less physical consequences and more cerebral ones, most likely self inflicted. As hard as it was, I tried to focus more on Rose’s reaction, who was able to suspend her disbelief more, though whether it was done naively or on purpose I couldn’t say. Regardless, I was more relieved when I was finished, and felt I had lingered too long during some parts.

Parsley gave me a wry look and said, “Well, what an interesting trip you had,” with emphasis on the word trip. We locked eyes for a moment, and had a lightning paced inner conversation about the how and why you shouldn’t lie. Meanwhile, Rose was looking at me dreamily with those some-colored eyes—blue sounds right. “You’re amazing, Mint! I can’t believe you lived through all of that. And you say Chrys, that lion thing out there, he can talk? I want to talk with him!”

Ignoring her mother, I said, “Sorry, as far as I know he can’t speak to those who are without Vastmire.”

Parsley made an ugly sound and muttered something like, “How convenient.” Rose just pouted, looking genuinely sad that she couldn’t speak to Chrys. Feeling my believability was at stake, I said, “How about we try anyway? He can still understand you, you just can’t understand him. I’ll tell him to do two responses for yes and no questions if you’d like.”

Her mother was about to object when Rose jumped out of the bed and just about ran to the door saying, “Oh mum, won’t this be interesting! Let’s go, come on! I’ve so much to ask.”

With Parsley glowering at me, I went out in front of them and motioned Chrys to come closer to us. He was awake for once, and seemed to already be aware of the situation.

“What should yes and no be?” he asked. “Should I just shake my head no and nod for yes or should it be more like…” He roared a ferocious yet playful roar, making both women with me squeal in fright.

“I think the nodding and shaking would be fine,” I chuckled. “Just make sure it’s obvious which you’re doing and this should go smoothly. Take it away, Rose.”

She pushed ahead of me eagerly, despite feeling scared a moment before. It was strange, but in a cute sort of way, like she was suddenly much younger than she already was. Parsley remained behind me, arms folded, eyes taking in all the information she could.

“Can I smell your flowers?” Rose just about yelled.

Chrys winced, but nodded. I called to her, “You don’t have to yell, he can hear you at a regular indoor volume.”

“Oh, okay!” she said, putting her face into the flowers of his mane. She let out a gasp of surprise, “They’re real?”

“Yep, he has actual flowers growing on him like I said.”

“That’s so neat!” she went back to sniffing them, and I felt the presence of Parsley grow stronger behind me, more ominous. I glanced back; she looked normal, pleased if not vacant. Maybe I was just being paranoid?

“Okay, enough of that,” Chrys grumbled.

“He wants you to stop.”

“Oh, sorry! Your flowers just smell very nice.” She pulled away and placed a thoughtful finger on her chin, rocking back and forth hypnotically. “Well, if you’re a lion and you have flowers growing from you, does that make you some kind of weird plant monster?”

Snorting, Chrys shook his head.

“Well, most monsters wouldn’t admit to it,” Rose said, grinning. Chrys shook his head some more.

“She’s got you there, bud. Just drop it and answer her next question.”

Rose laughed and asked, “Are you really friends with Mint?”

Hesitating, Chrys nodded. But Rose noticed the hesitation and started digging at that for a while.

“Ohhh, look at that! He hesitated, he must not really like you Mint!” she went on like that for a while until she became bored, and if I’m honest I don’t remember much of what she asked. In general they were silly, fun questions that wasted time but were harmless.

While she was asking them, though, Parsley did get in close to me and struck up a conversation that I do remember.

“My girl likes you, you know.”

My neck prickled and I started laughing awkwardly. “Wasting no time, huh?”

“I can’t, because you need to know I disapprove of it.”

“What, you don’t like me?”

She sighed, pinching the skin between her eyebrows. “It’s not that, Mint. On the contrary, you’re a fine young man. You could be a great person when you’re older. But… well, I don’t know. You’re just not fit for her.” She sighed again, heavier. “You’ll just hurt her.”

“What makes you think that?” I asked, genuinely curious. She’d never really been this up front with me before. Most people hadn’t, in fact. It was refreshing. I know I told her so at some point.

Biting her lip, she said, “Well, you’re going on a pretty grand adventure after this. Assuming you get out of this. You’re too important a person; you’ll be constantly on the run, like Sage. And in constant danger like him, too. Rose probably thinks that she’s ready for all that, but I’ve known her my whole life. I know better.”

Smiling sadly, I nodded and stared down at my feet, feeling more comfortable looking at nothing in particular. “You sure know how to make a guy feel great, ma’am.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Mint dear. I really am.” She looked sad, tears appearing in her eyes.

“Hey, don’t cry. You don’t want Rose to worry over nothing.” I put on as nice a smile as I could and held her shoulders so that we were looking at each other. I didn’t last long, and glanced down frequently to hide. “I’ll stay away from her, I promise you that.”

“I’m sorry Mint.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay.” I shouldn’t even be with your daughter anyway, I remember thinking. She’s a commoner, I’m a prince. She’s from some far off land, I’m from one of the largest kingdoms, largest capitals in all the known world. It just wouldn’t work. “My mother wouldn’t approve of us either, if it makes you feel better.”

“It does,” she smiled, sniffing. “Thank you, dear. And I really am sorry.”

“Don’t be. At least you’re an honest woman. There’s few honest people in this world.”

“How true that is. Do grow up to be an honest man, like Sage.”

Those last words felt strange. It could have been my paranoia, or it could have been she was aware of my lies. Who knows. Parsley, for all the things she wasn’t, she was certainly perceptive and strikingly intelligent.

“I’ll try,” I said. “Sage is a lot to live up to.”

“Indeed,” she said, and I think after this we chatted a little but of nothing too concerning. Probably just more talk of the coming battle, and she probably asked some things about Chrys. I was more in my head at this point. What she said about Rose wasn’t something that bothered me right away, but it stuck with me, a knife constantly in the back of my head. I still think about it now from time to time.

Time doesn’t bandage every wound that comes its way.

Soon enough, Rose grew bored and tired, and knowing she had to leave she decided to finish her questionnaire and head back home, which Chrys seemed relieved about; he could only handle so much attention.

“He’s a delight!” Rose squealed, looking much better than she had before. Happiness is the best make up, or so they say.

“Well I’m glad you enjoyed it, I think he’s a little tired of it all,” I said, laughing.

“Oh he’ll get over it,” she said, laughing with me. Parsley just looked at the both of us, her expression unreadable but uncomfortable.

“I’m sure he will,” I said. “Thank you both for visiting me, I really do appreciate it. It’s been lonely over here.”

“Think nothing of it, dear,” Parsley said. “I hope you enjoy the blanket.”

“I will,” I said, and they were off, Rose sauntering down the hall with Parsley titterring after her.

Before I went back to my room, Chrys came over to me and said, “Tiresome girl, isn’t she?”

“Yes, but nice.”

“Sometimes. She seems to think rude can be nice,” he grumbled, shaking his flowers out.

“I suppose so, yeah. You’re probably just not used to that sort of attention though, considering you seldom dealt with people back on Clementine.”

“That’s part of it. Her questions were just too much.”

Grinning, I asked, “Was it so hard to admit we’re friends?”

“We’re not friends, we’re companions,” he said, stiffly.

“Right. Well, I’ll let you relax. You’re all conversationed out at this point, aren’t you?”

“Indeed.”

And with that I laid down, my head spinning faster and faster before settling back to its regular speed.

♣ ♣ ♣

Lastly, I met with Basil just a few more times. Well probably more than a few as he was my food delivery servant for perhaps a week or so, but this instance was the most important of the encounters that happened.

He came to the room with a full plate of food right when I woke up. He had a hot soup for me as he had brought before, but he also brought an extra amount of pastries and snacks to eat by about double, and an additional cup of water. When I asked why, he answered, “Today Sage would like to make sure that he is in top shape, and has asked that I be his sparring partner. That means I will probably be busy later when I normally bring dinner, so I decided I’d bring some more food along this time for you so you don’t starve.”

It made sense to me, but hearing him say he’d be training got me angry. Not necessarily at him, just in general. You know how sometimes you have no motivation for something, but hearing that someone else is going to do it gets your blood pumping and you really hate that you're not participating? That’s how I felt then, knowing I wasn’t allowed to fight and everyone else was preparing.

“You should probably be training too,” he added, like a father reminding you of a chore you’ve long neglected.

“What’s the point?” I asked, haughty. “If I’m not going to get to fight in any real battles, I should probably continue with my studies in history, politics, arithmetic, language—you know, what I was stolen from?”

Basil had been just about to leave, and the door was ajar in his hand when he decided instead to shut it and sit down next to me on the bed. His close, casual proximity had been something of a comfort to me before, but since I returned from my month away he had been more stressed, more serious than he had been before, and his simple act of sitting near me instantly filled me with regret for my comment.

“Sorry,” I apologized preemptively. “I’m just stressed out. It’s hard being locked in here.”

“You’re allowed to wander if you choose,” Basil said. “The civilian district is fine for you especially, since that’s where many others in your situation are.”

I laughed sadly then, and was surprised to feel a tear trickle down my cheek.

“What’s wrong,” he asked, suddenly more concerned than he had been.”

“Nothing, it’s just… Six months ago if you had compared me to a commoner I might have been angry at you. Now I’m just mad at myself.”

“Well, don’t be,” he said, a small smile on his face. “It’s not so much that we don’t want you to fight or be useful to us because you will never be good, Mint. It’s just not the right time. You need more control before you can be a real asset. We left you alone on that island thinking that the seal on you might break and you’d be able to actually use Vastmire as casually as most users do, but we underestimated how much you’d have to unlearn about your body and the strength of the seal placed on you was. It’s going to take a lot longer for you to get good at using Vastmire like we do, and we can’t have you breaking limbs left and right in a short skirmish or two. It would just ruin your body for life instead of saving it.”

I nodded, sniffling. Why was I crying? “I get it. I understand the mindset. Doesn’t really make it any less frustrating, though. Why would mother seal me like that? Weaken me on purpose?”

Basil shook his head. “We won’t know unless she tells us, I think. No one in history has ever been sealed like that from birth, nor have they had Vastmire withheld from them to the point they were unaware of it being so important to war in Tamarind.”

“What do you mean? Is it not exclusive to Avocado then?”

Sighing, Basil looked around a moment and said, “I really should get going.”

“Can you at least answer me first?”

He grimaced. “Vastmire is supposed to be something we’ve withheld from every other country, yes. But you must understand it’s impossible to keep track of every single person. People have travelled, they’ve moved away, they’ve snuck into our country or out. There is a small, but problematic amount of Vastmiric people across the Tamarind. People like Bitter and the other flavor knights are examples.”

I rubbed my chin, nodding. “It makes sense, I suppose. The man I met on Clementine had some kind of power. Influence, I think Chrys called it.”

Basil got up to go, and before he said goodbye he added, “By the way. Don’t tell too many people about what happened on Clementine.”

“Why not?”

He made a thoughtful noise before saying, “The man you say you fought and killed—we got rid of him years ago, well before you were born. His name was Dil the Vagrant, or Dillinger. Some bandit from Pomegranate trying to make a name for himself, but Sage put him down. It’s written in recent historical texts. If someone who was aware of those heard your story it might come across as…”

“Bad?” I tried to finish for him.

“In a word. They could come to a number of conclusions, and none are good. They might even think you’re delusional, young Mint.”

I frowned at that. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Basil gave me an almost mournful look, his eyes both exhausted and very sad. “I’m not sure. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard someone lived after they were thought dead.” He bit his lip, turned away. “It would be the first time they lived through a hit from Sage, though. I saw him die. Dil was an unrecognizable mound of pulp. Nothing in this world could survive that.”

“So you don’t believe me?” I asked again.

“You’re food is getting cold,” he said, and left.

After he left, I remember asking Chrys about it to see if any of it blared a horn with him, but he was as confused as I was. It was frustrating, not only that I was thought to be crazy or delusional but that what I experienced was so different from the reality I was presented.

I remember Chrys also saying, “It might be best not to reveal I can speak, Mint. It seems that enough people can’t understand me that it would make you look much worse than you already look.”

Which made sense, and I agreed to it without issue.

That wraps up the majority of my meetings and moments of fleeting socialization during this time. I’m not sure how much time passed, and as I said before I’m unsure of the order in which these events occurred. I just know that the next part happened last.