The King's decree

Myran was halfway done with his morning chores when the Royal Guards arrived at the temple. He and the other disciples all stared at the gleaming blue and silver armor, at the polished helmets and sword hilts. Even if he would one day be allowed to use a real sword, Myran doubted it would look anything like the shiny blades the guards carried. 

The older looking Royal Guard guided his horse to the middle of the courtyard and pulled out a scroll from a leather bag hanging at this side. The King's seal shone bright silver in the sunlight. 

"Bow to receive your King's decree," the guard said in a booming voice that echoed throughout the courtyard. 

Myran lowered his broom to the floor and bowed his head respectfully. 

The guard unfolded the scroll and read, "By order of King Eaman, all who serve at The Golden Light Temple, be they apprentices, junior or senior disciples, are hereby summoned to aid in escorting the esteemed Steward's daughters on the King's road. This decree is final and all those found in violation of it will be sent to the Poison Isle and face the King's justice. So has spoken the King."

Absolute silence followed the proclamation. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw some of the senior disciples exchange glances. Myran's insides twisted in anticipation and dread. 

Even he, still an apprentice who was not allowed a steel sword yet, would go to the King's Road and serve his kingdom. He dared to let a small smile unfurl on his lips. It quickly vanished when he heard one of the senior disciples speak up. 

"Master Rennin has not yet returned," the disciple, a man of twenty summers named Saman, said. He kept his head bowed and tone respectful, but uneasiness soured Myran's anticipation when the guard folded the scroll without so much as acknowledging him. 

"Gather your essentials," the guard said. "We leave soon." 

Then he turned his horse around and trotted out of the courtyard. 

"Please, sir." The senior disciple raised his head and tried to reach the retreating guard. "We must first conferr with Master Rennin before-"

A thin purple whip cracked through the air and hit the disciple square in the chest. He stumbled back, covering the bleeding wound with both hands.

"Your Master Rennin has been delayed in the Palace to answer for his… miscalculations." The woman who spoke wore purple robes instead of the gleaming blue and silver armor of the guards. Her hair was tied in a loose braid and even though she carried no visible weapons or markings, it took Myran a single glance to know that she was one of Clan Leader Venarec's disciples. A high ranking one, judging by how easy it was for her to conjure that whip. "Be grateful you gutter rats do not have to pay for his misplaced hubris with your lives."

The other disciples were all silent as the woman smirked and left with the Royal Guards. As soon as they passed through the gate and were out of sight, Myran and some of the other closest disciples rushed to their brother's side. 

"Fetch me a bowl of clean water and rags," senior disciple Myrela said. She produced a medicine bottle from a pocket and shook out a bright green pill. "Here, this will prevent infection from settling in." 

Senior Disciple Saman swallowed the pill from her hand, his movements shaky. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his pale lips were dry. 

"Does it hurt?" An apprentice that was the same age as Myran asked. 

Myran slapped the back of his head not unkindly. "Do not ask pointless questions," he said, repeating the words Master Rennin had all but drilled into their heads from the very first day he took them on. 

The apprentice glanced sullenly at the ground, but was silent. 

"Help me move him out of the sun," Senior Disciple Myrela said and the older disciples were quick to carefully move their senior brother into one of the temple's many side chambers. When the bowl of clean water and rags arrived, she was quick to clean and bandage the wound. "Hush, it was a clean cut," she said softly to the injured disciple. "You will probably not even have a scar to show off."

Their injured brother let out a weak chuckle and winced. Myran chewed the inside of his cheeks as worry gnawed on his stomach. He had just admonished another apprentice about asking pointless questions, but his mind was practically overflowing with them. 

"Voice your questions." Senior Disciple Myrela smiled briefly at him before turning her attention back to their injured brother. 

"Our temple is remote and far from the King's Road," Myran said, working through his question carefully. "There are more apprentices than Junior or Senior Disciples. What real use are we in escorting important guests to the Eastern Palace?"

"Some of us may lack experience, but we make up for it with heart and courage. You do not need to be afraid, your Senior brothers and sisters will protect you," she answered, sparing him another smile.

"What about the temple? If we all go, who will protect it?" Myran couldn't help but ask. 

"This temple has seen far worse than momentary emptiness and it will still stand long after all of us are bones and dust." She smiled at him again, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Trust when I say that the whims of a small King will not be the reason this temple falls."

Their injured Senior brother took hold of her wrist and shook his head gently at her. She inhaled deeply and nodded before getting to her feet. 

"You heard the guards, gather only what you need as quickly as you can. Apprentices?" Myran and the others rushed to stand in front of her. "Since you are not yet allowed to carry a real weapon, you shall be in charge of supplies. It is a long journey to the King's road and an even longer one to the Eastern Capital. I will not have us shame our master by starving on the way there. Quickly, now."

Myran and the other apprentices all bowed respectfully and hurried off to complete their tasks. Myran stuffed as much bread as he could into a bag, doing his best to keep everything orderly. He mentally calculated how much of the essetial supplies they would need to survive the trip. 

One of the newer apprentice's approached him slowly, his face a mask of uncertainty. He was a few summers older than most apprentices, but he followed his Seniors without complaining or talking out of turn. Come to think of it, Myran was not sure if he had even heard the other boy's voice yet.

"Would you like to help me?" Myran asked when the boy simply stood there, gaze trained on the floor. The boy nodded and Myran pointed to the tea leaves. "You can grab those. Be careful to keep them separate. Do you know what each one is used for?" Another nod was Myran's answer. "Good."

Myran explained to him how much of each he would need to get and the boy obeyed without questioning Myran's authority. Something about the way he moved and efficiently separated the tea leaves tugged on the back of Myran's mind. There was an almost familiarity to it. But when Myran glanced at the boy's face, all he saw was a complete stranger. 

"Hurry and get whatever final items you require," Senior Disciple Myrela called out. "We leave now."

"Come," Myran urged the other apprentice and adjusted the pack filled with supplies on his back. He rushed to the courtyard without waiting to see if the other boy followed.