"Of course I want to play with you." Fox cocked his head. "Why did you think I didn't want to? I wouldn't refuse the Crown Prince of Silvermark."

Felix glanced up, a patch of red appearing on his pale cheeks. His breath hitched as he mumbled a quick 'thank you' and a muffled, unintelligible sentence which contained the word 'magician'. It was pitiful—the way he looked as though he wished to crawl back into his mother's womb. Once upon a time, Fox had been this shy too when he had been but a boy. Now he was days away from his eleventh birthday, and already he felt like a real man.

Queen Cobra brushed her hand over Felix's arm. "Why don't you tell young Master Fox what you want to play, Fe?"

"Knights," he replied, then immediately added, "I saw you fight—I'm challenging you to a duel."

Fox gave him a nodding bow. "And I accept, My Lord."

As Felix reached for the silver lion-shaped hilt peeking from the scabbard on his belt, the Queen laid her hand on his shoulder. "That's no weapon for playing, Fe. Your father and I gave you that one for when bad men try to kill you again."

"You don't have to call them 'bad men', Mother," Felix grumbled, blowing strands of blond hair from his eyes as he looked up. "I'm nine. I understand our kingdom has enemies—people who want to steal the throne because they think they'll do better than Father. But it's a lot of hogpudding because nobody but Father and me and my future sons possess the divine blessing of the Gods to rule Silvermark."

Not being allowed to talk about his own princehood, Fox lifted his shirt to show Felix the scar below his shoulder. "I have enemies too," he said. "The marble merchant who used to have a cart on Main Street—he did this to me. But I killed him, and now my wound is nearly gone."

"I know." Felix returned his sword to his scabbard, his initial bashfulness all gone. "Mine is harder to heal than a stab wound, isn't that right, Mother?"

"That's right, Fe," Queen Cobra said, "but you're getting better every day."

With lumbering footsteps, the little prince got away from her embrace and approached Storm. He tugged at the sword the man was leaning on. "Can I use that?"

"Wouldn't you rather have a weapon more fitting your size, My Lord?" The Air Magician stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles, then his back. All the while his blade remained standing, as though his hands had never left the hilt.

"Are you going to use magic?" Felix asked. 

Storm stretched his arm, twirling his right hand. "I'm sensing... a shortsword... roughly twenty-five inches... made of steel... blunt edges."

Felix nodded, his mouth wide open. "That one—I want that one."

Queen Cobra was smiling, looking at her son the way his own mother had looked at him whenever he had done something that pleased her. A pang of jealousy struck Fox, feeding his desire to beat the little prince. 

Since both adults had their eyes on Felix, he took a stance, ready to bend the surrounding air when the sword would come flying across the courtyard and snatch it. Of course, he would give it to Felix right away; he was no bully.

Yet as he was visualising the steady breeze around them, a quick swoosh came through the castle's door and flew across the courtyard. In his hand, Storm held a thin silverish blade, half the size of his own, with a hilt that was nothing but a black leather piece strapped to the steel. He gave it to Felix.

With no warning or official start, the first slash came.

Fox only just managed to counter the attack, stumbling over his own feet and landing on one knee. Grumbling, he rose to his feet and responded with a few swift lunges to tire Felix out.

It was working. Felix was already breathing heavily, his attacks slow, sloppy, and as predictable as the steady galloping of a horse: slash, slash, stab, block, slash, slash,... 

Fox followed the rhythm, stepping aside or ducking to give his opponent the impression he was winning. Midway the fourth or fifth block, Fox threw himself forwards and attacked downward with a weakened overhand blow, touching Felix's shoulder before scooping his chin up.

BANG. 

Full force, the little Prince slammed his sword into Fox's cheek. 

Ouch. He couldn't tell what hurt more: the unexpected blow or Felix dancing out of range, his tongue sticking out of his mouth. 

"I got him, Mother. Did you see me?" he cheered.

The two-man audience cheered enthusiastically, clapping and a small jump from Queen Cobra, which opened a gate for the God of Wrath to come crawling into Fox's mind. No more niceties. Felix was rubbing his forehead, squinting. He was weak prey who had outsmarted him once; a second time he would not allow.

Rounding his sword, Fox pictured bright red flames trailing around his sword. Sparks sputtered and sizzled from his hand, but they didn't latch onto the iron. The smell of burnt rope wafted into the air.

"What are you trying to do?" Felix asked.

"I wanna make it burn," Fox groaned, not giving up just yet.

Storm chuckled. "That type of sword—never gonna work."

"Why not?" Fox asked. "I picked it up using magic, so why can't I light it on fire?"

"Because iron repels magic. I can change the air around it, but not the material itself. I'll show you." Storm swirled his hands around, creating a foot-long vortex that twisted on the ground. He grabbed his sword, and as he stuck it into the twirling wind, the air curled around the blade, not quite touching it but still making it move up and down. "The iron will fly because of the air that surrounds it, but the iron will never break, alter, or create any of the elements."

Fox pouted. "So I'll never be able to fight with a burning blade?"

"There are other swords." Storm stomped the stones, the vortex disappearing. "Gold, silver and bronze are known for conducting magic, but they forge brittle weapons. Then there's Chromium..."

"Chro-what?" Fox asked.

"Chromium," Queen Cobra repeated. "The coloured metal."

"I want a sword like that," Fox decided. With a sword made of coloured metal, he would become invincible.

"I don't know how many silverlings your master has up in his treasure box," Storm said. "The metal is rarer than a Greenlander heir, and can only be found in the Hammerhill mines, all the way up north in Ice."

"But you're from Ice," Fox argued. "You could get it for me."

"Or you could come with me to Ice—fetch it yourself," Storm suggested.

Felix yawned dramatically, leaning against his mother's side. She caressed him. "Are you done playing, Fe?"

"No, I'm no weakling. All this talking is making me sleepy." Felix tightened his fist around the short sword. "I wanna continue fighting."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Fox grinned, dashing away from the royal crowd.

Felix came charging towards him with weak, terse attacks, like a worm biting an apple. His breaths were quick and short. Fox easily fended him off with wide sweeps, forcing the little prince to break his predictable slashing routine. It wasn't his intention to make the battle last long. Each hit Felix made was one too many. He was taller and stronger than the Crown Prince of Silvermark.

Allowing the God of Envy to control his magic, Fox launched himself into the air, landing feet-first towards his opponent's back. He swished his sword-arm towards his throat and pulled the boy against his chest. With his other arm, he grabbed Felix's wrist and turned it, forcing him to drop his weapon. 

The clattering of the iron on the cobblestones was heavenly.

"You used magic," stammered Felix.

"We didn't agree I couldn't use it." Fox let go of his opponent, patting Felix on the shoulder as he picked up his sword. "You fought well."

Felix turned towards him, his eyes more hollow and his cheeks bearing a greenish colour. Sweat was pearling from his brow. "But I can do better. Two out of three—no magic this time."

"Fine," Fox said. Now that he knew all the tricks Felix used, he would beat him without magic too.

It never came to a third round. Felix fell down on his knees before the first blow, his body convulsing as he groaned and moaned. Just as Queen Cobra and Storm came rushing towards him, a fountain of a foamy clear liquid spewed forth from his mouth. 

Fox stood by helplessly, covering his nose to not have to inhale the strong rotten stench, as Felix coughed, heaved, and coughed again.

"It's nothing. Better out than in." Queen Cobra crouched down on the stones, in her hand a white handkerchief, the Silvermark lion roaring in the corner. She brushed it over the threads of spit hanging from her son's mouth as he came crawling onto her lap, tears pouring down. "We'll go back upstairs, get you to bed."

"No, I don't want to be sick anymore." He sobbed. "I wanna play, and fight."

She planted her lips on his brow. "Tomorrow you can."

"No, today. I'm no weakling."

"Nobody says you are, My Lord," Storm said, steering water from the Left Twin onto the pool of vomit. "But you have to take it easy now, allow your body to heal."

"But it takes too long. I've been unwell for weeks," he moaned. "Why does it takes so long?"

She rocked the little prince. "Because you are such a sweet boy, Fe. And your body is filled with acid poison at the moment, and your sweet soldiers are fighting, but the acid is strong and dissolves the sweetness. There's a war going on inside of you. Some days your soldiers win all the battles, some days none."

"But in the end, they'll be victorious." Felix flicked his eyes towards him. "Thanks for playing with me, Fox. I'll get better and stronger, and then we'll fight again."

"And thank you for not backing down, Young Fire Master." Queen Cobra added.

Fox shrugged. "I don't see why I should have."

"He is a Prince, of royal blood," Storm said. He gathered the vomit-filled water into a ball and cast it to the river, the stones now appearing as though a small rain shower had hit them. 

Fox thought of what he could say without revealing who he was, but before he could tell Storm that he hadn't backed down for a Prince of Ice either, Katla approached them with rapid strides, his eyebrows twisted into a fierce knot.

"Hiya, Katla." Felix was waving.

"Hi, Felix," Katla said quickly. "I'm coming to take my apprentice home."

"It's fine—we're done playing." Felix said as though Katla needed his permission. "I threw up again."

"But you got out of the castle today, Felix. That's something too."

Felix looked sullen, blinking rapidly. "I guess."

"Fruitful meeting with His Majesty and the Grandmaster, Katla?" Storm asked.

"Always." Katla sniffed. "Come, Fox. Let's go."

Fox glanced up. His fringe was still mostly red; he could still go on. 

"But I don't want to."

"I still would like you to come."

"Why?"

"Because I'm your Master."

And the one who had murdered Mother. Not planning on making a scene, Fox sought the support of both Storm and Queen Cobra; Katla would have to listen to them.

The Prince of Ice gestured to give him the sword back. "You've fought well. Go with your master before he accuses me of stealing you."

"You're always welcome at court to play with Felix," Queen Cobra said as she got up, keeping her son in her surprisingly muscular arms. "I like you, Young Fire Master. You too are a sweet boy."

Fox's stomach filled with so much glee he almost wanted to purr. There was something about Queen Cobra, her beauty, her kindness, and her strength, like that of a warrior. If she had not been holding Felix, he would have hugged her.

 Instead he made a half-bow. "Till the next time, Your Majesty, My Lord, Prince Storm."

"See you soon." Felix was waving at him too.

Katla didn't speak much as they headed home. To each of his questions about Damon, and what King Ariel had decided, he replied with one-word answers. All Fox learnt was that Damon got imprisoned, that he hadn't been paid by King Thomas like Mallard, and that Katla didn't know what was going to happen next.

His master must know more than he let on. Even as they entered their cottage, Fox persisted. "But Damon is a Greenlander, like me, isn't he?"

Katla sighed onto the bench by the table, flicked his leg onto his knee, and untied his boots. "Yes."

"And you can't link him to King Thomas?"

"No." 

Fox sat down on the ground, cross-legged, his hands supporting his chin. "But you do think he has something to do with the poisoning of Panthera and Felix?"

"Yes." Katla reached for the half-empty bottle and filled his unwashed cup.

"I think so too. You'll figure it out, Katla, because Felix is still very ill. It was easy—too easy—to beat him... when he wasn't cheating."

"Hmm."

Kicking out of his boots, Fox changed the subjects. "You know, if I had still lived in Laneby, I would have to do a test to prove myself a warrior for my eleventh birthday. What do the Silvermarkers do? Is there a test too?"

"Not really, they continue learning their trade or master their skill. Some second or third sons join the army, if His Majesty requires more men." Katla downed his cup, then poured the remainder of the bottle into his cup. "How was your training with Prince Storm?"

"Good. He's a good teacher." Fox got up and joined Katla on the bench. "And what happens on the Jade Islands when boys turn eleven?"

"The same as when girls turn eleven."

"Huh, what's that?"

Katla put his arm around him, pulling him closer. "On the morning of their eleventh birthday, a child on the Islands typically gets a handful of coins from their dad, a big hug from their mum, then they play outside from sunrise to sunset with their friends. When the evening breeze starts sweeping the streets, they return home and stuff themselves with cake so sweet their teeth almost turn liquid."

"Can you ask Doe to bake one for me?" Fox found the Jade Islandic tradition strange, as if the Jade Islanders were still children at eleven, but he wasn't going to pass the opportunity to eat sweet cake.

Katla ran his fingers on his belly, tickling him. "So you wouldn't trust it if I baked it for you?"

Fox shook his head, squirming, snickering loudly. "No-no-no, you're not a bad cook, Katla. Excellent milk-heating and egg-baking skills. But Doe is better."

"You only want what's best, don't you?" Katla tickled him harder. "My... spoiled... little... apprentice... who's... getting... too... big... for... his... own... good."

"I'm not. And I need the best because I wanna be the best."

Katla stopped tickling. He squeezed Fox tightly but not so much his scar hurt. His master rested his head on his shoulder and whispered, "Then I'll arrange the best birthday for you. One you'll remember for the rest of your life."

"But one that will make me a man?" Fox asked for reassurance that he was going to get more than coins and a hug.

"A man... and so much more."