The silent strike of the knife followed. The atmosphere stilled, and a collective gasp froze the air. Blood dripped to the floor before anyone realized what happened.
Yet, the one holding the tip of the knife didn’t look fazed. Sepehr’s hand grasped the knife, its sharp edge cutting deep.
“His Highness is too agitated to think rationally at the moment,” Sepehr spoke calmly. 

But no one around him, including the assailant, didn’t seem like they heard. The guards were all looking from his bloodied sleeves to behind him with a petrified expression.

“Lord…uh…lord Sepehr…your hand…” the one holding the knife stammered out a few words that barely made sense. He had already let go of the knife from shock. So when Sepehr released the knife, it fell to the ground. Zen looked at Sepehr’s palm, horrified. Blood soaked through Sepehr’s sleeve and bright red lines formed on his fingers and palm.

“It’s a small injury,” Sepehr said, shaking off their concern. “It has already stopped bleeding. Don’t fret over it.” It probably stopped bleeding because Sepehr didn’t have enough blood to keep bleeding out judging by his constitution. “Back to what—” 

The crowd looked more lost by the minute. Sepehr finally looked behind, following their gazes. 

Ambrose was looking at him, veins popping up on his head, pupils shrunken. If rage took a physical form, it might as well be him.
Sepehr looked back at the crowd almost immediately. “Uh- please arrest them for now.” 

“But Lord Vale, His Highness—” 

“I’ll talk to His Highness, you can go.” Sepehr closed the door abruptly, cutting off any chance of further argument. It wasn’t just about privacy, it was about confinement. So, whatever storm awaited, it would remain between them.

Sepehr’s face didn’t know any fear, however, Zen was petrified. So much so, he took shelter on top of the carriage.

“Your Highness, I apologize for acting out, but it would be a loss to kill him without proper investigation.” Sepehr said, “I didn’t mean to disrespect your command. Please understand—”

“What were you thinking?” Ambrose’s voice sliced through the air. “WHAT IN THE WORLD WERE YOU THINKING?” 

Startled by the sudden outburst, Zen floated inside the carriage again. Sepehr looked equally startled and shrunk back on the seat. “YOU THINK YOU CAN DEFEND ME WITH THAT WEAK BODY?” Ambrose looked more agitated by the minute. 

"ARE YOU SO FAR GONE THAT YOU'D EVEN JUMP IN, IN FRONT OF A SWROD? WHAT WERE YOU TRYING TO ACCOMPLISH?"

"Stop screaming at me!" Sepehr’s voice cracked as he shouted. It wasn’t much—barely more than a whisper, compared to Ambrose’s roar—but it was the loudest Zen had ever heard him speak.

The inside of the carriage fell silent again. 

“I’m very sorry for raising my voice,” Sepehr added, “I know I’m not of much use in terms of protecting you, but it is still part of my duty.”

“And getting injured while trying to save a criminal is also your duty?” Ambrose’s voice was quieter now but held equal sharpness.

“It’s not,” Sepehr answered. “The criminal will surely be executed as necessary. But if you were to kill him without proper investigation, what would become of your image? You can’t let emotions get the best of you.” 

“Sepehr,” Ambrose lowered his voice as well as his gaze. “Sometimes I wish we had never met.”
Hurt flashed across Sepehr’s eyes for a moment too brief to catch. 

“I cannot change what has already happened. But if I have become too much of a thorn in your side, do you wish for me to forfeit my position?” God knew what Sepehr intended to accomplish by saying this, but Ambrose looked like his last string of sanity just snapped.

“Are you that keen on dying?” Ambrose’s eyes flared with fury. Another wave of silence crashed between them. 

"Your Highness, I am aware I did something very out of line. But it is my job to show you the right way to act as a ruler. I am willing to receive any punishment you deem necessary for my fault."

“What was that sense of duty of yours when you accepted my lies just like that?” 

“Your Highness, that is not relevant.”

“Why is it not?” Ambrose leaned forward, his voice a growl. “You preach about duty, but you bend when it suits you. Do you even know what you want, Sepehr?”

Sepehr looked directly at Ambrose. “I want to see you at your highest. And I will do what it takes for you to reach that point. Be it standing in front of the sword, or hiding away the marks.”

Ambrose’s hands clenched into fists. His voice dropped to a whisper, raw with emotion. “Do you have any idea what it would do to me if I lost you?”

Sepehr’s expression wavered. His lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. Ambrose’s gaze bore into him, equal parts anger and desperation.  “Don’t you dare leave me.” 

The words hung in the air, raw and unguarded. Sepehr looked away, his expression unreadable. But Zen could see it—a flicker of emotion, a silent battle between duty and something far more dangerous; longing. “As you wish, Your Highness.” 

The argument seemed to have ended, but Zen couldn’t sigh in relief just yet.
「Uhh…people…you are forgetting something.」

Ambrose looked down at Sepehr’s hand and his expression hardened again. “Your hand, does it hurt?”

Ambrose’s expression made Sepehr glance at his own hand as if only remembering about it now. The injury looked more unpleasant now with thin dark lines of drying blood, with a deeper gash running across his palm. He tilted his head slightly, examining it like someone might do for a broken antique. 

“Oh,” he muttered, “That’s deeper than I thought. I didn’t realize it because it doesn’t hurt that much.” 

Zen thought Ambrose’s expression couldn’t get any scarier, but it did, to the point, that even Sepehr had to look away nervously. He opened the door with force.
“Lain!” 

“Yes, Your Highness.” A guy appeared almost instantly. 

“Check his injury.” 

He proceeded to check Sepehr’s injury as though he had been waiting to do so.
“It really doesn’t hurt. It’s not even bleeding anymore.”

“That’s because your hand has gone numb. And Lord Sepehr, you don’t really have enough blood to still be bleeding out, that’s a separate problem.” Lain was blunt. 

“He what?” Ambrose’s voice cracked from disbelief. Sepehr didn’t meet his gaze.

“This needs to be stitched. But it’ll scar if not done neatly. It’ll be better to do it when you arrive. I’ll clean up the wound for now.” The boy was diligent and worked without even paying attention to either of them. 

Sepehr was subjected to another stare-down after Lain left. “Small injury, huh?” Ambrose muttered through gritted teeth. “What should I do with you, Sepehr?”

“I’ll accept whatever punishment you deem worthy.” 

“Even if I lock you up?”

“...I suppose so, Your Highness.” 

Ambrose’s eyes glinted with an emotion neither Zen nor Sepehr could catch. “Remember what you said.”

But Zen could tell for sure that a lot awaited Sepehr in the future.