It was that time of year again. Winter. 

 

 

King Oh sent out an announcement stating he wanted more recruits for his elite. 

 

 

But not just any recruits. These recruits were fit to last.

 

 

Anyone could volunteer for the Oh army. Volunteers were always accepted. However, the king was on the search for ‘special’ people. People who were incredibly fit and agile, who could withstand the pressure of anything hurled at them, literally and figuratively.

 

 

Zitao heard (eavesdropped) the news from the a group of adolescent boys talking to another. They were excitedly chatting about, deciding who amongst them was the best to get in. 

 

 

From what he gathered, there was a special selection process. Each boy (no girls, not even those who cut their hair) had to be the minimum age of 15 years. The oldest age accepted was 40. Both men and boys were to compete with another in small groups and the winner would proceed and so on and so forth. 

 

 

No charge was needed to sign up. It was a show up activity. The date: November 6.

 

 

An annual event, this was a unique chance. The men and boys who were chosen had private quarters stationed within the Oh castle. A privilege for the best of the best. Of course, their accommodations were on the secluded side of the castle, nowhere near the royal family or their private rooms.

 

 

Life throwing this challenge toward his direction was the opportunity Zitao was waiting for. Something he can use to prove himself, make a new life, a new future. Having many experiences, many of which deal with running away from Yifan, abled him to collect some tricks up his sleeve. 

 

 

When Zitao was young, his father made both him and Yifan practice with small bows, daily. Small, sturdy the bows were, with sharp arrows to accompany. The king made a game out of it to entice them more: the one with the most hits toward the targets (trees or dummies), won. Yifan won every time since he wanted to be better obviously. Not that Zitao minded. The game was fun and his brother was too busy to harass him. It felt like they were truly brothers, harmoniously engaging together.

 

 

It wouldn’t hurt to show up. Zitao had been laying low since his departure from the wagon. Getting a good feel of the town, he asked the locals around for a cheap place to stay, anywhere with a roof over his head. Their responses pointed him to a very shabby tavern. The old lady who ran the place was quite the sight. At first glance, she had a hunch and was small in height. Coming closer, she reeked of tobacco, her teeth were black, the gray clumps of hair looked like they haven’t been washed in years, and her skin was yellowing and had a papery texture.

 

 

Aghast by her sightly appearance, Zitao almost gave in to his instinct of running far, far away. But he needed a place to stay.

 

 

A problem surfaced: he had no money. How was he going to pay the tiny woman? 

 

 

“Good Evening, m’am. My name is Tao and I’m looking a place to stay for a temporary amount of time. Do you have, perchance, a spare room?”

 

 

A glance and one word. “Yes.”

 

 

Zitao blew a sigh of relief. “That’s good.” A pause. “I don’t have money on me but I can compensate my lack of it with work. Is there anything you want me to do? I can do cleaning! I have many years of experience. Maybe some cooking too. ”

 

 

“Yes.”

 

 

“What exactly do you want me to clean? Should I start with the kitchen? The rooms?”

 

 

“Yes.”

 

 

Zitao was put in a pickle. He had the sinking realization that the elderly woman did not understand a word he had said. 

 

 

“You sure ask a lot of questions.” Zitao jumped, looking around wildly for the source of the voice.

 

 

“Don’t be frightened! This is my great-granmama. Can’t understand a you say.”

 

 

He spots a young man standing near the doorway, amused at his vain attempt of talking to the old woman.

 

 

Zitao was surprised by his sudden appearance but shook it off, keeping a straight face. “Right. I will be on my way then.”

 

 

The young man noticed the black-haired boy’s eyes flick with disappointment. Poor lad had hope of getting a bed. “Wait! I heard what you said and I happen to need some help here. It’s tiring cleaning this place with one pair of hands. You will get a bed if and only if you keep this place spotless.”

 

 

He extended out a hand and Zitao grasped back and shook. “Deal.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There was no sign of where he was. Nothing. 

 

 

It was frustrating that Zitao slipped between his fingers once more. Yifan hunted down Zitao like a madman in the forest. There was no trail to move on, nothing.  Except the reminder of the dreaded crown, lying deep in the stream. A mockery. 

 

 

His mother had sent for a new crown to be made for Yifan. His coronation was set to happen in two days time, when he turned nineteen. The whole kingdom was invited. There they would witness with their own eyes, who was to be the new king.

 

 

Yifan did not, under any circumstances, wanted to be titled King Wu the Second. It sent tingles of disgust down his spine. The mere thought made him shudder. King Yifan was fine by him. Nothing more, nothing less. His father was dead and he wanted to keep his memory suppressed, starting with his last name. 

 

Zitao's memory would also be suppressed. His name erased. Yifan would make sure no one remembered him. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The tavern was a good place to stay but not to live. Winter was upon them and Zitao was most likely going to be dead by the end of it. He had gotten close to the young man who offered him a place in exchange for cleaning, but Zitao was pragmatic. There was no way he was going to live there for ever, cleaning for the rest of his life. 

 

 

Taking a seat near the fireplace, Zitao shared his thoughts with the young man. He brought up the recruitment selection and how he planned to give it a shot. The latter looked hesitant, not wanting to let Zitao go. The tavern had started to attract more customers and sales were rising at a slow steady pace, but accompaniment wasn’t easy to come by. 

 

 

“I sincerely appreciate everything you have done for me, Henry. Truly. But I cannot stay here forever. Give me a chance and I’ll prove to you that I can make it.”

 

 

Henry couldn’t say no to the fire in his eyes. Acquiescing, Henry slumped his shoulders and with a tone of defeat said, “Well, I can’t stop you, you stubborn little brat. But the next time you walk through that door, I expect great things, Zitao. Great things. Now go, before I chew my words up.”

 

 

Zitao stood up and gave him a long, meaningful hug. “Thank you, Henry.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The day was crisp, the cold hanging in the air, piercing the skin of the potential recruits. They stood in bands to make the cold more bearable. 

 

 

King Oh and his son, Prince Sehun were already stationed in front of them. Dressed in impeccable, hunting gear, they looked imposing, ready to strike. 

 

 

“You call yourselves men? This is perfect weather conditions. No snow, no wind, nothing. I expect all of you to perform your best today. NO EXCUSES!” King Oh belted out. 

 

 

“Anyone who cannot withstand the cold, can leave my presence now. It will save me and you from wasting precious time.”

 

 

Zitao was amazed. The King was so straight forward and confident. No wonder his army was the best. His voice commanded respect.

 

 

“Every one will be divided into groups of five. Now, go. Make your groups.”

 

 

People scrambled about, joining others. Zitao tried to join a group with boys of his age but they shut him off. Zitao went to another group and was once again rejected. The amount of groups formed were increasing and his hopes were decreasing. 

 

 

A group of men in their twenties approached him and asked if he was okay with adding him to their team of four. Zitao nodded glumly, not caring if they were older than him or physically bigger.

 

 

“Attention!”

 

 

Zitao looked up. The King was walking up and down the rows, checking for mismatched teams. The even teams were dismissed. It was unfair but the King didn’t care. He liked the number five.

 

 

Striding back to the the front, he stared them down, trying to make them cower. 

 

 

His son, Zitao noticed, was standing there idly, gazing at the unknown. Prince Sehun seemed bored. 

 

 

The small sunlight that there was, bounced of his chestnut hair. His face was handsome, Zitao observed. Very handsome. In fact, Zitao liked very much Sehun’s sharp features and—

 

 

“Hey. The first round was called. We need to get moving and get the bows from the back.”

 

 

Right. Zitao needed to get his thoughts straight and not get side-tracked. 

 

 

“What was he first round, again?”

 

 

The much older man looked at him like he was stupid. “It’s archery.” He muttered, shaking his head at his very young and naive teammate. 

 

 

The group headed to the back, where all the supplies were. It was a huge, barn-type building. An endless amount of battle weaponry lined the walls. It was a dream come true for some, their eyes turning round, standing there in awe. They were like children receiving sweets. 

 

 

Row after row of bows. Beautiful wooden arches and lethal arrows. Such a wonderful array of weapons. Zitao felt jittery just looking at it. 

 

 

Picking a bow half his size and some arrows, he turned to what his group. They were still choosing, rummaging for the best. Many of the other competitors chose the fancy bows, the ones with the ornate details etched into the curve of the wood. 

 

 

His group came back with the same bows while others were still choosing. These men, Zitao noted, weren’t the brightest. The bows were not adequate for long distance and in war, they would be killed in an instant. But who was he to judge? Maybe they were experienced and there he was criticizing them behind their backs. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sehun was bored and cold. He hated winter.

 

 

The recruits were disappointing already. Shivering in perfectly good conditions was pathetic. Whoever got in, he would have high expectations of. So far, this was a very disappointing bunch.  

 

 

His father decided the first round should test their archery skills. Rather than observe them closely, Sehun stood to the side, preferring to watch from afar. Thankfully his father had assistants to look after the recruits. Less work for him. 

 

 

Far in his thoughts, he distinctly heard his father’s booming voice announce:

 

 

“Groups will line up in columns, near the line designated by the rope. There are 10 targets. Each is set at 200 yards. Each member of your group is to get a shot at the target.” King Oh paused. “Anyone, and I repeat anyone who misses is automatically eliminated. My assistants will keep track who misses and therefore any attempt of staying is futile.”

 

 

Disinterestedly, the prince watched all groups position themselves behind the line, waiting for the signal to shoot. 

 

 

“Shoot.”

 

 

Immediately, a dozen or so recruits were eliminated. Well, what did he expect? This was only the beginning of the round too. Usually after the first round, the amount reduced by at least a half. It was pitiful. Rolling his eyes, Sehun turned his attention away. 

 

 

Why his father put effort into this, he had no idea. The Oh Kingdom was armored down to the bone. But why? Who were they hiding from? Who were they afraid of? Even their neighboring kingdom, the kingdom of Wu, who was far bigger than them, never laid a finger on them. 

 

 

“Woah, that kid was amazing! He looks weak but even appearances lie I guess.”

 

 

“Whatever. He looks weird.”

 

 

“You are just upset you failed.”

 

 

“Quiet you. You’re here with me, aren’t you?”

 

 

Sehun stopped in his tracks. Maybe there was someone worth his father's extravagant efforts. How interesting.

 

 

Turning on his heel, the prince haughtily sauntered up to the eliminated pair.

 

 

“Who was this ‘kid’ you speak of, commoners?”

 

 

“Who you calling a commoner, you son of a- oh d-dear. Your h-hhighness.”

 

 

After letting them bow profusely, Sehun raised a hand to indicate them to stop. 

 

 

“Ignoring your incredibly rude behavior, I will ask one more time. Who was the kid? I demand a description and a name, if available.”

 

 

The pair look at each other before the one that talked back, answered: “Your majesty, we don’t know of his name or age.”

 

 

The other managed to squeak out the kid was around their age and had very dark hair and tanned skin and dark eyes and that was everything they knew.

 

 

“Your answer was lacking. However, it was enough for me not to hang you by your thumbs down in the dungeons. Now, please leave my sight. Your pleb faces aggravate me.”

 

 

They didn't need to hear another word. They scurried off, leaving an amused Sehun behind.