The veins on his temple throbbed. "Cut my hair? Did you just say cut my hair?" Was the lad trying to make a joke?
Elmah’s eyes remained unbothered, calm yet decisive. "Yeah. You can remove everything."
The throbbing worsened. "I should remove everything—you an everything on my scalp?" He pointed at his own head.
Elmah frowned. "You don’t look old, so there’s no way you’re hard of hearing... or are you?" Why repeat the questions? What was his deal?
His face darkened, lips twitching. "You oversized rat!" His voice rose, though not enough to carry beyond where they stood. "Are you calling deaf?"
Elmah’s face tightened, surprise briefly surfacing. "Who are you calling a rat?"
"Who are you calling deaf?"
"If you’re not deaf, why do you keep repeating questions back? Isn’t that what deaf people do?"
"How does that even apply here? With your bull-headed self saying the most absurd things, do you honestly think you’re being reasonable?"
"How much more reasonable can one get? If your hair keeps itching, doesn’t that call for cutting it? Who’s being unreasonable here?"
"This—who the hell said anything about it itching ?"
Elmah raised his brows. "Oh... so it’s a different case altogether. You scratch hair that’s done nothing to you?"
"What do you an ’done nothing’? Why phrase it like that?"
"Is there any other way to say it? Was sothing wrong with your hair, or was nothing wrong with it?"
"Are you asking ?" He pointed to himself.
"Is there anyone else here suffering from hair problems?"
"And who says my hair has a problem?"
"Isn’t that why it’s worse for you? Scratching hair that has no problems with you?"
"I will enlighten you and put so wisdom into that bull head of yours: soone scratching their scalp doesn’t an there’s a problem with their hair. Do you understand that?"
Elmah blinked, utterly deadpan. "So you’re saying there’s sothing wrong with your head, then?"
Znoh’s eyes burned like a furnace as he stomped, legs spread wide, hand curled into claws.
"Ah!" he wailed in frustration, then pointed sharply at Elmah. "Lad, tell —how are you still alive? With a head like yours, soone should have beheaded you long ago."
Ajab nodded in absolute agreent—his heart delighted. Absorbed in each other, neither of them noticed.
The exchange had turned into pure theater for the young Prince. He remained where he was, eyes peeled, watching the two unravel before him, unwilling to miss even a single mont.
Elmah stared at him, unblinking. "So sothing is wrong with it."
Znoh burst into laughter, frustration bleeding through it. His hand covering an eye before pointing at Elmah.
"I won’t grant you your death wish, eager as you seem for it. But I’ll tell you this—you’d better stay clear of my jewel." He stroked his hair proudly. "You have no idea how much effort went into this."
Elmah stared at him, unamused. He’d overthought things. Just like the physician this man clearly had a screw loose; it was best to avoid people like this.
At least he had shown his hands—the one that had blocked his attack. Unless the weapon lay hidden in the other... but Elmah had seen no swap, no misdirection.
Elmah’s expression tightened. "Where’s your weapon?"
His gaze lingered on the empty hand, then slid to the fall of Znoh’s long robe, where the other remained tucked from view.
Znoh stopped stroking his hair and raised an eyebrow. "What weapon?"
"The one you used against mine."
A brief silence passed—then Znoh burst into laughter.
"Firstly, you really got there," he said, eyes closed. "You had show my hands without even noticing." Having pointed at Elmah he did show his hands.
He then opened his eyes and looked at Elmah, who remained utterly uninterested.
"Secondly," he continued, "I didn’t use any weapon."
Elmah’s eyes widened—then his face stiffened. "How could that be?"
Znoh held his chin. "Hm. Hey, lad—are you an Ecnes?"
"Is such a na written on my forehead?" Elmah asked, his expression blank.
A vein pulsed at the Znoh’s temple. "You can just answer plainly."
"I did."
"You—" He palm-slapped his own face. "Are you an Ecnes or not, lad?"
"Why would you want to know?"
"Strange," he said. "I don’t feel any magic from you, yet you seem to be with His Highness."
"Are Ecnes the only ones allowed in this garden?"
"Oh... so you’re not with the Prince, then?" He glanced over at Ajab.
"I am."
He turned back to Elmah, brows knitting. "What’s the na of your problem?"
"I have none."
"Are you with the Prince, or not?"
"And why should I be telling you that?"
He spread his hands casually. "Because I’m trying to form a coherent theory."
"Then form it," Elmah replied. "Why bother with it?"
"Well, it concerns you—so I need information."
"And why would you need a theory on ?"
"Aren’t you strange enough? Wandering the palace adow with no magic, yet wielding a formless weapon. Tell —aren’t you worth theorizing about?"
Elmah shifted his stance, daggers angling toward the man. "What are you doing here, lurking around His Highness?"
Znoh blinked. "Are we still on that? I told you—I only ca to see what His Highness was like. Don’t change the subject. Why are you wielding a formless weapon? I haven’t seen one since the old days. You’re not a Mage, yet you carry one."
Elmah exhaled slowly. "Do the Ecnes wield formless weapons?"
"Yes—and no."
Elmah offered no response—only held his gaze.
"That’s the best answer," Znoh continued. "Yes, because the Mages managed to give life to a line of formless weapons used by Nobles. And no, because that’s the only one they’ve ever succeeded with. Even in mass, it’s the only formless weapon with life."
His gaze sharpened. "So why do you wield a different formless weapon—one with no life?"
"By your own explanation," Elmah replied evenly, "it’s possible I’m not an Ecnes. So why ask if I was one?"
"Lad, an Ecnes can mimic a bond with any Ford Weapon. I wouldn’t call it a bond—just a waste, drawing at most twenty percent of its power. Why don’t they just stick to their magic?"
Only silence answered him—the brush of wind and two steady gazes.
He smiled. "Then let tell you a story. There are only five Modials, each dwelling in one of the Five Known Weapons—called Ford Weapons. Each weapon corresponds to a specific Warrior bloodline. In total, only five Warrior bloodlines exist, and each can bond with its matching Modial: Scythe, Sword, Spear, Bow and Arrow, and Double Hamrs. These are the only Ford Weapons in existence. When crafted, a weapon houses a Modial, which can only bond with its kindred bloodline; otherwise, the wielder goes berserk. A Modial draws on its wielder’s Aura, eventually rging with it, so it can appear and disappear alongside the Aura—a convenience unique to Warriors."
"Then one day, news spread that the Mages had achieved another breakthrough. Before many witnesses, an Ecnes picked up a Ford Weapon—and wielded it. Appalling, isn’t it? These individuals had mimicked a sacred bloodline with their magic, allowing them to command a Modial. No war followed—the King saw it as a benefit for the Kingdom Forces. They could wield it, yes, but only drew a fraction of its power. Yet, combined with their own bloodline, imagine the advantage."
He chuckled, hand on his chin. "Ah, and did I ntion their first breakthrough? They could mimic a Modial itself!" He laughed heartily. "At this rate, they should be called the Mimicknats," he continued. "Still, they earned the title ’the Wise,’ after forming an entirely new Modial—granting those Nobles a bond they could wield: a Formless Weapon. Last I recall, only one type existed." His laughter faded, replaced by a serious gaze. "Now tell : you’re clearly holding neither a Ford Weapon nor the Formless Weapon. So what formless weapon is that? Have the Ecnes created yet another?"
With no other na for this weapon, he could only refer to it as a formless one.
Elmah studied the man; he didn’t seem drunk, but clearly enjoyed telling a story nobody asked for. "Does my weapon bother you?" he asked, flat and firm.
"Bother ? Why would it? I’m just concerned. If you are an Ecnes, playing around with things that, in my opinion, shouldn’t be ddled with, it would be sad—but you wouldn’t be my concern. However If you hail from a warrior bloodline, whichever it may be, it would be a sha to see you waste away. A Formless Weapon could also drive a warrior berserk, ruining their life, so I was concerned. But in any case—it’s common sense." he said, stretching his arms in a languid yawn. "I’ve spoken enough. I’ll take my leave. Apologies for interrupting your evening." He bowed to Ajab and began walking away.
As he receded, that odd sensation crawled along Elmah’s spine once more. During the exchange, he felt a strange calm—but now, as the figure turned away, unease crept back. He turned to check on his Highness. Elmah’s eyes caught the glow emanating from Ajab’s face, his expression alight with happiness. Elmah’s jaw tightened. What had him so gleeful?
"So you finally made your first friend," Ajab said, eyes glimring.
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