Talios-Chapter 46: Yawn

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 mean 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 me 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 me?"

Elmah raised his brows. "Oh... so it’s a different case altogether. You scratch hair that’s done nothing to you?"

"What do you mean ’done nothing’? Why phrase it like that?"

"Is there any other way to say it? Was something wrong with your hair, or was nothing wrong with it?"

"Are you asking me?" 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 some wisdom into that bull head of yours: someone scratching their scalp doesn’t mean there’s a problem with their hair. Do you understand that?"

Elmah blinked, utterly deadpan. "So you’re saying there’s something 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 me—how are you still alive? With a head like yours, someone should have beheaded you long ago."

Ajab nodded in absolute agreement—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 moment.

Elmah stared at him, unblinking. "So something 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 me there," he said, eyes closed. "You had me show my hands without me 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 name 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 name 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 me with it?"

"Well, it concerns you—so I need information."

"And why would you need a theory on me?"

"Aren’t you strange enough? Wandering the palace meadow with no magic, yet wielding a formless weapon. Tell me—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 came 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 Formed 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 me tell you a story. There are only five Modials, each dwelling in one of the Five Known Weapons—called Formed 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 Hammers. These are the only Formed 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 merging 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 Formed 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 mention 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 me: you’re clearly holding neither a Formed Weapon nor the Formless Weapon. So what formless weapon is that? Have the Ecnes created yet another?"

With no other name 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 me? Why would it? I’m just concerned. If you are an Ecnes, playing around with things that, in my opinion, shouldn’t be meddled 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 shame 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 glimmering.