1. Schwellenangst - the fear of crossing a threshold to embark on something new.
The hall is quiet, the only sound the ticking from a large ornate clock in the corner. Soft warm light blankets the room, dispelling the darkness from outside, but Zen still feels an icy chill shiver down his spine.
"Lord brother?" He chokes out, the sword on his hip feeling heavier than the day he was given it, a lifetime ago when it had been taller than himself. Behind him Mitsuhide and Kiki audibly stiffen, both as shaken up as he is.
Prince Izana raises his head to look him in the eye, a foreign weariness tugging at his otherwise calm expression, "I want you to leave this country," he repeats.
He knows about the unrest stirring in the nearby countries, knows about the sudden spike in underground weapon dealing. Whatever is worrying his brother, is still a mystery however. "Why?" He asks, voice barely restrained into a respectful tone.
"An army of citizens is approaching," Izana's voice is clipped, the under layers of anger filling the room, "they've taken the head of Prince Raj of Tanburan already."
Shock reverberates through his body, but the first prince continues on before he can speak, "I am ordering you to escape this country, hide your identity and live as an ordinary citizen until a better political situation arises."
His fists clenches, "I want to fight."
"Then your death will be useless," his brother turns sharply away from him and stands facing the window that overlooked the palace grounds, towards the distant town, "as the second prince you have the duty to secure the future of this-"
"So you would have me abandon the kingdom in it's hour of need?" Zen speaks, voice tight with emotion, anger fuelling his words, "that's pathetic."
He hears Izana sigh, "I will do what I can for the citizens still loyal to the throne," he turns to walk to his little brother, stopping to look at his family for a final time, "you, however, have a different duty to uphold."
With only a small hint of hesitation he reaches out and ruffles Zen's hair, the first sign of affection shown in years, "go," he tells him, eyes cold but smile warm, "go, before the sun rises."
And Zen leaves, with the furling of his cape and the guilt inside thrumming in time to his heartbeat.