A/N: Okay, sorry this took so long, I had a German exchange staying with me for a while, and that's effectively banned me from the computer. Unfair, huh? Well, here it is, at last, I hope you enjoy it.

The ship they were to be sailing on left from the docks early the next morning. Prince Jerlan, much to Liam's surprise, was only accompanied on his journey by his two Shang bodyguards and a single sober valet old enough to be his father. This had all happened on the orders of the prince's father; it was definitely not Jerlan's own decision. Needless to say, he wasn't too happy about it and was making his displeasure known to all of them.

Very shortly after they'd left the gentle waters of the harbour and passed the twin watchtowers guarding the approach to the city, Liam staggered over to Hassam. He was having problems walking, as the deck swayed this way and that.
"I feel sick, sir," he groaned loudly, his face a shade of green that definitely didn't complicate either his hair or his eyes. Seasickness, as he knew, ran in the family.
"What, already?" Hassam asked, seeming surprised. He, of course, was perfectly happy, running through his drills with the same vigour as usual. "This is as nice weather as we could have hoped for, at least for this journey. We won't be doing any training with edged weapons until we reach port anyway, its too dangerous, so I'm just going to ask you to do your best with the exercises. I know I don't have to explain to you how important they are."
"Yes sir," Liam gasped, and sprinted as steadily as he could for the side of the ship.

The prince, only a few years older, looked on scornfully as Liam emptied his stomach over the side. He had been in and out of boats all of his life, it was deemed a necessary part of his education since Tyra's main military focus was its navy. So far, he'd stayed as far apart from his 'servants' as was physically possible on such a small ship as had been assigned to them for the journey.

Liam was very glad when the long, tedious journey ended and they disembarked. He had been seasick all the way, felt awful and was definitely looking forwards to being able to eat and keep down his first meal in days. A Yamani official, some minor noble, met them on the dock and escorted them to a suite of rooms in the palace. Alas, they contained only one bed, and naturally that was intended for Prince Jerlan. Hassam, who had obviously been expecting this kind of treatment, shrugged and placed his bedroll by the door of the bedchamber, motioning for Liam to do likewise underneath the single large window.

Satisfied at last, he looked at Liam,
"Come on now," he said. "You need to train, you're hopelessly out of condition. I will guard for now."
"Yes sir."

Liam saluted him smartly and wandered off. After asking directions many times - it was a very good thing that he wasn't and had never been shy - he finally arrived at the training grounds. The Emperor's samurai warriors, the elite of his army, were out in force, all training hard. It reminded him of the training yard back at the camp, although all of these warriors were adults, or at least youths. One of them saw him standing in the entrance and came over, looking amused and irritated by the intrusion.
"Are you lost, little one?" he asked, smiling down at Liam. The Shang boy sighed, there were definite disadvantages to being so small - he looked about ten or eleven, not his actual thirteen years. Still, he'd have to answer.
"No sir, I was looking for this place."
"Just come to watch us, huh?" the man said, obviously feeling very impressed by his own skill. Honestly, give a man a fancy sword and he put on airs that should make a prince blush! "I'm sorry, little one, but no spectators allowed."
"I'm not a spectator sir," Liam replied, working hard to keep a reign on his famous temper. "I'm here to train. We've just arrived from Tyra."
"A likely story." Liam inwardly groaned. Did this man think that children only started training at eighteen? Even Tortallan knights started earlier than that. "Return to your nurse, son, and don't bother us again please."

Liam sighed. It looked as if he was going to have to prove himself, yet again. Really, it was starting to become a habit now, he was almost wishing he'd stayed back at camp until he started to look considerably older.
"I'll challenge your best man," he said boldly. The man laughed and called,
"Nuriyo! This boy here wants to challenge you. He says he's a great warrior from Tyra, come to visit us."

Another man came over to them. He was taller than most Yamanis, muscular and moved with the grace of a prowling tiger.
"Cease your prattling, fool, and return to your training. It is not your place to make judgements."
"Sorry Nuriyo."
"You act more like a sakuro sometimes than a full samurai warrior. Now son, are you sure about this, you might get hurt? I'll do my best, but accidents happen."
"Of course I am sir, I wouldn't be foolish enough to suggest it if I couldn't accept the consequences. What weapon would you prefer to use?"
"I have no preference, shall we say that anything goes? It might be hard for you. . ."
"If you wish sir, I'll be fine. Just give me a few moments to warm up."

Liam did some quick stretches and presented himself calmly in the ring that had been formed by the curious soldiers. After much thought, he'd decided not to take any weapon with him although his opponent, a seasoned veteran, was armed with a curved scimiter, deadly for an amateur to use, deadly to have used against you by a professional such as this soldier.
"Lad, you'll need a weapon, surely," he pointed out indulgently, appearing unwilling to hurt an unarmed child however rude said child had been.
"I'm fine without, thank you sir," Liam replied curtly and bowed to his opponent.

That was the recognised sign for combat to begin and there would be no further discussion and no thought of backing out. When the man attacked, Liam flipped neatly over the blade, hitting his opponent solidly in the chest with his feet, following through to put a hand on his neck. Liam held him there for the full five seconds, then stood up calmly and bowed again.
"Do I have your permission to train here now? I believe I have proved myself sufficiently."
"Certainly," a man said, stepping forwards into the ring. He wore the silver star of a commander on his black tunic. "Tell me boy, who are you?"
"Liam Ironarm sir," Liam replied, taking care to be impeccably polite. "Journeyman to the Shang Eagle and in service at present to Prince Jerlan of Tyra."
"Oh, that would explain a number of things. You are a great credit to your master. It is a pity though - I would have sworn you to the emperor faster than you could blink. You are welcome to train with us during your stay here, as is your honoured master should he wish to join you."
"Thank you sir, that is very generous of you. I . . . uh. . . would you teach me to use a scimiter properly sir, because I've always wanted to learn and there wasn't anyone back at the camp who said they could teach me properly."
"If you wish to learn, I will ask the Training Master to instruct you," the commander said, looking respectfully at a boy with such enthusiasm and dedication. "Now, would everyone please return to their work." The men bowed to him, acknowledging the implied command, and resumed their training where they had left off to watch the fight.

After a very satisfying practice, Liam returned to their rooms filled with energy.
"Sir, we can practice with the Emperor's soldiers whenever we like now. I was looking for a place to train, but they wouldn't let me use the court until I beat their best man," he told Hassam exuberantly, thrilled with his success.
"Who started the fight Liam?" Hassam asked solemnly, looking straight at his young protégé.
"Well, I suppose that I did sir, but what else could I have done? You ordered me to train, and I really did need to, and I don't know anyone else at the palace."
"Bow politely to them, just like you've been taught to, walk away and let me sort it out. That fight needn't have happened at all. You just dishonoured a man, no doubt a kind, loyal soldier, at the price of a single training session. Liam, what does the Law tell us about the reasons for fighting?"
"A Shang fights only when attacked, at the order of Mithros, at the order of a superior in the Shang brotherhood unless he knows this order to be misled, in defence of an innocent or helpless person or for the cause of good. He may also fight in a training or demonstration bout, but only having informed his opponent previously of his training and rank in Shang first. A Shang warrior kills only when necessary. A Shang's loyalty cannot be bought by coins but by a kind heart and a just one. He shall not fight on anyone's command if he feels the fight to be against his morals or personal honour," Liam recited dully from the dusty tome he'd been forced to memorise way back at the very beginning of his training at the camp.
"That's enough, thank you Liam. And, having remembered all this, do you think your fight agrees with any of these causes in the slightest? Did you act with honour?"
"No sir. I'm sorry, I'll apologise."
"That is a start, and you will do that tomorrow. As penance for your actions, you will go to the Chapel of Mithros and pray that you can learn to control your temper better, because unless you do, you are lost to the brotherhood of Shang, and it would be a pity to waste your potential."
"Yes sir."