A.N. Thanks to CrazyDyslexicNerd for responding to my pleas. Some of the ideas (or most of them) were given to me by CrazyDyslexicNerd, so thanks for that. Also, to people who are reading this, sorry for the delay.

The next morning, Emeth rose very, very early. In fact, the Sun hadn't even seen fit to grace Archenland with it's presence. So, he got up, dressed, and prepared for the day. Spontaneously, he decided to practice his scimitar fighting down in the courts. He tiptoed past everyone's rooms and attempted to avoid contact with anyone who would recognize him. In other words, everyone.

When he arrived at the courts, several soldiers were already there, including the prince with the black eye. Prince Corin, Emeth remembered his name was. Prince Corin was bare at the chest, and sported several bruises and scars. He was an impressive man. At the moment though, he looked as if he were preparing for battle. Across from him was another man, also bare at the chest. The two men saluted each other with their fists and began.

As long as Emeth lived, he never saw another man who boxed as well as Prince Corin. His blows were powerful and well-aimed. Within a few minutes, the other man received a hard blow to his ribs and he collapsed. Price Corin immediately backed down.

"Alright, Cole?" he asked, helping the other man to is feet.

"Excellent job, Your Highness," the man gasped. "No one has ever winded me so quickly." He spat out something that looked very much like blood and saliva, and something else that Emeth strongly suspected were teeth. "Good morning, good sir," the man said as cheerfully as one can when one's recently been relieved of several teeth.

"Fair morning, Lord Cole," Emeth replied respectfully. He hoped he wasn't overstepping any boundaries. In Calormen, the way he had spoken to the other man would have been considered disgraceful if the other man had been of higher rank. As it was, Lord Cole hardly seemed offended.

"You're with the Calormene party, aren't you?" Prince Corin asked curiously. Unlike his brother Cor, his voice was purely in the clipped tones of the Archen people.

"Yes, I am Emeth Tarkaan, son of Kidrash Tarkaan, son of-"

"You needn't go into all the details!" Prince Corin interrupted quickly. Emeth suppressed a laugh. He'd forgotten how little northerners cared for genealogy. For them, it merely sufficed to have your predecessors name's written somewhere, as opposed to announcing it when one introduced oneself. Emeth himself didn't particularly care for who his great-great-grandfather had been. As it was, they didn't seem particularly relevant.

"Your pardon, Highness. One might call it habit."

"Oh, nothing needs to be pardoned. It's Princess Aravis who you need to worry about. Anytime we have ambassadors from Calormen, she always shows up late so she needn't hear everything they say."

It was odd to hear a prince speak so easily. Rabadash Tisroc's sons were stuffy at best, cruel and haughty at their worst.

"Is Princess Aravis the lady of the court?"

"Yes, she is. My mother died when I was a child, and when Aravis came to us with Cor, she sort of... took it over."

"And has done an admirable job of it," Cole cut in. "She was only eleven at the time. Eighteen when she married the crown prince."

"Now that we've had such conversations, and completely distracted Emeth Tarkaan from what he came down here to do, we should probably let him get back to that." Prince Corin walked over to where a wash basin stood and splashed the water over his face. He yelped slightly as the water made contact with his skin.

"Merciful Lion, that's cold!" Cole seemed to be trying not to laugh, but failed. "Oh, shut up Cole," Corin muttered. Emeth unsheathed his scimitar and set his stance, preparing to attack the dummy.

With a fury, he viciously began mauling the dummy, letting out all his confusion as pent up energy. When he was satisfied that the dummy was sufficiently dead, he ceased. Cole and Corin were looking at him appraisingly.

"That was impressive, Emeth Tarkaan," Cole commented.

"Emeth would be alright," Emeth informed him awkwardly.

"Emeth it is then. How long have you been practising?"

"Since I was seven, Lord Cole."

"If you're to be Emeth, then I am to be Cole."

"As you wish, Cole."

"How old are you lad?"

"I turned fourteen, last winter."

"And your father let you come alone?" Corin asked.

"Don't forget that you yourself were only twelve when you accompanied their majesties King Edmund and Queen Susan to Calormen, your Highness," Cole reminded the prince.

"Yes, but their majesties are very close friends to my family. Is the ambassador a friend of your fathers?"

"I suppose so. I'm considered a man by Calormene standards, so my father thought I could use experience." Prince Corin seemed to think this was not a very good reason for someone to leave ones father, but didn't comment on it. When other people started arriving, Emeth excused himself from the courts and returned to his room.

Thanks for reading! As always, feel free to review. But if you're just going to chew me out, please don't bother. :)