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It is, perhaps, true that the language in question lent itself more towards directness than poeticism. It was a workaday language, designed for a culture that believed speech and literature to be instruments of communication and clarity, largely excluded from their traditional mediums of artwork. And so it was that names were practical as well, even if they were sometimes more aspirational than descriptive of the natural character of a person. Such was the case of one particular boy, whose name can most closely be translated to Axe.

Axe was, somewhat to his chagrin, the heir to one of the moderately powerful kingdoms in the region. While not the biggest, it nevertheless had a significant level of influence, with much of its territory being hard-won additions acquired by his father: a man who was, in equal parts, a skilled diplomat and a feared and respected warrior. It had a large, fortified capital and three other garrisoned cities, plus a good handful of outlying towns, and peasant villages with ample farmland. All in all, it was prosperous, especially for those in charge. And, as he was constantly being told, one day it would be his to rule.

Which is why, his tutors always proclaimed, that he had to pay more attention. There was much to learn - diplomacy, literature, weaponry, tactics, and a whole host of other things. To Axe, though, all of that was just more and more talking, from people he was tired of listening to, trying to teach him in a way contrary to how he actually learned. It hadn't been any different as a boy, and it wasn't any different now.

Well... perhaps it was a bit different. Back then, he'd been small, small enough to sneak away from his tutors when their backs were turned and creep into the palace's ventilation ducts. From there, he'd usually go down to the basement, and watch from one of the various hiding places he'd figured out, as the workers operated the massive clanking assemblies of gears and pistons that powered everything in the living spaces above. He used to sit there for hours, watching rapturously, until his tutors, assisted by one of the more limber palace guards, tracked him down. After carefully noting the hiding place on a map so that they could check it first when he inevitably snuck away again, they'd attempt to cajole him back to the lesson-room. They couldn't order him, of course - only one man had the authority to do that, and he was usually too busy to bother. Instead, the tutors usually formed a semicircle and blocked his view of the machines, until he finally got bored and gave in. And then he'd return to the room, sit at the desk, and do a more or less decent job of appearing to absorb knowledge and wisdom - or actually doing so, as long as that knowledge was something to do with science, engineering, or mathematics - until he had an opportunity to sneak off again.

Axe had always been a hands-on kind of boy, and was never satisfied with the notion that things should be done for him. As soon as he'd been able to, he'd learned how to brush his own fur, if for no other reason than to escape the stifling grasp of the harem women, who brushed gently enough but always kept brushing even if it hurt, all the while claiming that it was "the only way to get those nasty tangles out." He'd had no trouble on his own once he got the technique right - and once he learned to stop hiding in places that happened to be coated in thick machine oil. Of course, he'd had to capitulate to having one of his father's nicer concubines brush out his tail on a regular basis, as he'd never gotten the hang of catching the bushy thing - it always seemed to twitch away, as if it had a mind of its own, just moments before he was able to grasp it. And so, he put up with that small indignity, and over the years came to almost enjoy it as a relaxing break from his otherwise rigidly scheduled days.

Of course, he was forever tinkering with the appliances in his room, much to everyone's general disapproval - a prince simply didn't deal with such menial things as mechanical devices, for his mind was supposed to be devoted to pursuits far loftier and more important than tinkering. They'd be truly mortified, he was sure, if they ever found his stash - hidden in an uninviting and dusty urn under a pile of scrap papers was a collection of various tools that he'd purloined over the years, and which he used to tinker with whatever he could work on when no one else was around. He'd even managed to collect enough spare bits of metal to build up a miniature clockwork sculpture, which he kept in the back of one of his desk drawers. It was really the only toy that he had - a thing with wheels and gears that could trace crazy loops across any surface. He'd nearly been caught using it twice, though, and so he only brought it out when he was sure to be free from observation. Being caught wouldn't be the end of the world, but they might confiscate the toy as being beneath him, and redouble his lessons to ensure that his free time was taken up by tactics and diplomacy, instead of tinkering.

Now, though, he was sure that if he used it, he'd be met with even more derision. He was bigger, now, having just marked another revolution of the wheel that marked out the days in the great hall, and now everyone was suddenly expecting him to behave much more grown up than he actually felt. On his birthday, a few days back, his father had taken away his last stuffed animal, a bright purple tegbit with dark, smiling eyes. "It's all for the best," he'd said with a wink. "You'll see." And then, on top of that, when he'd gone to the harem to have his tail brushed, the soldier guarding the door had turned him away. "This isn't the place for you anymore," he'd said, so Axe had one of his tutors do the brushing instead (and, of course, he brushed too hard, probably an unstated punishment for his inattentiveness).

So, his tail was more or less a mess, and he'd barely slept in days, having been deprived of his last bit of comfort. And then, the day before, his father had taken him aside.

"The reason that you can't go to my harem anymore," he'd said, "is because it's time for you to have your own."

Axe, of course, didn't understand. He certainly didn't need a whole new roomful of people to brush out his tail. Being the intelligent almost-man that he was, he had at least some inkling that the harem must do something more for his father than sit in a room all day, grooming each other and trying on clothes. But if there was something more, he hadn't seen it, and his instructors hadn't made anything clearer, providing only oblique generalities when he'd inquired some years before. He'd told his father as much, and had received an odd glance in return.

"Surely you've figured it out by now," his father finally said in reply, and when Axe shook his head, he encountered yet another odd look. "Surely your professors must have..." he trailed off, then, his eyes becoming hard. "But you've probably been off in your mad world of clattering machines again, and haven't paid any heed. Just like your uncle... but all he has to do is run an army, and if he can use his clockwork contraptions to make meat of our foes, then his daydreams at least serve a purpose. But you... you will soon be the glue that holds our entire empire together, and like it or not, you must be ready. Do you understand?"

Axe nodded, of course - how could he possibly go against his father? Luckily enough, business soon pulled him away, and Axe took the opportunity to sneak back down to the basement again. Of course, he was far too big for any of his old hiding places, but over the years he'd made friends with the maintenance staff and had free enough rein, at least to watch. Everyone still thought he had to be protected from some danger or other involving the machines, but no one stopped him from watching the work that was done and gleaning every bit of knowledge he could discover. He spent the evening turning over his thoughts to the steady hum and orderly motions of the machines, sneaking back late and raiding the kitchen, firing up the idle burners and fixing himself his usual late meal. The kitchen staff would of course have conniptions if they found out, as it seemed to be a cardinal sin to them to let him serve himself, and so he was careful to clean up meticulously afterwards.

Upon returning to his room, Axe once again resigned himself to suffer through a night of fitfully chasing after sleep, his mind rousing him to wakefulness every time he drifted off. The thin, gilded summer blanket had been put on his bed weeks ago, and the weather was mild enough, but he still felt as though he was burning up. His body felt strange again, tingling and overly sensitive, the sheets rubbing against his fur every time he moved driving him nearly to distraction. He pawed at his arms, at his sides, at his face, all to no avail. His body seemed held captive to some sort of tension, but nothing he did could make the feelings stop. He finally tossed the sheets and blankets onto the floor, and curled up in a ball atop his bare mattress, the skin under his fur feeling almost incandescent. Shivering with frustration, he curled up tighter, his muzzle bumping up against his crotch. It was an absurd position, and he almost laughed, except that the contact felt good, intense in the way that every other part of him felt, but for some reason the contact was intensely pleasant instead of aggravating. He nuzzled closer, and the feeling began to spread - he could feel his muscles relaxing, un-knotting themselves, and the tension receded slightly from the front of his mind. Curled up tight and warm, he finally drifted off into a decent sleep, which quickly became marred by the indescribable, intensely vivid dreams that had recently begun to visit him.

The next day, his regular tutor was replaced by a younger man, one who Axe was sure had been a peripheral part of his father's harem. The material was different as well - the focus was entirely on a sort of diplomacy and protocol. The man referred to it using a classical term, and Axe recalled enough of his odd-language studies to translate it roughly into "the diplomacy of reciprocative kindness." Of course, that told him little, and the material presented hardly cleared things up - a bunch of nonsense about particular types of touching and some drivel about what could be done with various parts of anatomy, and something about how it all "came together." Axe, as usual, managed to drift off, challenging his mind to dredge up the schematic he'd created for the inner working of the lighting switchbox installed by the door. He'd begun to trace various bundles of wire from source to destination some days ago, and he fully intended to commit to memory the plans for all the major wireways in the palace before the next turn of the daywheel.

When the lesson was over, his father came in person to fetch him from the private classroom. "I don't doubt that you've failed to take in any of this lesson as well," he said by way of greeting, looking over at Axe's new teacher, who merely shrugged in response. Axe watched as the two men looked at each other, noting how his father's expression softened in a particular way. Their gaze met for longer than Axe expected, and the other man's ears twitched and dipped, like he had something to say but was for some reason holding it back. Then his father turned away, and his expression returned to its normal sternness as he took Axe by the hand, painlessly but without any doubt that he would maintain his grip, and led him towards the hallway.

"I know it can be frustrating," he said, sounding almost... contrite? "But eventually... eventually you must learn. And the only way that you seem to want to learn is by experiencing things, by grasping at them with your own hands. People have spoon-fed you knowledge for years, and you tolerate it grudgingly. Perhaps, though, in a way you are right - you must learn what comes next through your own experience."

By now, they were in yet another hallway, heading towards a solid wooden door flanked by two armed guards. One of the guards saluted as they approached, while the other guard exerted force on the ponderous portal until it swung open on well-maintained hinges, stepping aside and allowing Axe's father to lead him into an unfamiliar room.

The room was pentagonal in shape, small and unadorned, with crystalline windows spanning the three walls opposite the door. As Axe took it in, he realized that he was actually in a small room suspended above a much larger one, a massive rectangular room dotted with mattresses, piles of pillows, and scattered wardrobes, tables, and benches. The room almost seemed to be laid out in a sort of mazelike pattern, with corridors scattered every which way amongst the furniture, all of them eventually meandering their way to a large set of doors on the far wall. And, in the midst of it all, there must have been a hundred or more boys and girls (or men and women?). They all seemed close to his age, and were wearing the light and decorative clothing of...

...The harem. His father was, of course, true to his word - an entire harem, here to serve him somehow. But, once again, he didn't understand, something his father quickly picked up from his bewildered stare. As his father began to speak, he realized that, one by one, the people in the room below were starting to look up, moving forward to get a closer glimpse of their new master.

"As you must have picked up on by now, our kingdom survives through war... but even more through diplomacy. We interact, we come to terms, we agree and survive side by side. We do so by following the rituals, by being true to our needs, by finding pleasure and comfort in the desires of our peers. No machines can help you with this tradition, with the dance of bodies and minds, of the complex intertwining strands that bind us together, or tear us apart. Diplomacy and tactics both begin in the mind, and we must become close with friend and enemy alike in order to know their ways; and through that knowledge support and protect all that which is our responsibility. I know that you have had precious little in the way of peers, and I regret that, but now you must learn. Perhaps, with a bit of work outside of class, you will begin to understand."

Axe looked down at the sea of faces staring back up at him. Represented were all of the major patterns from the realms that made up his kingdom, as well as a few faces that were considerably more exotic. A few simply stared outright, but most were still milling about, giggling or whispering in each other's ears. They were all talking about him, about the mysterious young man in the high crystal room, talking about what they would do... but what would they do? Suddenly, Axe was almost afraid - he'd never liked dealing with people all that much, and here were dozens of new faces, all of them with some unknown, unspoken demand...

He almost twitched away from nervousness as his father put his hand on his shoulder. "And so it begins..." he said, gesturing with his free hand at the assembled mass below. "Look down, and choose one of them."

"And?" Axe replied, fearing what would come next.

"And," his father replied, "the one that you choose will share your bed with you tonight."

Axe mutely stared down through the window, unsure of what to say, his body awash in conflicting emotions. He tried desperately to think back to the previous tutoring session, trying to drag some sense of meaning from it, but all that came back was a muddle of information that explained almost nothing - a crazy melange of disconnected gestures and confusing meanings. Perhaps he had tuned out even more than usual, because it had all seemed so alien - and unlike many of the other subjects, which he was smart enough to prevail in despite generally shunning his tutors, something about this just didn't seem to click with his brain at all. If it was as simple as just sleeping next to someone, he supposed it wouldn't be all that bad, but he was certain that something different was meant by it - it was just that, for the life of him, he couldn't seem to put all the pieces together. And those missing pieces, those unspoken unknowns, that everyone else seemed to understand but him...

He looked down again, at the sea of faces looking back up at him, and was suddenly more terrified than he had ever felt in his life.

"I..." he stammered, turning back to look at his father, who once again had that strange look on his face - stern, but slightly contorted with puzzlement. He couldn't talk back, not to him, but he had to say something.

"I... I'm scared." Blunt, but the truth. In response, his father sighed, looking more puzzled than ever.

"Look... I know that I don't understand quite how you work, even now. I know that you don't see people your age all that much, but if you are to one day take my place, this is something you will need to know, perhaps more than anything. Tactics and weapons can only do so much."

He paused, his eyes momentarily lost in though, and then he turned back, his face looking calmer, and perhaps a bit resigned. "I know it's... unorthodox, but if I force you into this, it will probably turn out for the worse - this is something you must be able to do willingly and openly if you are to succeed in diplomacy. So... I'll give you a deal. Do this for me, as best as you can, and try to put some heed into your lessons if you're able. Pick someone, and sleep with them... and if you can do it, I'll get you a tutor to teach you about mechanics, any way you like. Deal?"

Axe stared back, momentarily in disbelief. The offer seemed almost too good to be true - and for his father, his stern, disciplined father, to be willing to make such a deal spoke to how important this strange situation must be. But even with that, he still didn't really know what to do. All those people, looking at him, expecting... something... On the other hand, he was being offered something so important that it was nearly impossible to turn down.

"So... what do I have to do?" he said, fighting down his fear. Like it or not, for this, he'd try his best.

"Just what I said. Look down, and pick one to spend the night with you."

Picking one, though, was enough of a trial in and of itself. How could he choose, if he didn't even really know what to look for? If they had been machines, it would have been one thing, but people... But why not look at it that way? He was after a person who would best fit with this requirement. That meant, simply enough, someone he could at least sleep next to.

And so he though back, back to when he had been half the height that he was now. Back then, he'd occasionally slept in his older sibling's beds, before he'd gotten bigger and they'd left to go into training in the field, warriors and generals all. They'd usually just lay there next to him, disciplined and unmoving even in sleep. Axe had heard on occasion that he had sisters as well, but they were sequestered away for reasons that were never explained, and so he had never met them. That being said though, if the women here were anything like those in his father's harem, he'd get no sleep with their incessant banter and their tendency to fawn over him. So, then, better to choose a boy. He almost wondered whether his siblings had gone through similar things, but it had been many years ago since the boys had left for war, and from the little he'd heard the girls had left to somehow tie together a few of the neighboring states, and so it was left to him alone to face this choice.

He panned across the different faces, trying to figure out who would work best. Someone unassuming, someone quiet, someone who wouldn't make a fuss over him like everyone else seemed to want to. But how could he tell? The answer, of course, was easy enough - pick one of the boys who wasn't starting raptly up at him as though he were a deity.

He kept looking, wondering if he'd ever figure out who to choose. And then, all of a sudden, a single face stood out from the crowd.

Unlike most of the others, who were gathered into small groups, the boy was sitting by himself on a small bench towards the back of the room. It was hard to tell from his posture, but he seemed to be about Axe's size, although perhaps a bit thinner - it was hard to tell, because he looked a bit more exotic than most of the people he was used to, and seemed to have very thick, lustrous fur that softened his outline. Like most everyone else in the room below, he was dressed in a gold-stitched white tunic and pants, with various colorful embroidered decorations, as those in his father's harem had been. The clothing aside, though, the boy looked quite unique, his fur a mix of grey and white intertwined together in a complex, curving pattern. Unlike the rest, though, his ears, topped with a tuft of darker grey, pointed straight up on his head, instead of dipping and weaving in unconscious deference like all of the others. And his eyes stared straight back, not canted in awe or reverence, but looking back directly, betraying nothing but a sense of determination, the grey orbs shining like the polished steel of an immaculate machine.

"That one," he said without hesitation, pointing directly at the boy. One of the guards pulled a writing tablet from a pocket on his armor and jotted something down, as his father nodded - in approval, and, perhaps relief.

"Very well," he finally said, turning back to the entryway. "You can stay here and observe for a while longer, if you like, and you can come back as often as you want to find someone to be with you. It may seem to be a momentous thing now, but I hope you will become used to it in time." He paused, clearing his throat as he took a sidelong glance down at the harem assembled below. "I need to get back to my work, though. I think you've had enough excitement for today, so you're excused from the rest of your tutoring. Be back in your room by dinnertime, though - I'll arrange to have some food sent up, along with your new... friend."

With that, he walked back down the hallway, followed by one of the guards - the other, with the notepad, stayed by the door. "Good choice, I think," he offered.

"You know him?" Axe asked, almost surprised. Part of him wanted to get up immediately and head down to the basement to watch his beloved machines at work, but part of him was still curious.

"Not all that well, but yeah, I know all of them. That's why I'm here - to make sure you're okay, and to write down whoever you pick out, so they can be prepared by the time they come up to see you."

"What... um, what's his..."

"Name?" The guard twitched his ears down and away for just a moment, the closest he'd ever seen one of the usually mute-faced guards come to expressing amusement. "Dunno why, but this one's named... Dagger."

"Dagger..." Axe looked down again, but the boy had melted away somewhere into the crowd.