《The Eternals》


 Prologue

    The trees had long dried. The flowers before the trees. And the last healthy stalk of wheat was months ago. Now even the most determined of grasses shared the fate.


    Brew cupped the wilted grass. He remembered hating the thing''s resilient, always burgeoning where it shouldn''t and always stealing growth from wheat. Now he wished for its survival. Even seeing a plain blanketed in grasses would throb his heart into glee. But the soil was dark and so were the grasses. The land was dead.


    Around them refugees walked with bowed heads broken faces. Their legs sagged and dragged. Children cried without tears as even water was in short supply. Most of them would die if not all.


    "What now?" Blink asked, a question he hoped of avoiding. What now.As if he had all the answers.


    "What indeed. We die I guess." Brew patted his hands. "But later. Dying now would be too lenient, too easy for our sins. The burden, the guilt, we shall be haunted until the cold touch of the grave."


    "This isn''t our fault. Not fully anyway. This-"If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "Not our fault? Words to escape guilt. Do not run from it Blink. Let it embrace you. Devour you. Our failure caused this. Do you understand? We were tasked, chosen. And yet we idled until it was too late."


    "I know!" Blink gripped his arm tight. It only eased when Blink began to sob. "I know Brew. I know." His head leaned forward on Brew''s shoulder. "We must suffer, we must rue. But it will happen again. Everything. And failure by then would be the end. So please don''t abandon us. I beg of you. Do not abandon us."


    Brew traced the long line of refugees. The weak shuffled out of the line, falling dead and fogotten. At the rear, the city still burned with dark smoke still rising and coiling.


    "I am tired. I am broken."


    "Aren''t we all?" Blink asked. "One last time. Lead us one last time."


    His shoulder sagged as was his face. He nodded.As if I could give up anyway.


    "East. We will push east across the sea and find new lands to settle. The journey would be terrible. Building anew would be more so."


    "But we must keep going."


    "Yes. And I hope we''ll get it right this time. No more fighting. No more trifle wars. We will guard the Stone of Mirth united."


    He looked to the east, to the direction of the unknown. Beyond the rotting land was dream behind a curtain of struggles.


    Can we stop it this time? Are we going to learn from our mistakes? Is there even a stone left?


    Questions flooded and questions were left unanswered. Brew found that answers can only be closer after taking the first step.And so he did.

 Leo I

    Sometimes I wonder if all the mysteries of this world exist only to satiate our hunger for them. We cravefor knowledge, for every sinew of it, for every thread. This is our curse, long has been and long will be. But I wonder, as I ink this page with words, what would happen if we run out of mysteries to seek?The answer, to my surprise, is simple- we make new mysteries as we are mysteries ourselves.


    <hr>


    1500 years later, Twentieth year of the Cull. Holm, Capital City of the United Kingdoms of Vanadis and Castonia


    Sunlight peeped through gaps in the curtain, beams striking the map atop the table. Timothy sat beside, cross-legged as respite to his aching knees.


    He reached toward the map, feeling the roughness. Unlike others this was carved in the wooden table instead of painted on some parchment. The craggy portion the size of a man''s torso was supposed to represent the Ninev mountains. Red dye was painted on this portion as well as most of the north.


    Red for blood. Color of war. Shade of the enemies.


    A variety of colors were used to represent the different regions of the human holdings. Castonia, his kingdom, and Vanadis, his wife''s, shared the golden hue. Only a line separated the two as border and that border would soon disappear once their son ascends to both the thrones.


    The door creaked, gentle as a mother''s warmth. Timothy smiled. He only knew one person to open a door that way.


    Lucia had a yellow dress for today. Though it looked more comfortable than the others, the tight waist seemed torturous. She took the crown off her head and plucked some pin. Her golden hair fell to its full length, tumbling down to her middle back.


    "What?" She asked, tender smile forming on her lips.


    "Have I told you that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever set my eyes upon?"


    "Everyday. Sometimes a few times a day. Yesterday it was thrice."


    She went to him and cupped his face. Leaning closer, her lips grazed his. It didn''t develop into a kiss as Lucia pulled her head back.


    "You are cruel." Timothy said.


    Lucia giggled. "You did the same to me three days ago."


    He lunged toward her. It didn''t take long before she was in his arms, cradled like a babe. The Queen of Vanadis- the one gifted with a mind so sharp it ripped their enemies in the past- was now in his arms, looking at him with shy eyes and red cheeks.


    Lucia coiled her arm around his neck. She kissed him, void of her teases now. Her warm breaths tickled him. Her perfume wafted its pleasant scent- chamomile, lemon and something sweet. The kiss grew deeper until Timothy''s legs trembled. Numbness occupied his lower leg. Lucia was able to slid off him before they both fell. He staggered back to his seat, breaths heavy and quick .


    "We are not as young as we used to be. We are older now than yesterday and tomorrow we would be older still." Lucia pulled his right leg and massaged his knee. "It''s swollen again."


    "It''s just a passing weakness. I can still stop cavalry charge."


    "Accept it Tim. We are old."


    There was of course truth to that. They had burnt half their lives already. The change happened gradually. Strength was leaving him like money from a squanderous noble.


    He studied Lucia. She was experiencing the sad changes too. Although she was still the same beauty he married, youth had fled from her already. Her golden hair had strands of white. Her skin didn''t sag yet though it was inevitable. Those eyes that once shone in a radiant blue had now dulled under her pallid eyelids.


    Nevertheless she was still the same Lucia. Gone was her youth but her being didn''t change. And time only served to fuel Timothy''s affection.


    "So," Lucia said, looking at the map. "What do we have here? Problems?"


    "Oh with that there is no shortage. A magical race means to wipe us all out. The human nations we are forging into one are bickering with the smallest of issues."


    "We have been battling these problems for the past two decades that the word ''problem'' might not be accurate now. The Cull and the bickering kingdoms are normalcy. But you still looked troubled earlier."


    "The Rooster." Timothy pointed at a wooden piece representing the Rooster Legion. "Once they were the King''s Legion, my own legion. Fiercest, most loyal, unbreakable. I could remember at least nine songs telling of their exploits and that''s just from the popular bards. But that was all twenty years ago. Soldiers retire and the men of the Rooster get replaced by new ones. Of the original five thousand, how many do you think are of the original Rooster Legion?"


    "A hundred and twenty-six."


    "Yes, of course you knew. One hundred twenty-six. Mostly officers. And yet the songs still continue. The bards still praise the Rooster with notes and melodies. What if the Rooster fails? What if they rout? The Rooster''s reputation has soared too high. Failure in meeting expectations will shatter the morale of our men."


    "I can''t see any options left for us but to recall the Rooster into a less perilous position. Meanwhile we can spread other news to down the reputation of the Rooster."


    "You may be right. And I think my emotions also play a part in this. The Rooster Legion has been the center of my favor for a long time." Timothy retracted his leg and gripped Lucia''s hand. "How about you? I would know it when something bothers your thoughts."


    "What are you talking about? I was radiant." She grinned but snuffed it into a bitter smile. "I can''t hide anything from you, can I? Well it''s nothing really."


    "Leo. He''s at it again." Timothy nodded. He eased his back into the backrest. A warm surge of sigh escaped from his mouth. "When will he learn?"


    "Our son has a lot going on in his life right now. We must be patient. He will mature. Soon. Yes, soon."


    "My patience has long been taxed."


    "And I say you let it be taxed some more."


    Timothy wrapped his arm around Lucia''s waist. She leaned on his chest as both of them stared at the window.


    "Leo" Timothy said again, now shaking his head. He looked at Lucia. "Omniscient. What is he doing now anyway?"


    ***


    The die flew from the Leo''s hand. It rolled in the air- tumbling, furling- until it hit the board. It rolled some more as if teasing. Soon it eased, the six-dot side facing upward.


    Leo slammed his fist on the table. "Omniscient bless me boys! Hah! Ain''t that a true luck?"


    The onlookers were mostly rowdy to his win. They were shouting garbles. The tavern was filled with their glee. And why wouldn''t they glee? He promised to wine their bellies if he wins.


    And he did, much to the annoyance of his opponent. The merchant pointed to him, ringed finger coiling and stiff.


    "You cheated! Aye you did. I swear you have some hidden tricks under that long robe of yours."


    Leo spread his arms. He turned to his uncle who wore the same outfit- long sleeved robes and some cloth to cover their faces.


    "His accusation is deep, uncle. As deep as his pockets earlier."


    "But now his pockets have gone shallow." His uncle said.


    Leo smiled, directing to the merchant. "As shallow as his temper. Omniscient. Look it him. We have good days and bad ones Mister. Today''s not yours." He pointed to the bartender. "A bottle for each person! Mead, wine, beer, ale, even fermented milk. Let if flow!"


    The drunkards cheered a deafening one. Even the bards were playing lively music now. The song was Rooster''s Crow, if he wasn''t mistaken.


    Leo stepped to the table and cupped the coins. The merchant was fuming.


    "I didn''t cheat." He sighed. "The trick is to balance the die and practice your throw. Best of luck Mister."


    The merchant grabbed his wrist. The guards stepped to flank him. All two were armored with mails. They towered a head taller and were all ugly and rude.


    "You cheated." The merchant said, hooked nose wrinkling.


    "I didn''t cheat. I swear. And this is not a good idea." The rowdy yells and the melodies of the bards froze as everyone looked at them. Leo eyed the guards and then the merchant. His eyes were focused, cold as was his voice. "Trust me, Mister. You pluck one hair of mine and you are dead. No. Not just dead. Scorned. These good lads of yours will suffer a fate several times more heinous than death. If you only know who I am you would be begging right now. Unhand me. This is a command."


    "A command?" The merchant chucked. "I can have your pretty neck broken right now. Do you know who I am boy?" He leaned closer, meeting eyes with Leo. Those emerald eyes were bathed in fury. "Do you?"


    "You are a merchant with a shallow temper and an even shallower mind. That''s all you are. That''s all you''ll ever be. You have my permission to take this cloth off my face. This is my mercy to you fool- the knowledge of the pit you are barreling into."


    For a moment Leo was worried that his warning wasn''t enough. His statement wasn''t exaggerated. The merchant would be executed and all of his possessions would be confiscated if this turns sour.


    Think. You fool. Think. Use your brain and save yourself. Your senseless death is undesired.


    The merchant pinched the cloth around his mouth and yanked it away. Leo''s face was revealed under the dim light of the lamps.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The shock came through a grunt. The merchant went back to his seat, quivering eyes focused in Leo. His mouth was open, occasional gulps made it look painful.


    The guards also stepped away as if Leo was death himself. And he was, in a way. One word from him could mean the difference between life or death.


    "I didn''t know." The merchant''s voice was squeaky, shaking and with stutters. "Mercy, Your Highness. Mercy. My anger was greased with wine. I... I don''t want to die."


    His uncle sat on the table, shaking the pile of coins. He removed his disguise. Azure eyes, flaxen hair trimmed and combed- Arthur Vanadis'' looks didn''t falter to age. Although one of his eyes was blind, it didn''t look apparent.


    "I think you should leave now. Take your mutts with you." Uncle Arthur looked at him. "You''ll let this pass right?"


    Leo cupped his wrist. It ached- just a little- but it ached. He smiled. "He did threaten to have my neck broken but I doubt this Mister has it in him to break a prince''s neck. Look at him. He is just too pleasant of a man."


    "Of course Your Highness! I was merely-"


    "But" Leo raised his finger. "A threat is a threat. Remind me again uncle, what is the punishment for threatening a royal?"


    "Death" His uncle said.


    "I see. Death. A sword to the heart or perhaps decapitation." He focused on the merchant. "But my mother taught me mercy. My father taught me grace. Break my pretty little neck, you said. I will just think of it as a strange way of you complimenting my neck. You three can go now."


    The merchant and his guards scrambled outside. Leo cupped his winnings, six gold coins and three dozen silvers. He turned to the other people in the tavern.


    "Now who wants to get drunk?!"


    He was met with a tavern stripped of sound. Everyone was seated with stiff backs and drooped heads now.


    "You honor my establishment, Your Highness" Said a perfumed man in a clean coat. He hurtled to Leo and knelt. "Thank you for gracing us with your presence."


    Now, Leo thought with a deep sigh, this is why I hate revealing my face. Necks would bow. Knees would bend. Words would straighten. And fun would end.


    Leo rose. He flicked three gold coins to the owner. "I promised to flood these lads with drinks tonight. I''ll leave them to you. Come, Uncle. Let''s go back."


    He grabbed his coat. A few steps brought him outside. The sun was burning its last lights. The streetlamps were now melting their tallow, glowing dull.


    The salty air of Holm pinched his nose. With his uncle beside, Leo walked the wide streets, hands sheathed in the pockets of his coat. Every person they passed would provide a bow, some even threw coins at their feet.


    "You really scared that merchant silly. I noticed drops of liquid dripping down his trousers. I''m not saying it was pee. But, yes, it was probably pee." His uncle said, chuckling and joining his strides. "You scared him the bones."


    "He wasn''t scared of me, Uncle. He was scared of my father and my mother." He closed his mouth though his disappointment prompted him to say more. "You know what my greatest achievement is? Being born as their son. That''s it. Being born."


    "Wrong! You are a god with the dice and your card tricks are superb. I bet you can also outdrink most of the drunkards in Holm."


    Leo chuckled though he didn''t want to. His uncle''s praises just sounded too ridiculous. He slowed his walk, dimming sunlight before him. "When my father was my age, he defended Castonia from two invasions, won a civil war, toppled rebellions and shattered a coalition. He decimated armies. The strategies he used are being studied by every historian. My mother was helping my father back then. They say a letter from her, a single pigeon-bound letter, could topple kingdoms. They are also the Eternal Pair, saviors of mankind, defenders against the Ninevans. Now, Uncle, how do my dice-throwing and mead-drinking skills compare?"


    "You are envious of them?"


    "Yes, envy. There''s that." He nodded. "But there is something more. Shame, a pit in my stomach every time I hear songs about them. Being too small that their shadows blotted my sun. It is shameful being the one to continue their legacy."


    "I am not strange to the feeling. I was the heir before your grandfather deemed your mother as a better ruler. At first I was burning of course. I mean wouldn''t you get angry if your younger sister took the crown instead of you? You know what I did?"


    "You threw it all out. I know."


    "Exactly!" His uncle raised a fist. "I thought, so what if I won''t be King? Let them do all the work while I pleasure myself to an early grave. How did you know?"


    Leo shook his head. "Books are being written about you. Philosophers are even arguing about your life''s philosophy. Simple, hedonistic, uncaring- I heard one long-bearded man preach in an alley. Arthur Vanadis'' life is a perfect example on how we should all live!" Leo rolled his eyes. "So you see Uncle, even your life gets more attention than mine. When they see me, they see my father. They look for any semblance of military genius. When they talk about me, they force connections with my mother''s talents. I chat with a servant and they call it scheming. I ride a horse and they all drop their jaws, praising my penchant for warfare. I wonder if I take a dump in public, would they clap their hands and call it psychological tactics against our enemies?"


    "Ain''t that a good thing? Taking a dump and people thinking of it as an act of genius?" His uncle beamed and coiled an arm around his neck. "I understand. So good luck with your journey tomorrow. I will miss our strolling sessions. And don''t forget to sing praises to the beauties in Dandaria about your uncle. Tell them that Arthur Vanadis is in Holm and he is available!"


    Leo patted his uncle''s back and their walk staggered. "Yes, I will tell them a tale about a bachelor prince who is also a war hero. Tell mother to prepare the harbor of Holm because maidens will come in droves. Every single of one them would be seeking Arthur Vanadis" Leo raised his finger. "The Bachelor Prince!"


    Like most of their conversations, this one ended with laughter. He would really miss his uncle. In fact there were many people in the city he would long for. But his mind was set. Tomorrow, he would board a ship heading to Dandaria. Perhaps he could make a name for himself there, one that was not connected to his parents'' achievements.


    The street broke into a four-way intersection ahead. A statue served as a roundabout. Gardenias were planted around it, looking fresh and serene. The sweet smell of the flowers defeated the salty air of Holm.


    Leo halted, staring at the statue. It was the size of a house and coated in gold. It was his grandfather, the father of his father whom he was named after- Leopold Castonia. The statue depicted Leopold Castonia raising his sword in the air. His features were rough- strong chin, stern eyes, muscular body.


    "The Savior of Holm." Leo said. "What do you think, Uncle? My grandfather led the citizens into the defense of this city. He died a hero. Our flagship and I are even named after him. Do you think I would at least attain that level of fame by myself?"


    "Your grandfather also broke promises left and right, lied in the face of everyone, tortured, bribed...Omniscient. I was afraid of him. He is a broken man with a broken personality. And those grand chins and sinewy features? He looked more like one of those villains in plays who would exclaim, ''Oh hero, you have bested me! But this is not over. I will return for revenge!''. But behind his villainous face and villainous attitude, he was a good man I believe. He just did what he thought was right and now everyone has images of him in their houses. I''m not going to lie Leo, I don''t know if your adventures in Dandaria would bring you fame. I don''t even know if you''ll be coming back alive. I mean Dandaria is a cruel place. But if you are certain about running away, then I will support you with my silence."


    "Well first of all, I am not running away. I just kept it a secret to my parents because they wouldn''t permit me."


    "That is running away."


    "But I will come back. With stories to fill our drinking nights, I will come back. Holm had long shackled me. This life, although the dream of many, is not my passion. I need to see what''s out there. I don''t want mere stories told through wine-dipped mouths and old papers. I want to witness."


    His uncle nodded and embraced him. "May the Omniscient guide your way. Oh no. I think I''m tearing up."


    "You know what''s going to ebb the sadness."


    "Mead?"


    Leo smiled. "Mead"


    ***


    The night was old and the morning was near. Leo shuffled through his pack. One was enough to contain all the things he needed. Coupled with a longsword for protection, he was set for his journey.


    He entered through the door that connected his room to his brother''s. Theodore was snoring, legs and arms spread wide on his bed. Leo knelt on the bedside, staring at his brother. At fifteen, Theo inherited the looks of their mother- blue eyes and golden hair of a Vanadis though the striking chin was their father''s.


    "Until our paths cross again." Leo whispered. He had the urge to farewell with an embrace but stopped. The path he would take would require him to stifle his emotions. This would be a good start.


    He stood and walked to the window, severing his look to his brother only when he reached it. This window had become familiar to him. The hinges were loose and one pluck would disconnect it. His tinkering only lasted for a while until the pane was free. Cold wind of dawn met his face. He sighed.


    Leo slid through the window. The path was perilous. One slip would either cripple or kill him. He went forward anyway, stepping lithely on the gutters and anything he could step into. He threw his pack and his sword after reaching the second story. With a jump, he landed on the soft grass.


    The guards were of course keen. But the patrols were scant tonight. He reached the eastern palace wall where a small hole allowed him to fit. It was snug and he crawled but he was free after reaching the other side.


    No, he smiled bitterly. He wasn''t free. His father was sitting on some barrel while his mother was standing before him. There were no guards though he was certain that at least a dozen were watching from afar.


    "You knew" Leo nodded, slinging his pack behind. He looked back on the hole. "A shame. This hole is the only secret I could keep."


    "You think a hole in the wall of the palace would elude me?" His mother said, smiling. She stepped forward and cupped his face. "And do you think all your late night activities went unnoticed? There are countless people both humans and Ninevans who wanted us dead. If they can''t get through our security, do you think you could sneak out?"


    Leo''s head lolled. "I''m sorry. I am the heir, I know. The future king of both Castonia and Vanadis and possibly of all the humans. But all of it is just too suffocating. Too heavy of a burden. I''m not running away. I just want to go out there and be worthy."


    "And if you get killed?"


    "There''s always Theo to replace me. He is proper, never been in a brawl, never drinks, although his appetite for unwanted jests is rather sour, I think he would be a good monarch."


    "I''m not talking about the line of succession. You are our son, our firstborn."


    His father slid off the barrel and went to them. He grabbed the sword from Leo''s hand and pulled the blade a little.


    "Steel. Good kind." His father looked at him. Those dark eyes that mirrored Leo''s were too entrancing to ignore. His father handed the sword back to him. "You know how to use it?"


    "I think so. Abraham trained me with it."


    "That''s not what I''m asking. A sword is more than just a weapon. It a decision, a commitment. Once you''ve drawn the blade from its sheath, you are committed to either kill or defend." His father''s warm hands gripped his shoulder. "Do not draw it unless you are certain. Sometimes words cut deeper than swords. Use your mind out there."


    "You mean..."


    "Yes. Dandaria right? A shattered empire. It will bring you difficulties but you are our son. And if venturing there will give you contentment, then you should go."


    "Thank you" He wrapped both of them in a long embrace. "I''ll be back in a year."


    "Take your time" His mother said. "And bring this with you."


    She handed him a sheaf of paper bound by leather. The cover was void of a title.


    "This is copy of a journal of a Ninevan. Ashkara, they call him. We have been trying our luck in translating this but for two decades we haven''t cracked the language. Maybe in Dandaria you can find a way to translate it." His mother said.


    Leo nodded. He had seen them stare at copies of this though he did not pry. So it was a journal of one of our enemies, he thought.


    "You have coins to fund your journey?" His father didn''t wait for a response and dropped a small pouch on his pack. "Go now. The galley heading to Dandaria is anchored in the thirtieth dock."


    He wanted to thank them, to utter something in gratitude. Or just say something, even irrelevant. But Leo could only nod and walk away. He looked back once. They were looking at him as if begging for him to stay. He just went on his way.


    The dock was bustling despite the early sun. Topless men heaving barrels and boxes went past him as if unaware of his presence. He went to the galley on dock thirty, the one with a large hull and the flag of the Union flown on top. The wooden stairs wet with seawater was open for boarding. The captain was a bald man dressed in fine naval uniform. He caned as he walked to Leo, face ragged as a summer-stricken land.


    "The Swordfish?" Leo asked.


    "Aye. Headed to the beautiful wasteland of Dandaria." He gestured toward the plank. "You certain about this, Highness?"


    Leo studied the galley. Though a property of the United Kingdoms of Castonia and Vanadis, it voyaged too far south that it only docks here once a year. But south was an unexplored land. His blood boiled in anticipation.


    "No" He said. "But I want this."


    The bald captain beamed. "Then step up the hull."


    Leo stepped, carefully but with impatience. He stopped after reaching the deck and looked to the horizon. The morning sun shone, golden tendrils of light bathing the world. He smiled. It was a new day.

 Fredrich I

    ''Who are we really but mere fragments forged in the shade? The people now hail us as Gods. Because we are unique, they say. Because we are special. Today I pricked my finger. It bled the same red thick liquid as everyone else''s. I say I am no God. I am a fragment. A lie.''


    <hr>


    The day was gloomy as was his fate.


    The clouds above were fleeting as if the things cannot make up their minds. Sunshine peeped where they could peep and the cold winter wind was biting to the skin.


    Fredrich slugged. His thinned boots scraped against the cobbled road. His rucksack burdened behind. His shield lugged him to the side. He would have been sweating if not for the sudden gusts of coldness. And even those were uncomfortable.


    He walked anyway. All of them did. Ten columns and only the Omniscient knows how many ranks. They were marching if this could be called a march. To Fredrich it was a procession of languid men, him included.


    Another gust blew. It bit. The line swayed like a long stick bent. The officers on horseback pulled reins to brace. It was over not long after but Fredrich was already shivering under his armor.


    It could be worse, he took refuge in that thought. Old men told of stories of how solid water would fall from the sky in the past during winter and wouldn''t abate until spring.


    "It is true child." That skinny drunken merchant told him then. He was seven that time and a face full of curiosity. "We call it snow. But the winter of Eighty started it all. It didn''t snow that year and still hasn''t until now. Oh how I wish to see it again."


    Snow. As if the world needs more gloom. As if cold water is a welcomed gift. That merchant was a fool for wishing snow. Cold gusts of wind was uncomfortable enough.


    The march came to a sudden halt when the quartermaster ordered a rest. The recruits dropped their rucksacks and shields as if one more breath holding the things would kill.


    Fredrich knew better than to add to the wear of his belongings. He knelt, one knee on the cobbles and gently laid his shield to the side. He also did the same to his rucksack but with more care.


    He sat cross-legged, head bent and hands clasped together. As always nobody talked to him as if he was a disease. And in a way he probably was. His gloom was contagious, they all say. He didn''t care. They were all having idle talks anyway. Gossips bore him. Small talks even more so. A man, especially one heading into danger such as them, should spend time only to better himself.


    Fredrich reached into his rucksack and took a book. The leather cover had creases now as opposed to its splendid appearance when he first bought it.


    He flipped, balmy smell wafting on his nose. The pages were still new- clean even- despite the cheap price. It was the book written by King Timothy himself about the wars of the Union. It was history though Fredrich suspected that the accounts were adjusted to make the actions of the Union more heroic.


    Of course it is. A man takes what he could. Even history itself.


    He flipped until he found a leaf, the bookmark he left yesterday. The page detailed how King Timothy defeated a combined force of Inkish and Hadeans in the Battle of Velin Plains.


    They hit our center without mercy, without cease. They rushed like madmen bearing swords, axes and spears. Third Century of the Rooster Legion was pinned. Fourth Century had lost its Centurion. Several more were trapped, pinned and attacked on all sides but even then the Rooster fought on. I was betting on that. The Rooster held the enemies at bay like an unbreakable galley amidst a storm. Fifteen thousand men attacked and fifteen thousand men were repelled. Steelsword and Dawn Legions flanked the enemies and that began a rout. And yet the Rooster didn''t give chase. They remained, awaiting my next order Seeing them with such a discipline mien, my heart brimmed with pride. The Rooster is my personal legion.


    The Rooster again. Fredrich''s youth was filled with stories and songs and plays about the Rooster Legion. People say that the Rooster only crows loyalty for the King. And that thinking bugged him.


    Because loyalty is a lie.


    Loyalty was a rainbow- pretty and nice but doesn''t exist. The stories and poems and songs talk about it but the truth was that every person only cares about his own self. That was the way things are.


    Fredrich shut the book when the call to resume was blare through a shrill horn. He returned to his line and the sluggish march winded through the road.


    The sky was darker now and Fredrich expected a rain. It did not come as if the Omniscient was mocking them.


    Several thousand steps into the march and they passed the city of Corknip. Once nearly a hundred thousand people dwelled in the city. Now only silence lived in the City of Golden Wine. Corknip was crumbling. Cracks as large as man''s arm lined the lofty walls. Vegetation had eaten the dried moat. The towers had holes in their roofs and the iron gate was rusty.


    "Such a waste right?" He heard someone say.


    "Aye. My mum was from a village not far from here. She was there when the beasts and those damn Ninevans invaded Hadea. The shadow beasts were already prowling and killing people by the thousands. They were headed to Corknip when the forces led by King Timothy and Queen Lucia arrived and pushed them back." said a fat recruit with the features of a Hadean.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    "But at a great cost." The other recruit said. This one was a Vanadian.


    "Great cost indeed but they say it was glorious. Castonia, Vanadis, Tulosa, Wismar, Canton, Inkit, Hadea and Borondi stood together in a mass charge against the beasts. My mum witnessed it. She said it was the greatest thing she saw. King Timothy led the front and turned into a giant lion."


    "Ain''t that a tale? But I doubt it. Why would he lead at the front?"


    "But it''s true. Bah, doubt my tale if you want. My mum saw what she saw." The Hadean made the annoying mistake of looking at Fredrich. "What about you mate? Any stories you''ve heard you willing to share?"


    "Ah don''t bother. He ain''t talking. Some say he''s mute." said the Vanadian.


    "Mute? Is that true mate? Must be a burden then."


    "A burden indeed. Poor lad. And he has the gloom too."


    Fredrich was at the edge of his temper. He was fuming. Why? Why include me in your stupid talks?


    "Listen here you tattlers." Fredrich''s stare could burn. "First of all, that battle had a name. Battle of Corknip. And yes it happened in this very land we are stepping on. And you''re wrong. It''s only Castonia, Vanadis, Wismar, Inkit and Canton who were there. Tulosa and Borondi were too far away. It also wasn''t a single charge but a series of complex maneuvers. A battle there. A battle here. And King Timothy never led a charge. It would be stupid. He is a King. A King. Why in the Omniscient would he put himself in the front lines against an enemy they know little about? Huh? One more thing. I think you already know by now but I am not a mute."


    The silence extended wide. Everyone within five ranks from him craned their heads.


    The Hadean stared at him. Those thick lips spread as he laughed. It was wheezy and annoying and Fredrich wanted to cover his ears. His annoyance again soared when the Hadean and the Vanadian both patted his arm.


    "Good lord! I thought you were mute mate. Never once talked since your group joined ours in Heraldshome." The Hadean one was a jolly man. He wore a jolly grin and his continuous pat on Fredrich''s shoulder was also jolly.


    The others left him alone. But these two were now focused on him.


    "Name''s Gren" Said the Vanadian. No. No, I don''t need to know your name. "And yours?"


    And you also don''t need to know mine.


    "Ah he''s a shy one. Don''t push him. I am Trest by the way. " The Hadean patted Fredrich''s back again. He stabbed his thumb toward the Vanadian. "Don''t mind Gren too much. His questions are oppressing sometimes. He''s a bit weird."


    And you''re not?


    "Oi! Heard that. I''m not weird. I am just born with a deeper curiosity that most people."


    "See? Weird."


    It didn''t end. Their talks and questions and buggering didn''t end for what seemed to be a lifetime. The whole morning they talked and even included him in the despicable tattles and small talks. Never had marching been too taxing for Fredrich.


    They only stopped when the Terpet Wall was in sight. Fredrich''s burnt temper, his annoyance, was lost upon seeing such a sight. The wall extended from one horizon to another, probably seven persons high and made of stone. Forts lined every league, towers every thousand paces.


    "Marvelous" Trest again patted his back, eyes staring at the wall.


    "How many stones do you think they''ve used for this?" Gren asked.


    "Shut it. Omniscient. Stop asking for once." Trest eyed him. "You are Fredrich right? We already know your name Fred. We apologize for the crude introduction earlier. Gren and I have actually been planning in conversing with you. You just looked too gloomy and lonely and hostile. We also apologize if our way of squishing talks from you seemed too forceful. But you better associate with others Fred. A human isn''t made to be alone."


    "I am fine with being alone. And now that we are here, it is time to part. You two shouldn''t bother me again."


    They were sorted before given entry to the forts. To Fredrich''s surprise, he was assigned to the Rooster legion. Third cohort, according to his letter of recommendation. Truth be told he didn''t care as to where he would be assigned. But the thought of belonging to the King''s Legion was too gleeful to ignore. Perhaps if he could make a name for himself here, in the most prestigious legion, he could go home one day and finally face that man.


    Surprisingly, or rather unsurprisingly, Gren and Trest were also in the Rooster. An officer led them and about a few dozen others to another march heading east. He tried to ignore the two buggering creatures and just swayed his focus elsewhere.


    "Forty-six forts are sprawled along the Terpet Line." The Officer said, not turning a head though his voice was loud enough. "You are lucky ones. Rooster eh? King''s Legion. Good for you. Just live through the remaining of your service years and you''ll be rewarded with fame."


    "Yes" Without turning he knew that growly voice was Trest''s. "If we live."


    "Forgive his pessimist talk sir" That was Gren. "But we are curious here what really happens around here. Rumors are concerning sometimes. Enlightenment would be a gift."


    "They are asking if it''s true that shadow beasts are attacking everyday and the struggle has been getting bloodier lately." Fredrich said, though he was surprise himself by the loosened tongue. Perhaps it was a petty retaliation for the Trest and Gren''s transgressions earlier.


    "No" Was the officer''s immediate response. "As a matter of fact the last assault was months ago. We don''t know what''s happening in the enemy''s side. Only the Eternal Pair knows. So breathe lightly lads. And you''ll be with the Rooster anyway."


    The march halted after reaching a certain fort. The sky was still shrouded in thick clouds though the orange streaks indicated afternoon.


    The fort itself was as impressive as the others. It protruded as if part of the wall. The only entrance was through a drawbridge which spanned a moat. Two towers stood beside the gate with loaded catapults looking down. Considering this was the side facing the human kingdoms, the security was already too tight. Fredrich wondered what it looked like on the other side, from the perspective of the enemies. Perhaps that was why they halted their assaults.


    The drawbridge was dropped through a pair of creaked chains. Next was the iron gate. It rose like a curtain from a play. The officer led them inside with tight searches from the guards. Every single article of clothing was removed. Some private areas were inspected thoroughly. Fredrich had never felt so violated before. The worst thing was the smirks on Trest and Gren''s faces.


    Trest patted his back despite his fiery glare. "It''s for the best. People are getting creative in hiding basilisk root nowadays."


    "I didn''t ask." He said.


    "But I did." said Gren.


    Fredrich scowled. He intended to add some harsh words but the line had begun trailing.


    Small brick buildings served as quarters for the cohort. They lined in neat rows and columns pleasing to the eyes. The men of the Rooster legion were either cooking supper or engaging in idle chat. Though he stifled admission, he did feel awe watching these veterans.


    But as they neared, his awe staled into confusion and even that turned to shock. He stopped.


    These people... he thought, eyes wide and so was his mouth. Most of the supposed veterans were younger than him, some not even twenty.


    They are not the original Rooster, are they?

 Crystal I

    ''Today I begin my journey. The winding trek to the north was already unpleasant even before I stepped my first. My pack burdened. My mind stirred. But neither is the cause of my annoyance. I am lone. In this journey supposed to be taken by many, I am alone. I do wonder, am I the only one who still cares?''


    <hr>


    Crystal had heard that the world outside was too different. Returners from the war told tales of a giant ball of flame cast above, moving from one end to another. They say its blinding light blanketed every corner, every bit of the world.


    They also talk of a blue expanse which extended endlessly. Sometimes it would gloom they say, the blue hue replaced with gray. But even that was supposed to be better than the bland glow of the lamps which illuminated Ninev.


    But the endless blue expanse and the fiery ball, although things of awe, were not her world. The lights in her world didn''t come from a ball of flame but from the thousands of lamps that lined the ceiling of the city. They didn''t ebb into what the returners call as night but burned without halt since the beginning- only dimming a bit sometimes. The space above wasn''t endless. She didn''t even know if there was such a thing as endless. Everything was limited in Ninev by the stony ceiling. Every single structure was capped, constrained.


    Crystal didn''t mind the blandness of her home. Or perhaps she did but sheathed the curiosity in the deep recesses of her mind. A part of her wanted to see of course, to witness. But there were pursuits more important than seeing the outside world. Power, for example, was a thing juicier than any mushrooms. And the letter in her hand was her door to attaining it.


    She resumed her walk, braving the streets unknown to her. Beast-drawn carts pulled on one side and pedestrians on the other. The pedestrians skirted away from her. Some eyed her clothing with trepidation.


    The glowing red stone slung as necklace on her neck was a symbol of her being a Gifted, one born with an ability. The cape fastened on her back but fell to front was a clumsy yet formal piece of clothing. And where would a Gifted in a formal attire go except to the High Tower to join the ranks of the Councilors? Thinking about her fate was a tingling pleasure. It would be an honor.


    No. There was no honor in joining the Council.Dogs of the Grand Consul, the Councilors were called. Hated. Feared. But never loved except by the Grand Consul himself. In the Council, there was only power, there was only a race. But that was enough for her. A choice between honor and power was not a choice at all.


    She hastened her strides. The lamps would dim soon, the end of the cycle. She worried getting lost but turning another corner banished it. She had arrived.


    The High Tower pierced the ceiling. Like all structures in Ninev it extended to the roof and carved from the rocks instead of built. The shape was akin to a candle but thicker. Stony steps spiraled around with holes as doors for every floor. The five topmost floors were said to only be accessible to the Grand Consul. The following floors were for the high-ranking Councilors. Being a new Councilor, her access would be limited only to the lowest floors.


    Crystal eyed the top. It looked too distant, too impossible. But she stared at it for long, devouring it in her mind. Up there was power. Authority. Life. The higher one goes, the better life would be. She promised that she would reach that top no matter what.


    She was stopped by two Sentinels before entering the gate. They crossed spears, puffed chests and smiled with haught.


    "Highness" Said one of the Sentinels, eyeing the cape draped on her chest. "Forgive us but this is a restricted zone. Only Councilors are allowed passage. And Sentinels. But you know" He smiled. "Rules"


    She handed them the letter, silent and anxious though she hated feeling that way. The Sentinels were not known for being gentle after all. All of them were Gifted with gifts of increased strength and speed- the most common of gifts actually but not the most useless. Abuses of power of course occur despite the Grand Consul''s denial.


    "Crystal. Good name. Unfortunate thing, Crystal." He met eyes with her. "You are not a Councilor yet. And so we would designate you as a visitor for now. But before that we need to ask questions about you. Don''t worry, paperworks also annoy us. But the Grand Consul''s command is absolute. Now let''s begin with that pretty necklace of yours."


    "Cornette. Mother''s side. Velus, Father."


    "Ah Cornette and Velus. Good blood you have. Veluses are good with enhancements and Cornettes are... well I forgot. They are good with something."


    Alteration, Crystal thought. My mother, you fool, is Marble.


    "So" The Sentinel said, face now closer to hers and eyes glancing down to her chest from time to time. Crystal flinched. "What is your gift?"


    "I can spring air from my hands."


    "So you are good with your hands." The Sentinel was whispering now. The other one was chuckling. "I want to see how good your hands are. Pleasure me." He grinned. "With a demonstration of course. Though I would accept other forms of demonstrations regarding your hand."


    I will remember this. Just you wait. Your faces are etched in my mind. Wait until I become a first rate Councilor. You will rue this day!


    She stifled her annoyance and stepped back. The people around gave no mind to the encounter. She opened her palm and felt a surge of Gift. Tendrils of smoke rose from her palm and in a moment she was worried that she would reveal her true gift.


    That would be catastrophic, she thought.Deadly.


    She willed the dark tendrils to become become air. Her mind was connected to it. It was as of the smoke was her.


    A surge of air erupted from her palm, acting according to her will. The strongest surge could fling a man and she had the urge to do just that to the Sentinel. Thankfully her sense returned.


    "Took you a while." The Sentinel said. "But it is indeed air. Ah yes. The most boring of gifts. For the last questions," The Sentinel''s face was devoid of levity. "Are you a Deviant?"


    "No"


    "And are you a rebel to the Grand Consul?"


    "No."


    The Sentinel again showed his lecherous smile and took a parchment to scribble. The other one returned her letter.


    They allowed her passage not long after. Crystal proceeded without a single glance. Those two were not worth a single more of her breath.


    The first floor was a place of silence. A single wide counter was at the center where an aged Councilor sat from behind. There were corridors leading to the rest of the floor but Crystal doubted that those would nudge her interest.


    Crystal slid the letter and the Councilor regarded it with a scorn. She had expected this. People like this woman existed like fungi in the shadows, always watching and always glooming. She had clearly given up in attaining higher rank and so she welcomed newcomers with derision.


    Pitiful. Disgusting too.People without ambition are worse than dead. At least the dead doesn''t have a choice. Life is a race and such people refused to play just because they lost hope.


    "A new Councilor. How old are you again?"


    "Eighteen" Crystal paused. "In eleven days."


    "So not eighteen yet?" The Councilor raised her eyebrow as if that served to make her look more menacing. It was ridiculous.


    "Just eleven more days."


    "Then come back in eleven days."


    "But I have a letter. And my assigned dwelling is far from here, a few cycles of travel. Surely, whoever sent this to me have deemed the lacking eleven days as negligible."


    "Go away child. Or I''ll be summoning some Sentinels to drag you"


    Crystal smiled, the sweetest she could show. "Please reconsider. I have the letter, don''t I?"


    "Go away child."


    "I will not. Like what I said, a Councilor of a higher rank sent me this letter. I''m not saying anything but I thought rank holds weight in here. And seeing your inability in reaching a higher rank, I am compelled to believe that you should follow this letter."The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "You dare insult me? A Councilor and yet you are what? A pup who received a letter. For all I know that could be fake."


    Crystal''s smile bloomed even sweeter despite her anger.This hag, despite appearances, is still a Councilor.She shouldn''t insult a Councilor. She should just nod, smile and go home. She should...


    "Hag" the word slipped from her mouth.


    The hag''s already ugly forehead turned uglier with a deepened scowl. Crystal was prepared for yells and perhaps a summon of the Sentinels. The hag opened her mouth but then her expression abated all of a sudden as if she was suffering from a rare emotional disease.


    The hag tilted to the side, past Crystal, and smiled. "An honor Highness for you to grace us."


    Crystal looked back. A woman with a cape was behind. Her red stone necklace was pulsating with glows. Three burly Sentinels guarded her, armored and armed. The woman''s features matched Crystal''s- flaxen hair, dark eyes and small face.


    Marble. It was a meeting unplaned. Unexpected, even.


    Crystal had doubts over the years whether Marble, one of the fifteen first rate Councilors, was indeed her mother. But looking at her up close confirmed the thought.


    Marble looked at her and in a moment they wallowed in a certain connection. Marble''s face softened a bit until it reversed to the usual steely look as she turned to the hag.


    "Based on your terrible scowl, there seems to be trouble with regards to this girl. Your crass yells are annoying. Now speak of the problem."


    "This girl, Highness. Underaged for the position in the Council yet she wants to push today."


    "Just eleven days short Highness. And I have the letter." Crystal said. "My assigned dwelling is in Area Ninety-two."


    It was Marble''s turn to frown at the hag. "Do you know how far Area Ninety-two is?"


    "Highness..."


    "Two cycles walk. Half a cycle with a beast-drawn cart. And do you know who sent her the recommendation letter?"


    "Highness please..."


    "Me. Take her letter and be done with it."


    Marble turned back gently but stopped. She beckoned to Crystal, delicate fingers moving.


    "Come" She walked again and Crystal followed.


    They ascended the spiral stairs with the Sentinel guards. The first few hundred steps were of silence. Only the clank of the Sentinels'' armor could be heard.


    Several other Councilors going down met them in the stairs. All provided a bow to Marble. Crystal was still confused as to what was happening or what would happen. But she was joyed. Marble, one of the fifteen first rate Councilors, was the one who sent for her.


    "You are to become my assistant" Marble said.


    "Assistant?" Crystal gasped. "Highness..."


    "Or you could begin at the bottom, crawling your way up in a wretched struggle. Choose."


    "Yes. I will become your assistant." Crystal rolled her lower lip. "But Highness, forgive me for asking but why?"


    "Oh you know why. Because you are my daughter."


    If there was a smile on Crystal''s face, it had retreated the moment she made sense of Marble''s statement.


    Marble looked back. "Oh don''t be so pale. I do still recall birthing a child once. Your look like me and age hadn''t blinded me yet from connecting the facts. Your father is... well his name eludes remembrance. I was paired with him, three sessions we had before another Councilor conrfirmed my conception. Questions?"


    Crystal didn''t know why. She didn''t know how. But she found Marble''s casual attitude as displeasing. She shouldn''t. She shared nothing with this woman except blood. But the constricted thumps of her heart were too true to ignore.


    "Working with relatives is prohibited, I have heard." Crystal said.


    "Indeed. The Grand Consul deemed filial emotions as dangerous. But I am a first rate Councilor. I have proven my grit and loyalty several times over. And I am in need of an assistant with the same gift as mine. You can Air Surge right?"


    "How did you know?"


    "Because I''ve been looking for an Air Surger." Marble said after a few breaths. "The probability of offsprings inheriting the same gifts as their parents is high. We Air Surgers are a few bunch. How far are you in your Air Surging? Can you hover?"


    "Hover? We can do that?"


    "I could hover since I was your age."


    Crystal looked down on Marble''s feet. The long dragging skirt hid the view.


    "No, I am doing it right now." Marble pulled her skirt. "So? My question"


    "No Highness. I can produce air from my hand but that''s it."


    "That would be a complication. No matter. You are young. Youth has the advantage of space for growth. You may be puzzled as what I require you as my assistant. You know who I am right? What my designation is?"


    "Mining."


    "Ah yes. That''s a way to simplify it. Mining. As if the significance of what I and my men do limits to shovels and picks."


    "I misspoke. You mine red stones and in a way you power the whole of Ninev."


    "Right. Do not forget, red stones is the life of Ninev. Without red stones our food won''t fledge, the lamps won''t glow and Ninev would freeze. You will follow me in the deep crevices of the mines. I am the word there. Every order that escapes my mouth must be followed. In exchange you will be trained in management and we shall see what we can do with your meager Air Surging." She halted. "It would be a great honor for you to trek my footsteps."


    Not honor, just power.


    "Of course Highness. I am honored. So what now?"


    Marble peeked below and Crystal imitated. She regretted doing so. They were so high up that people looked like dust from below. Her knees tendered and every hair on her body bristled. She took a step back, clutching her pounding chest.


    "A long way down. I shouldn''t have stayed as I explained but alas my habit of walking while having dialogue stuck. You can''t sojourn in my floor, not until that hag below was through with your documents. I have bent a rule already and bending some more would bend my credibility. I will call for you in a cycle but for now you must find a nearby dwelling. How many cycles of temporary shelter does your Permit to Travel allow?"


    "Five Highness."


    "Then you should still be able to go back to wherever you were last cycle. The lamps would dim soon. You better go." Marble clicked her tongue. "But descending would take long and I am culpable. Very well. Hang onto me. We will jump."


    Jump. Crystal grinned to the unexpected word. Her grin shied when Marble didn''t show any evidence of it being a jest.


    She looked down. The wind battered her hair. Thirty stories, probably. Or more.


    "Jump, Highness?"


    Marble whisked the Sentinels away and took Crystal by the arm. It happened too sudden that the scream didn''t have time to escape her throat. Marble jumped from the stairs.


    They fell of course. They fell and Crystal clung tightly. Her stomach clenched as the ground sped to them. She expected a splatter- her bones splintered and her flesh squashed. Would it be painful? Or would she just cease in existing all of sudden?


    They slowed. She was shutting her eyes but the swift wind rattling her cheeks had become a gentle breeze. She opened her eyes, afraid but curious.


    They were falling. Indeed that terrifying fact remained true. But the gusts of air from Marble''s hand gentled their descent.


    Calmness. Yes there was that feeling. But there was also something more. Amazement probably or was it admiration? Ninev was an expanse which occupied everything in her vision. The rock structures carved into dwellings, the thousands of lamps shining above, the streets both wide and narrow, the pedestrians and carts towed by beasts- she had never seen such a sight before.


    "Do you know that we are living inside a mountain?" Marble asked, eyes radiant and lips curving a thin smile.


    "What is a mountain?"


    "I don''t know either." Marble looked at her, there was kindness in that look. Tenderness too. "The people who return from the war outside brought home a lot of strange words. Mountains. Rains. Sun. Moon. Sky. I wonder where we would also share what they saw."


    "You are a First-rate Councilor, Highness. You can go outside."


    "Not really. I am as shackled as you are. We are all shackled. I hope you could witness, Crystal. The Grand Consul''s promise is that we could all leave this city once the enemies had been vanquished. I am growing tired of waiting. Learn from me Crystal. Learn everything and have power. So that one day you could go out there and witness too."


    Crystal clung tighter as if she wanted to be cradled. It was a confusing gesture and an even more confusing thought. She reiterated that she shared nothing except blood with this woman. But there seemed to be something else connecting them. Perhaps it was nothing and just the ramblings of her tired mind. But if blood really could make a connection, then she understood why the Grand Consul prohibited relatives from working in close contact.


    Filial feelings dulled thought. Corruption and impartiality would sprout from it. It was terrible to one''s ambition too. She must suppress it.


    They landed softly on the ground. Crystal uncoiled her arms and patted her creased dress.


    "Thank you. I will go now Highness."


    "I should go with you."


    "No. I can go by myself."


    "The lamps had dulled. It would be dangerous."


    Crystal provided a smile. "I will be waiting for you to send for me Highness."


    She turned the other, never glancing back. Her steps hurried to the gate.


    Marble is a stepping stone, she thought- more of a reminder. Commoners bond with their mothers and fathers but Gifted Ninevans were different. They were bred differently, raised differently and lived differently.


    She went past the gate, unopposed by the Sentinels. The streets had become dark with the dimming of the lamps. She turned corners and entered alleys, getting lost was not a concern anymore. She knew her way.


    "Crystal" A familiar voice slithered from a dark corner.


    Crystal flinched as she looked for the voice. The tall figure of the lecherous sentinel earlier was on the side a few steps further. He was leaning on a wall, face half shrouded by darkness.


    She halted. The thought of running was playing in her mind. The Sentinel faced her and smiled.


    What does he want? He wouldn''t do something right? Right?But looking at the Sentinel''s smile doubted that thought.


    He barreled to her, quick as blink. Crystal puffed air from her palm. The air spiraled and aimed but the Sentinel avoided with sidesteps. He was lithe- too lithe for his size. He stopped near her face, hands clasped behind. He rubbed nose with her and flitted to the side as if playing with her.


    He rushed again, faster this time. Crystal willed the smoky tendrils from her palm to form iron. It did and bits of iron darted from her palm. The Sentinel again avoided, jumping and sliding until he patted her cheek and laughed.


    "So you are not an Air Surger." He was behind her before she knew it. "Your ability to fling both air and iron is not among the known gifts. You are a Deviant."


    Crystal whisked her hand to the back, propelling dust. It clouded and she sprinted away.


    "Graphite!" The Sentinel voiced from behind "Powdered graphite too? Impressive, Crystal. Impressive."


    She closed her ears to him. She must run, escape. The Sentinel was clearly stronger than her. A wide street was only a few hundred steps to the front. It was within her reach. She could escape.


    Everything blurred.


    Crystal opened her eyes slowly. It was the same dark alley but she was on the ground. Her hands were bound.


    The Sentinel squatted to her front. He lifted her chin with a finger. "A beautiful Deviant. Forgive me but the only Deviant I know is an old man."


    "Stop it Breeze" Another person said but Crystal didn''t see anyone else.


    A hand erupted from the shadows. And soon, a face. A man soon formed from total darkness. His dark coat was buttoned to the neck. His hat was tall and weird. His cane was loud against the stones. He squatted next to the Sentinel.


    "You know who I am, child?" He asked.


    Crystal of course knew and her blood turned cold. She could never make a mistake when it comes to faces. His appearance, his clothes, his gift- all confirmed a terrible fact.


    The man''s name was Shadow and he was the head of the Resistance.

 Leo II

    ''Two months it has been. Two fruitless months. I wonder if I should just stop. Stop this journey and stop caring. That would be good. So what makes me trudge forward? What sweeps my feet to stand in the morning? What prevents me from going home? Shame? Hope? No, I have been exhausted of those too long ago. I think, like all things that propels people for action, it is fear.''


    <hr>


    The day was good, until it wasn''t.


    Winds battered the Swordfish, rocking it like a crib. It swayed as mountainous waves surged from all sides.


    Leo clung tightly, both arms and feet grasping every fiber of the rope he could. Other passengers also held. The Swordfish rocked to the right. It was a deep fall this time. He prepared, taking a gulp of air and holding his breath.


    His stomach clenched. They fell- for what seemed to be a long time- they fell. And they hit.


    Seawater washed the deck. Leo steeled his grip. For a moment he thought he would slip. Salty water desecrated his nose. He held, hands shaking, he held dearly for life.


    It passed. The noble boy clinging on the pole was gone and so were about two others, swept by the wave and lost forever.


    "Lower the damn sails!" He heard Captain Hilet shout. The Captain was drenched but his walk was calm.


    "The damn sails mate! The damn sails!"


    "We can''t Cap." Said a pitiful sailor. This one had a bleeding temple. "Stuck. Omniscient. It''s stuck!"


    "We are flooded Cap!" Shouted another sailor from below the deck. "Side''s been busted."


    "Dammit dammit dammit!" The Captain eyed the remaining passengers. "What are you looking at? Go eh? Below''s flooded. Get them buckets and start scooping!"


    The passengers scrambled for the buckets. Leo struggled to move. He grabbed a wooden bucket from a sailor and went below deck.


    It was indeed flooded. Half of the stairs was submerged. Leo scooped a bucket and threw the contents on the deck. He scooped some more and more and more until a shout slapped the deck.


    "Billow!"


    The galley rose. Leo thought of staying under the deck. It would save him from the crass wash after the billow but if the galley would sink, he would be trapped.


    He slid outside and found the same rope he held onto earlier. They traced the body of a huge wave. He clung. They began to fall. He waited.


    The fall was strangely calm as if he was back on his favorite hammock in the palace. The wind ruffled his hair. And then everything exploded. Parts of the deck were splintered. Crew and passengers alike were swept.


    The galley went underwater after the fall. Leo held his breath.


    Are we going to surface again? Is this it? Are we sinking? I should let go. I should float and brave drifting with the waves. Omniscient I don''t want to die.


    The galley floated again. Leo gasped for air, not minding breathing some seawater in the process. He coughed and scratched the wooden deck with his nails. Four more people were taken by the waves- that aged madame, the loud peddler of spices, that man who liked to brood and the funny guy whose name was probably Flint.


    He stayed lying on the deck, face down. Strength left his arms and hope too was in short supply. This wasn''t the adventure he wanted. He dreamed of glorious scenes, a rediscovery of lost city perhaps, grand revolutions, battles like the ones his father fought, intrigue, mystery. But never this wet punishment. Never this.


    Would he die? Was this all punishment from the Omniscient? For dreaming of a little fame? For abandoning his responsibility?


    He hoped not. He was young and hadn''t proved anything yet. His father was already an accomplished King when he was Leo''s age. His mother was also already a Queen, a great one at that. As for him, he was still a child living under the fame of his parents. He had proven nothing and if he dies now, he would be a corpse without a name.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    Sunlight beamed against the wet plank of the deck a couple of paces away. Leo thought he was going blind. Perhaps the winds and the waves had dazed him to being delirious.


    He reached to it as if sunlight could be held. His wrinkled finger caught light. Soon the light extended to occupy the whole deck. He looked above. The sun was smiling. The winds were still. The sea was gentle.


    Gone was the storm, the death. He smiled.


    "Highness" Captain Hilet supported him to a sit.


    "I am alright Captain." He looked above. "The Omniscient is merciful."


    "No. No, no, no. This ain''t mercy, Prince Leo. We are in the eye."


    "Eye. The storms eye?"


    The Captain beckoned for him to stand. He did, the struggle made him grunt.


    "The sea. Its anger would return soon." Captain Hilet looked around. "I fear we ain''t surviving another battering."


    Leo sank on the Captain''s assessment. The ship was indeed sinking. Splinters of wood stuck around. The poles had fallen, the sails long gone. The hull was tilting to the right, perhaps flooded below. And that crack in the center didn''t look comforting.


    The sailors and passengers were scooping water with buckets. Some were praying and crying.


    "They are still trying." Leo said.


    "Trying won''t save your life. Making sound decisions would."


    "And so what do you suggest?"


    "Float. The next billow would be sinking us." He pointed to a downed barrel. "Get in there. I''ll be sealing it."


    He wants me to float in that thing?


    Leo shook his doubts. They can''t waste time.


    They popped the cover. Red dust spilled. Spices. He didn''t know what kind but the pungency confirmed the contents as spices.


    The smell burned his nose. Even his eyes watered. He and the Captain dumped the contents though the smell remained.


    They popped three holes as air vents. One was too large for Leo''s comfort. The Captain assured him that it won''t flood but his unease remained.


    Leo went inside. He could barely sit. He sneezed to the spice.


    "You have gold?" The Captain whisked his head. "Nevermind that. Do you have a weapon? Wherever you''d drift, you''d be needing a weapon."


    Leo patted his side and remembered leaving his sword behind. He also didn''t have money. All he had was that journal he was reading before the sky grimmed.


    "No."


    The Captain gave Leo the one on his waist. The dagger was old yet well-maintained.


    "And you?" Leo asked.


    He thumbed to the back. "I can''t abandon ''em. Sail your worries away, Highness. You''ll be alright."


    It was selfish act, being the only one with a barrel to ride. But he didn''t want to die. Drowning in this storm was a fate made certain if he stays.


    "Thank you Captain."


    The Captain nodded. "I owe your mother a great debt. We all do. For the Union."


    "For the Union."


    The Captain sealed the barrel. Leo snuggled, arms wrapped around his knees. He peeped trough one of the holes. Dark clouds were ahead. There were thunders this time. The temporary calm was waning. A drizzle had begun. The sun''s smile ebbed.


    The galley rocked.


    ***


    Leo dreamed of a dream, one which resembled a memory. He felt it in his bones as if the dream was reality and him being Leo was the dream.


    The sky was red. Crimson. The sun hid behind a blanket of haze. There was no wind, not even a breeze. Somehow that made him sad.


    He was on a hill overlooking a gentle valley. The grasses were fledgling. Flowers were scattered every few feet. He wasn''t familiar with flowers though he was certain they were gardenias. He plucked one. The sweet smell wafted. His grandfather loved gardenias.


    Who?


    Who was his grandfather again? And with that thought, who was he again? His name. He had a name. He knew he had, the one given to him by his father and his mother.


    Father. Mother.


    Who were they? He could see faces in scenes and memories. A dark eyed man with an even darker hair. A woman always smiling and always loving. Who were they?


    Does it matter? Of course it does. It does! They were his father and mother. They raised him, with loving care they raised him. He grew up with them, the four of them. His brother, his mother, his father and him. They were close, knitted to a loving family. They were happy, always smiling despite colossal problems. His father was King, a great one who vanquished armies. His mother was a Queen. Her wits were sharper than obsidian. His brother, his little brother, was foul-mouthed but kind. They were his whole life and this journey was for him to prove himself. He would return...


    Return. Where? What am I thinking again? Who am I? What am I? I don''t know. I seem to forget an important thing. Something. Yes. There was something. I need to remember. Forgetting is sad. I need it. What is it?


    Does it matter? Does it? Does it? Does it? Probably not. Nothing mattered anymore. He was no one. He was nowhere. He originated from nothing. Identity was a distraction. There was only... purpose.


    What was his purpose again? Ah yes, that he remembered. Simple. It was a simple purpose. It was to destroy.


    ***


    The docile waves rended Leo from his sleep. He dreamed of something though not a bit of it stayed for memory. He didn''t even know what it was about.


    He coughed water on the sand. He struggled to rise yet strength fled his arms. A fall onto the soft sand followed but it still hurt.


    At least he was alive- battered, broken and drowned- but alive. He stayed face-down for a while.


    Judging from the aches, he must have broken something. His father always reminded that broken bones would heal if given sufficient care. His mother would then argue that it would be better to prevent injuries in the first place.


    He remembered them. His brother too. He missed home. Leaving was a mistake. And now he was alone.

 Fredrich II

    ''Teril doesn''t seem to be the place. The people are friendly but the customs are weird. Still, my stay here was a pleasant one. Tomorrow my journey resumes into the Federation of Sta. I think I would pay a visit to Peleva. My bones thrums just thinking about it. A lost city, a mystery unsolved. Peleva awaits my certain arrival to its dusted gates. If only I am not alone. If only the others cared. But ifs only stall my journey. I must continue.''


    <hr>


    Fredrich hated what they are doing.


    They open their mouths and words come out. Sometimes words with melodies- bad ones. Sometimes laughter. Oh how he despised laughter. It was as if they were not at the edge of the world, awaiting the next attack of the Ninevans.


    And his annoyance would soon deepen. Those two were already strutting toward him, bearing their mess tins. Gren and Trest they were called, names he would rather forget but too late now. They squatted beside the rock he was sitting on, flanking him... and smiling. Oh they smiled.


    "Trest and I have been squabbling about something Fred." Gren said, pausing to drown his chin on his soup.


    Ah yes. They mean to include me. How cute. How unnecessary.


    Gren pointed at the other soldiers having breakfast. "The Rooster. Why do you this legion is named as such? Seems to be a strange name for the King''s Legion eh? Trest says that it''s the talon. A rooster''s talon is lethal. I say that''s too simple. My guess is that a rooster''s comb looks like a crown and so King Timothy named his personal legion as the Rooster. So, your comment on the matter."


    It''s because, Fredrich thought, when King Timothy was still a prince, he was assigned with the original Rooster legion in guarding a castle called Knightsend. He disciplined the garrison, ordering a march in full armor every dawn. They say he would rise before any of the soldiers and would crow them into a march. They called him Rooster Prince and so the name transferred to the legion when he became the King.


    "Don''t know. Don''t care. Bugger someone else." Fredrich said.


    "Well I do think a rooster''s comb has nothing in common with a crown." Trest pushed the issue.


    "And your explanation about talons is unerred? An eagle''s talon is longer, sharper and deadlier. Why would the King choose a measly rooster?" Gren rebutted, leaning closer and resting his sharp elbow on Fredrich''s leg.


    "Because of reasons!" Trest patted Fredrich''s back, forcing him to cough water. "He''s the king. He has reasons unknown to us."


    "But reasons have roots and your explanation is built upon soft ground. It''s the crown."


    "The talon."


    "The crown I say."


    "Talon"


    "It''s neither you lumbering fools!" Fredrich was wide-eyed, shivering by the noises they disturb his meal with. "The rooster," he raised a stiff finger to both their irking faces. "Came from King Timothy''s time at Knightsend. You know what happened at Knightsend? No because you don''t read and you just bicker and talk and laze around and disturb me."


    Gren blinked to his bellow. "So, what happened at Knightsend again?"


    Fredrich poured the remaining contents of his mess tin in his mouth. He hurried away from the buggers, face burning as it always did.


    He ascended the stairs leading to the wall''s top. A hundred and fifty-nine steps, he counted. He was winded after the act but preferred being short of breath than listening to those two.


    The Terpet Wall was amazing, perhaps one of the sunshines in this world. It extended for leagues, both ends too far for sight. The width allowed a plethora of defenses- catapults mostly loaded with Vanadian Fire. Guards in full armor patrolled in groups of five, weapons at the ready and sights keen for Shadow Beasts.


    An ample plain sprawled to the north, carpeted by grasses and trees. The same sight was to the south. In a way Terpet Wall was a galley in an ocean. They were alone- isolated- still yet heading to a direction unknown. They were not abandoned thought it felt that way.


    It was a perilous place. Everything reminded him of that. The guards, the wall, the forts, the siege weapons. Despite the calmness and the long respite in the enemy''s assault, despite the cool wind and graceful sight, the Ninevans were a threat looming just beyond the delicate grasslands.


    How could they laugh when they could be dead this very night? How could they chatter about the King and the Queen''s greatness when those two were the same ones who forced this fate upon them? How could they think of loyalty if it doesn''t exist? Living was a bleak act and hiding beneath false smiles wouldn''t make it better.


    "Now that''s a man." Someone said. He was sitting on one of the wall''s parapets. He wore a uniform marked special with its green hue. The coat was fastened by a single button in the stomach, showing the underlying mail. On his chest was the mark of a cane and a sword crossed below a crown. He was reading a book. "Some people stare at ladies. Some at weapons. You, on the other hand, wastes time staring at nothing. People really are a diverse bunch."


    "What do you know of people - of humans- Ninevan?"


    "Ah, the tongue is crisp I see. But the mind is shallow." He chuckled. "Your perspective is not unique. Others, especially younger ones, still view me as an enemy. You are not incorrect. My kind and your kind have been waging war for two decades, thus this wall, this fort," The Ninevan looked at him. "And that frown on your face. The name is Ice."


    "I didn''t ask."


    "Nor did I for your intrusion to my reading but here you are, distracting me with your weird stares in the unknown."


    "Then I''ll be leaving. I see no sense in this conversation."


    "No. Stay. Your distraction is a far better punishment than further boredom with this stupid book." Ice clapped the book. "And something tells me you desire to be away from the rest of your kind."


    Fredrich sat on the next parapet. The wind was fresh here though a steep fall awaited the careless.


    "The book," Fredrich said, cursing his curiosity. "What is it about?"


    The Ninevan threw the book on his lap. The sudden act flinched Fredrich near into falling. Fredrich glared back but flipped the book after. It wasn''t what he expected. The language was not human.


    "What language is this?" He asked.


    "I don''t know. And it''s not a book, it is a journal. Ashkara''s journal. Your monarchs were hoping for translation but nobody had. Perhaps your brooding into the vast plains developed you a gift in translation. Enlighten me then, what is your name again?"


    "I''d rather not inform an enemy."Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    "I''ll call you Urine then."


    "Fredrich. My name''s Fredrich."


    "A good name, better than Urine. Your mother has a better penchant in dealing names than myself. Well Fredrich, the journal is yours. It is a gift from your friend Ice."


    "Friend is too brazen of a statement even for a Ninevan. You annoy me."


    "And you, me. Annoyance is a strange feeling. It is a teetering distance from anger yet the difference is clear. So you don''t hate me then? Good. Hate and camaraderie don''t mingle well."


    "You are not my comrade either."


    "Because of my race?"


    "Yes," Fredrich answered, disappreciating the lubricated conversation. "You may hide behind that badge but the fact is that you are a traitor. You betrayed your kind and acts as if you are one of us. A betrayer will always be a betrayer."


    "I can''t say that we are in a smooth agreement. I am not a traitor. I prefer being considered as reversely loyal."


    "I am not pertaining to your affiliation but at the speed in which you changed sides. You waned like a short-rooted grass."


    "You found some truth in the matter. I waned, yes. I do remember fighting against you and then fighting with you the next day. I turned from my kind and bared my fangs instead. But am I to be judged by the same side benefiting from my betrayal? I prefer not to be."


    "And what prevents you from reversing your loyalty again?"


    "Nothing. You know what I am. You know what I can do. I could kill you after this sentence and this sentence is done now." He paused. "But I didn''t. And if your trust in me is really rusted then it is hypocritical for you to stay one merlon away."


    Fredrich nodded. Ninevan traitors like this one had been sworn into the defense of the walls. It was not that he hated this Ninevan. Ice chose and he trekked the path of being a traitor. "So, this book."


    "Yours. Your world is too abundant in beauty. I''m not wasting a single glance on that book."


    "Thank you."


    "No, thank you." The Ninevan''s pause was too long for comfort. "You are new. All you newcomers have that stupid look. Yours just happens to be worse. Have you seen a Shadow Beast, Fredrich?"


    "The walls had worked well so far that I didn''t get the pleasure seeing one down south. Yet stories travel."


    "Stories are not facts. I''ve heard them too, in my pleasant trips down south, I''ve heard the rumors you have about these beasts I once fought with. And I must say, or rather repeat, stories are not facts."


    Fredrich agreed. He hated idle talks for the matter. Facts turned the world. Truth would always be superior to lies. His irk toward Gren and Trest was also driven by the same reason. Those two and the others lived under pleasant lies.


    He held the book high. Ashkara was still being revered as God in Wismar but the followers were dwindling. Most now believed that Ashkara was a Ninevan before the Great Disaster. So much of the mysteries shrouding the world still hazed truths. "Tell me then. Shadow Beasts."


    "Perhaps in the next of times." The Ninevan slid off the parapet. He patted its uniform and cocked its head. "I am hungry. Human food are just too enticing to ignore."


    Fredrich followed not long after. The afternoon was reserved for training. Old men in distinguished uniform taught basics regarding the spear. It was surprising that the spear- the humblest of weapons- actually offered complexity.


    "Aim for the Beast''s head" The old soldier said, breaking the air with a thrust. "Aim true strong. Do not falter for a moment of distraction would see you killed."


    Right, Fredrich thought. A moment of distraction is lethal indeed. Monsters devour the unfocused. Even people take advantage of the uncommitted.


    His body ached like how it should that evening. He fell into slumber, nonchalant to Gren and Test''s bothers. It was a difficult life. Being levied into this isolated killing zone was a curse by the monarchs. Two more years, he thought. Two more years of surviving would bring him back home to Solon. But to that he didn''t find solace as he would live under the tyranny of that man again. Maybe living here would be better than going home.


    No, he decided. Here and back home were equal in bleakness. Life had a talent in providing a unique flavor of misery for every single location.


    ***


    "Shadow Beasts are mysteries as magic is." The Ninevan traitor said the next day. It stood now stood on the parapet, arms spread as if wings. "You asked for description. Though I know more than others- with personal account as my basis- my knowledge equates to breadcrumbs."


    "Can I outrun them?"


    "Your question betrays your personality. Other men would ask if they could defeat one. While you," He looked back."Alas I am here not to be your guidance but merely to impress my knowledge and kill boredom. As for your query, I think you cannot. The small ones, probably. But the larger ones? You better have a horse for that. A quick one. And smart. Dull horses often lose their wits and would rather neigh than run."


    "And if I run, how far would they chase?"


    "Still bent on running I see. Chase is a difficult subject to discuss. Shadow beasts are diverse as much as humans and Ninevans are. Some liked chasing as much as you admire running. Still, I must entice you with the decision of fighting. Because if you run, there would be one man missing by my side. One man could mean the difference between falling and winning. Besides you swore by your flag to stay and defend the realm of man, didn''t you?"


    "Empty words. Husks. I was forced to oath."


    "Ah. That''s why you have the gloom in you. As if you are dark clouds. Your life must be pleasant before being dragged here."


    "Pleasant. No. I was wealthy, yes. Clothes of silk, ornaments of gold and silver. Gems. Ladies. A mansion not shy of being grand. It wasn''t pleasant."


    "Comparatively though, is it? Better than farmer boys and miners? Better than urchins in the recesses of cities or muggers beside roads."


    "No. Still not better. Living in wealth is not living in happiness."


    The Ninevan turned. He looked up and showed a thin smile. "I get you. I was an officer when I was with the other side. I led packs of beasts. Now look at me. I am a lowly member in your humble fort, scorned by young men like you. Even the older men don''t talk kindly to me. Still I remain. Why do you think so?"


    "Please don''t say loyalty."


    "I am not of the dramatic kind" Ice chuckled. "Because home was a prison. Yes, I could eat aplenty, my belly swollen and my mouth greased. I have authority being a Councilor. Life was good. But I would have traded those even for a single glimpse of the sun. I remember my first time being bathed under it. I was afraid, terrified of the glowing burning anger above." It spread its arms again, now closing its eyes. "It is not loyalty. Rather I think it was selfishness. The world is too beautiful to ignore, too precious to leave."


    Fredrich disagreed with all his being. The world was not precious and beautiful was an empty word to describe it. But looking at the Ninevan being bathed in sunlight, eyes close with tears balling on sides, he couldn''t retort.


    ***


    "Where are you going?" Trest again patted his back the next day. The Hadean''s grin was an unwelcomed sight after the annoying pat.


    "He''s been upping the wall" Gren said, eating his lunch. They had venison stew today, cooked with too much salt. "Now, Fred. You are making us sad. Would you rather look at the scenery rather than converse with your friends?"


    Fredrich just stared at Gren until the Vanadian showed a shy smile and went back to his stew. He licked the last of the stew and hid his mess tin in their assigned building.


    He began the tiring business of ascending the wall. Every step was torment to his stiff leg. There were a hundred and fifty-nine of such torments. He found his legs better suited to the ascent now. The first few days had him grip the brick handrail after the eightieth step.


    He didn''t know why he was still listening to Ice. It was information he sought at first and Ice had already taught him everything about the Shadow Beast. Maybe his mind just thirsted for the deep conversations.


    He was winded after one hundred and thirty steps. Twenty more to go, he thought. A dozen and six. He stepped, each was placed firmly. Soon he was on top.


    The same sight welcomed. The parapets, the artillery, the sentries positioned every hundred paces, the patrols. But Ice wasn''t there. The parapet the Ninevan always sat on was empty. He went to the parapet and sat.


    The wind ruffled his hair. The mellow sun was pleasant to his skin. It was peace. Their world didn''t have the sun, the sky, the stars, Ice said. He shut his eyes and forced an imagination of such a world. He found that he cannot.


    Should he feel blessed now? Grateful that he was born here and not in Ninev? Or maybe just for the fact that he was born wealthy. Others desire his birthright. A noble, his title said. Despite being stripped of power by King Timothy, nobles still held high positions.


    But he cannot feel grateful. People desire what they lack and people only see what they desire. Others desire being him for they lack the status and the wealth. But they were blind as much as he. They see the glimmers, the grand silk clothes, the mansion built on top of a hill. What they don''t see was the consequences entailed of being born a noble. Of being a son of that man.


    Fredrich''s vision caught movement. Subtle, slow, small, yet he saw it. The northern horizon was lined by a certain dark line. He squinted, eye preying on every small detail.


    Something was moving toward them. They extended from the far west to the east, unending as the Terpet Wall. He shivered on the realization.


    Horns blared, one for every fort. The booming sound was eerie. They didn''t stop. They thrummed without halt, singing a song nobody desire.


    Strong hands grabbed his shoulder, flinging him away. Ice was in armor. His worry was deep. "Get back" Ice said. "Find your unit."


    Fredrich froze. He looked again and the line was clearer now. "Shadows beasts? Those are Shadow Beasts?"


    He thought Ice would scold him again for still wasting time. But the Ninevan just stared to the north. His calm and playful demeanor was blasted into worry.


    "Yes" Ice said. "They have returned."

 Crystal II

    What is one without a purpose? Barer than bare, poorer than poor. We have a purpose once. We just ignored it to being forgotten. Oh what a great sin we did.


    <hr>


    Crystal had heard of a tale obscured to a rumor. Spoken in hushed tones and bowed heads, the tale was never discussed in public yet every ear knows of it. It was a tale of the Grand Consul''s breach of duty.


    Depending in whose perspective, Shadow was either dragging or leading her. She was being forced and this was an abduction but they walked the streets in normal paces. Her body had blurred and so was Shadow''s. They were unseen through unmindful eyes as if part of the darkness.


    "Your gift," Shadow said. "Powerful. It is powerful. Air, iron, graphite. What else? Ah we did see you produce gold five cycles ago." He puffed a chuckle. "Be careful with that. You may end up toppling the economy. Human economy anyway."


    They''ve been watching her. And so her undesired encounter with the Sentinel earlier was not the moment they discovered her being a Deviant.


    "Highness please..."


    "Highness?" Shadow bent a look at her. He was old yet had a face still brimming of confidence. "No, Crystal. I am not a Councilor anymore. And I have severed every connection I have with that man on top of the tower. Address me as sire as what the humans do."


    "Sire..." She forced despite her trembling mouth. "I will keep this a secret. Let me go. I will quit the Council and live a normal life. Yes, like one of those wandering Gifteds. Please."


    "She is afraid sire." The Sentinel said, walking beside them.


    "An insightful assessment Breeze. Yes. Wonderful. Of course she is. We abducted her and you were too rough earlier." Shadow caned the Sentinel lightly on the head. "And you''ve been drooling over her. Remember that I can see your sticky looks."


    "She''s a pretty thing."


    "Fiddle my thoughts with your shallow reasons one more time." Shadow nudged the Sentinel''s arm with his cane. "Do it. Try my patience."


    "Alright sire. Won''t happen again."


    A patrol of Sentinels presented to their front after turning a corner. The empty street was filled only with the heavy thumps of their boots. Four, Crystal counted. All armored an spears prepared.


    "You are going to scream right?" Shadow sighed. "And run. I don''t consider it to be a good idea."


    The Sentinels neared. Two against four would be a tilting disadvantage for Shadow and the lecher. And Shadow''s gift didn''t seem to be as useful as the Sentinels'' in a fight. Crystal prepared, every step closer sped her heartbeat.


    "Help me!" She struggled from Shadow''s grasp. Thankfully Shadow let go of her. Bending forward, she ran.


    "Help!" She reached the Sentinels, hands tied behind and gift muffled. The Sentinels were quick to grab her and present spears. Their eyes glowed silver as their gifts of strength and speed showed.


    She huddled behind. A battle loomed. Shadow and Breeze were still hidden. Perhaps they had given up? No. Impossible thoughts swayed her from sense. Shadow was not known to give up.


    The blurry figure of two men showed a few paces to the front. They strode, calmly, boots soft on the street. Shadow was smiling.


    The four Sentinels upped their spears. They balled their hands onto their chests.


    "Pleasant evening boys." Shadow said.


    "Pleasant evening Shadow," said one of the Sentinels. He looked at Crystal and then back at Shadow. "She''s the Deviant? She''s young sire."


    "And pretty" Breeze winked at her.


    No. Crystal stepped back. These Sentinels... No.


    "I did tell you shouting wouldn''t be a good idea." Shadow gripped her arm again. Their figures became akin to smoke. They resumed the walk with the four Sentinels following them now. Crystal had lost hope if she even had it in the first place.


    "What do you want from me?" She asked, voice squeaky to fear.


    "We want you to join us. The Resistance desires you."


    "Fine. I will join you."


    "Lie. You are not thinking about joining us. You just want to escape."


    "No sire. I actually have grown to love your ideals. The Resistance. We must topple the Grand Consul so that we can be free."


    Shadow''s subsequent chuckle was repeated by the Sentinels.


    "She is young. Forgive her." Shadow said.


    "Oh I have forgiven her already." Breeze added.


    "So" Shadow ruffled her hair. "Young woman, according to your words, you have grown in agreement with the ideals of the Resistance. Might you be kind to remind us what these ideals are?"


    "Freedom. For the Grand Consul oppresses. And justice. Because he led an attack against the humans. He must pay for his crimes."


    "Oh no she''s beginning to bland into sounding like one of those actors in plays." Shadow ruffled her hair again. "No matter. You are are correct. Freedom and justice. But I can recognize your hollow tone. You neither care about freedom nor justice. You only care about power. Strength."


    Crystal''s fear was shrouded in irritation. Shadow seemed to talk too casually about her as if he knew. As if he understood.


    He doesn''t. What did he do anyway? He fled and joined forces with the humans. A traitor. Once he was the Grand Consul''s sin, a reminder that even the Grand Consul errs. Despite being a Deviant, Shadow was raised by the Grand Consul as a son. Other Deviants were executed after birth. But Shadow? No. He lived a pleasant life. And yet he ran and betrayed their kind.


    He doesn''t know anything. He doesn''t know how difficult it was hiding being a Deviant, how one small mistake would reveal her true gift. Crystal spent most nights worrying whether Sentinels would just suddenly burst into her room and take her wherever they take Deviants. To the grave probably.


    "Only power is true sire. Freedom? I would rather live in shackles rather than not living at all. Justice? Fool''s talk. Justice is revenge in a kinder form."


    "Maybe because you have never tasted true freedom and justice at all. Tell me Crystal, have you felt wind against your face? Have you bathed in sunlight too pleasant for words? Have you seen the stars, the moon, the wide world outside the constraints of this mountain?"


    "Poisons for the mind sire. You talk of the outside world as if it is a perfect place. I will not speak about its perfection for I know nothing about it." She looked around, the rock structures meeting her with familiarity. "But this is my world. Ninev. Where the top is not what you call the sky. Where the light comes not from the thing you call the sun. You aim to persuade me with sweet promises. But my opinion remains that freedom is a distraction. Justice, even more so."Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    They turned an alley and slipped past a broken wall. A crawl later and they were in a ruined building. Rubble heaped on what was the structure''s first story. Many structures in Ninev suffered the same rubbling, some due to age while other because of the Resistance''s sabotage.


    The tall structures surrounding the ruin hid the broken rocks. Crystal didn''t even expect seeing a ruin here. Shadow let go of her arm though it was too late to run now. Too dangerous, as her eyes scanned the Sentinels.


    Shadow cleared an area of stones. Beneath was what seemed to be a passage on the ground. He pulled the cover and the whole passage was revealed.


    They went down. The stony stairs were smooth. Lamps illuminated their long descent. The path broke into several directions and it felt like a maze. It was indeed a maze.


    "I bet you are committing the way down to your memory." Shadow said.


    "As what a captive should do."


    "You are not our captive Crystal. A guest."


    "A guest tied and stripped of use of gift?"


    "A dangerous guest. You must understand that your gift is lethal."


    The stairs ended in a wooden door after descending for a long time. Crystal could barely believe that a tunnel system as complex as this rested below Ninev.


    Shadow tapped his cane on the door, the rhythm was apparently a code. An aged man opened. His silky robe dropped to his ankles. On his neck hung a necklace not of the red stone but of gold.


    "She''s a Deviant?"


    "And apparently a Councilor. She got the position today." Shadow nudged her inside. The room, or rather hall, was gigantic. The ceiling was a dome three stories high, paned with glasses. Round tables draped with red cloths arranged in one side, seats carved from wood prepared around them. The floor itself was also made of slick wood planks. Crystal had never seen such an amount of wood in one place.


    It smelled nice, something sweet and juicy wafted in her nose. She guessed it was the candles in the glass chandeliers. As if drawn to beauty, she walk deeper. There were drawings hung on the side with colors she didn''t knew existed. The things in there were strange. Crystal stopped and stared at one of the drawings.


    "The battle of Khirman Plains." Shadow said. "It was the last battle between Wismar and the Union. I was there that day. You see those men?" He pointed at men on top of beasts bearing spears. "The charge of the Rooster Legion broke the Wismarines."


    "And those spiky things below are weapons?"


    "Grasses. Hardly a weapon though they can be irritating sometimes. They cover a large portion of the land outside, growing without stop. Horses, goats and other beasts devour them though thank the Omniscient for that."


    "Horses?"


    "Those beasts the men are riding. They are like our beasts though they are different. More... well, horsey."


    "So these horses eat food readily growing from the ground? Forgive my doubts but that is absurd."


    "Right? I also thought so. How can they be so blessed? We struggle growing our food but their food just sprouts from the ground like nothing."


    Crystal caressed the drawing. It was rough to her fingers and not painted with charcoal but with some thick substance. "I know what you are doing. Showing me this grandness. Grasses. Horses. Everything here. Are these things supposed to entice me in turning into a traitor too?"


    "The tongue has sharpened I see."


    "Seeing that my lies wouldn''t get past your learned ears, I think honesty would be best."


    Shadow led her to a table where that robed man sat beside. The Sentinels remained outside and she wondered if she could threaten the two old men.


    Crystal abandoned the thought. That wouldn''t be wise. Shadow was not a fool to lower his guard. There must be a trap somewhere.


    "This is Escanor" Shadow introduced the man in robe, patting Escanor''s back.


    "A commoner''s name." Crystal said.


    "A human''s name. Escanor is not one of us. But his elusiveness in a gift enough." Shadow said.


    Escanor opened his palm to her. There were rings in each of his fingers, all made of gold. "Shake my hand."


    "Shake your hand?"


    "A custom we have. I can see how this seems odd to you. But it is a form of courtesy."


    If only I am here for courtesy. And my hands are tied. Would they risk letting me go for the sake of some strange custom?


    The bite of the string on her wrist loosened. She looked back and Shadow had cut her loose. Crystal blinked a few times before realizing that she can now use her gift.


    She jumped away and aimed both palms toward Escanor and Shadow. The smoke coiled and turned into iron spikes. They hovered in the air, listening to her will. A single command would propel the spikes toward the two.


    "Let me out" Crystal demanded, easing back. "Let me out or these spikes would tatter your bodies."


    Escanor leaned back. "I told you this would happen Shadow."


    Shadow slung his foot on the table. He removed his hat, laying it gently. He pointed his cane at her. "Now that is bad manners Crystal. Bad manners. We invite you into this lovely place and you bare your gift against us."


    "Please. I just want to go back."


    Shadow snapped his finger. Slowly, figures of people appeared all of a sudden. They wore strange outfits. The females were in long blooming skirts of colors and the males were in buttoned coats. They were chatting, eating. Some were dancing with the music. Music. Crystal looked beyond the open space where the people danced. Instruments of strings were being played. The music was delicate- refined- unlike the music she knew.


    Everyone disregarded the three of them as if they were air. As if this was a dream. Crystal flinched when a dancing couple passed through her as if she was smoke. Coldness crept to Crystal''s spine. Dreamweaver. This is a Dreamweaver''s gift. The tunnel, the Sentinels, the paintings, this hall- all lies. Deceits.


    She sat back. Strangely she was calmer now. "Since when?"


    "Since that alley. Breeze didn''t knock you out. It was a Dreamweaver''s dust." Shadow said.


    "Let me out."


    "Soon. Dusts cannot last forever. And we need to talk first."


    "What do you want from me? Really?" Her head drooped. "I am a Deviant, yes I admit that. But I cannot help you. I am not even a Councilor yet."


    Shadow spread his arms, cane held by his right. "You know what this is Crystal? This is a memory. Mine. This place is the Grand Hall of Holm and this happening right now is a ball. The humans have too much that we don''t and I want our people to experience this too. There are too many things our people lack, too much beauty missed. I want to rescue them from ignorance, from darkness, from the shadows."


    "Many have dreamed of that. But the Grand Consul is too powerful. He controls everything. The only way to live is to follow his rules. What do you want me to do anyway?"


    "Information." Shadow slid a red stone on the table. "The red stone mines had long been an area we lack information about. You are to become Marble''s assistant. We want you to be our eyes."


    "Execution awaits me if I do that."


    "Execution awaits you if you don''t. Your secret of being a Deviant means death. Once my father had been lenient toward me but he doesn''t look kindly on Deviants now. Only we know about your secret and one word from us would reveal it. You mean to attain rank but even of you become one of the Fifteen, it wouldn''t matter. The Grand Consul would execute you anyway."


    Perfect. She was doomed. Trapped. They had her. Her dream of pulling herself on top of the Council was now shattered. She was to become a traitor. It was not that loyalty is pulling her down. She didn''t fancy being loyal to anything except to herself. But being a part of the Resistance was an ugly situation, far more dangerous than what she was comfortable with. Nevertheless her being a Deviant, as what Shadow said, meant certain death.


    "Nod if you agree." Shadow said as cover to her silence.


    Crystal nodded weakly. "I will be your little spy."


    "Don''t look so gloomy. You will not get caught. Breeze will be guarding you from harm. Always."


    "Or watching me."


    "True. We can''t have you betraying us or lazing around or lying."


    "I agreed. You should at least let me out of here now."


    "Before that..." Escanor slid a book on her side of the table. The dark cover was etched with marks unfamiliar to her. "The monarchs of the Union want you to have this. A present. You''ll find a physical copy once you''ve awaken from this dream."


    Crystal flipped the cover. The language was strange. "I can''t read human language." She slid the book back.


    "We have similar language and writing. Both written and verbal." Escanor paused. "Strangely. Anyway, this is a journal of someone named Ashkara. One of your kind. The monarchs of the Union have been trying to translate it for two decades. And so we are providing a copy to every member of the Resistance."


    Great. A membership badge. Just great.


    Crystal let the journal sat atop the table. "What else?"


    "We are finished actually." Shadow said. "You want to wake up or would you like to stay here a little longer?"


    The place seemed nice. She cannot blame Shadow for wishing that one day the Ninevans would experience the splendid world outside. Watching handsome men in fine clothes and beautiful women in dresses dance, chat and eat- the bleakness of Ninev was highlighted.


    But whatever Ninev is, was her world. Here the Grand Consul reigned supreme. The Resistance were fools for thinking that they could stand against the Council. Soon they would all die and she with them.


    No. She wouldn''t die. She would find a way like always. And this beauty Shadow has shown her was a distraction.


    "Return me." Crystal said. "Now"


    Shadow smiled and Shadow snapped. Everything was dark until she opened her eyes. She was back in that dark alley again, slumped on the side.


    Was it all a dream? Did she just slipped and hit her head? She hoped that was the case.


    But the book on her lap told of a different story. Crystal rested her head. It had been a tiring day.

 Leo III

    Hilo is a village at the foot of the Labrose Mountain. I have been looking for a guide all day but the people here are a scaredly bunch. Peleva is cursed they say. They may be right. Cursed. I may be the one who is crazy. But I must reach it. To uncover secrets is my duty. My purpose.


    <hr>


    "What do you think I should do?" Leo asked the beached corpse.


    Leo huddled, arms around his knees. The waves swayed the corpse''s hair. The smell was far from nice. Putrid. Rancid. Foul. Decaying. He soon ran out of words for description. There was no describing it anyway. It was just too vile.


    He was a man, the corpse. Was. Now it was a bag of bloated meat. The face was too swollen for recognition. Bits of decaying flesh tangled and dripped. One of the eyes was missing.


    Leo thought of burying the man. Nobody should have their body exposed like this. His father always told him that corpses needed to be buried for decency, even enemies. The man wasn''t an enemy. He was a passenger of that galley like Leo.


    But Leo found hauling the bloated thing distasteful. His spine tingled just thinking of the texture. And the smell. A few paces away and the smell was already overpowering.


    And so he sat, cold sand under his butt and downing sun to his front. The corpse remained untouched. He sighed.


    "I shouldn''t have left." He said, a statement he had repeated dozens of times already. "I am the heir of the Union. And the Union has grip over all the human kingdoms. It was possible for me to become the king of all humans. But now?" He blew a chuckle. "I shouldn''t have left. Worst decision I made. I would have been sitting my butt in the palace right now, doing things of pleasure. But this is alright. I will find a way."


    The corpse just stared at him through open eyes. Leo made a note of prodding the eyelid close later with some stick.


    His stomach grumbled, an awkward thing to happen beside a bag of meat. Thankfully nobody else was around to falsely judge him of having wild thoughts regarding the corpse.


    He laid on the sand, arms as pillow. The sky was dimming, the stars hinting their twinkles. Waves pushed against his feet. It was getting cold. Pehaps he should make a fire. But he didn''t know how to. He had seen his father''s soldiers rub stones and sticks together. Maybe sand would work?


    In the end he just let the day ebb into night. The stars were indeed bright and so was the moon. His stomach still protested. That meal of hard tack earlier was interrupted by the storm after all. He didn''t know if he should be glad or not. Hard tack, after all, was stone aspiring to be bread.


    Perhaps he should find food? But where? There was nothing except...He stopped the thought, irritated that it blossomed in the first place.


    Use you mind out there, his father''s words. As if using his mind would snap food into existence. If it were that easy then he would have used his mind to get a flagon on mead. But no. He was hungry, wet and isolated. He didn''t have anything with him except the dagger and that stupid journal.


    He felt the journal in his pocket. The thing was damp but not wet. Good for it to survive when even humans didn''t. Maybe he could find a village and sell the journal as an artifact? He was blabbering nonsense. There was no village. He was stuck here and would very soon be dead. Just like the corpse.


    Well this wasn''t so bad. The Omniscient saw it fit to test his spirit. It was a journey, the one he wished for. A little too different and bleak but he should be alright. He should be. The stars were blinking to his adventure. They must be excited being witnesses to his fate. A shipwrecked prince who became... well something. Taverns would offer discounts to his honor. The bards would swell their throats in singing songs about him. His father would be proud. His mother would be joyful. He would brag to Theo about his adventures.


    This isn''t so bad.


    Tears skidded down his temples. Crying? He was crying? Why? He had what he wished for. Adventure. An opportunity to flutter his name. No. This cannot be. This wasn''t so bad. He would conquer everything in his path and come back a hero. Nothing could stop him.


    Lies. Pitiful lies. His tears continued to stream.


    He was afraid. He didn''t know what to do. Adventure? This wasn''t an adventure. Adventures were supposed to be heroic. There was nothing heroic about getting stuck in a beach with a rotting corpse for company. Heir to Union and can''t even bury a corpse. Was he a joke? Perhaps.


    He wiped his tears and just shut his eyes. Maybe he should just give up. That would be easy. Giving up. He could already feel his glee. He wondered what would his father do if put in his place? Or his mother? Helpless. Being helpless was a cruel feeling. Those two had never felt helpless before. They always had a plan- an escape.


    Well maybe not always like what happened that night twelve years ago. The scenes were still fresh as if it was yesterday. The stark smell of blood still pinched his nostrils.


    His father was standing in front of him, arm limp to a gashing wound. His fine night garments were shredded and bloody. And yet his father still held a kitchen knife.


    His mother was clutching little Theo and him. She was barely conscious yet she gripped them tightly. He remembered a carriage. Yes they were in a carriage and were about to visit his grandfather''s grave when the assassins attacked.


    Dozens of the assassins were sprawled bleeding and dead on the ground, one he saw was his father''s doing. The royal guards were thinned by five Ice Thrower Ninevans.


    He wondered what his parents thought that night. His father- standing against Ninevans who want them dead with a small knife in his hand. And his mother- hit to barely conscious by a Stone Thrower Ninevan and yet still clutching them.


    He might never know. But if they defended him with grit, if they were willing to sacrifice themselves for him, then why would he give up now? His father''s wound remained a scar. It would be an insult to them if he would laze into his death. Gone was the colorful adventure he hoped for. Gone was the galley and gone were his things. But he must at least go home. For them.


    Leo sat. The night was deep and the tide had retreated. The corpse was still stanching.


    He dug. With his cold hands he dug. Every handful of sand made the hole deeper. The coarse sand bit on his skin. He was probably wounded. He didn''t stop. Waist deep and length of a full grown man, he aimed.


    He dragged the corpse into the hole. The soft flesh shed with every heave. It was moist and foul and unpleasant.


    "May the Omniscient lead you to an pleasant rest." He said to the corpse.


    The grave was shallow but it was all he could do. He covered it with sand. There was nothing he could use for a tombstone and so he just left it out.


    A grave without a mark. Poor guy.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    He washed his hand with the ocean. The smell lingered though it was tamer. He lay on a flat portion of the sand and drifted to a slumber not long after. Tomorrow he would f trek to wherever his feet would take him, hopefully home eventually. That night, he didn''t dream.


    Dawn offered a different view. The sea was calm, far from that ravaging storm which sank the galley. Pelicans and falcons dived for fish, their squawks gentle to the ears. The fine pinkish sand presented an prettier scene than the coarse dark of Holm. Maybe he could take a pinch as souvenir?


    A forest surrounded the beach. Palms and bamboos thrived here. The way out was through the forest and he hoped the trek wouldn''t starve or dehydrate him to death.


    His boots and clothes were now dry though a little sandy for his liking. He pulled the dagger from its sheath. Steel. Good kind according to what his father taught him. He sheathed and hung it on his waist.


    A strong breeze from the ocean blew to him, ruffling his hair. It was as if to push him forward, to nod him into continuing. He did. Each step further into the forest dimmed surrounding. Tall canopies hid the sunlight. There were critters and bugs and whatever was flitting in tall vegetation.


    The grasses brushed against his legs. If not for his trouser he believed that the blades would cut his legs. He waddled in it, sometimes tangling.


    He remembered being brought by his father in a forest once. It was just the two of them then but he believed that the royal guards were watching not far. They stayed for two days and those two days were truly rough. It rained and their simple leaves tent dripped. The bugs feasted on his skin, the blisters itched him without end. But it was fun. They speared a boar and cooked it after.


    There wasn''t a boar in this forest. The bugs and critters were aplenty but he wouldn''t eat those things. No. Never.


    The mud swallowed Leo''s boots up to the heel. Walking had become a burden with every step a great effort. His sense of direction vanished long ago after his hundred step. He just slipped through gaps in the bamboo. Sometimes the effort would require him to climb.


    He stepped on a small serpent. It hissed when it bit his leg. Leo grabbed its body and pulled it away. It slithered after it fell, flitting away to the thick bamboos. Green. All he could remember is that it was green.


    Leo knelt. He inspected the wound. It didn''t hurt though it probably would soon enough. Two holes were left where the snake punctured its fangs. He hoped that the oozing clear liquid wasn''t venom.


    Fear flooded him, an unwelcomed deluge. The skin around the wound seemed to burn now, a warm feeling though not pleasant.


    The snake wasn''t venomous. And if it was then he would be alright nonetheless. He would find help. Soon. Yes, soon.


    He continued with a limp. Sweat bathed his face after a while. The itches from bug bites and touch of sharp bushes were too blatant to ignore. Thorns also scrubbed against him arms and face. His mother would be shocked if she saw Leo right now.


    It went on. The forest seemed to get thicker with every step. He lost his way. No, he was lost in the first place. And so he just trudged to directions unknown. He didn''t even know if he was going in circles.


    The bamboos were dancing. Hard to believe but they were. His legs turned numb and so did his neck- especially his neck. Sweat trickled down to his chin as he resumed his trudge.


    No, no, he thought. Exhaustion and dehydration, nothing more. That serpent wasn''t venomous.


    He held firm to the belief. But the hazy forest, the swaying bamboos, the limpness- they all lead to a frightening conclusion. Leo hastened. He was almost running now. He should be wounded, battered by the vegetation. And yet he just kept on running.


    Use your mind, he remembered his father''s advice again. He halted- legs aching, breaths short but mind thinking.


    I was bitten by a snake and yes it is venomous. I am hungry and thirsty. And I am lost.


    Water should take priority and then food. He cannot do anything about the venom. Water. He could climb up one of the palm trees and look for a nearby stream. No, he shouldn''t do that. Or rather his injured body couldn''t do that.


    He stilled, closed his eyes and listened for any slosh which may indicate a nearby stream. He only heard the distant squawks of birds and the gentle rustles of the wind.


    Wind. Leo opened his eyes. There was indeed wind, too faint for notice but it was there, blowing from his right. Trees and bamboos block wind. If he was in the middle of the forest then the air should be still. But there was wind which meant that an open space is nearby.


    He looked to the right. His feet moved before he could even make a sound decision. He knew this was the way. The edge of the forest was nearby.


    The wind grew bolder. He kept moving but not running. His ears caught a sloshing sound. It must be a stream. The good thing was that it was coming from the direction he was heading to.


    Calm. You must remain calm, he told himself. Use your mind as what your father said. Because it works.


    The bamboos grew sparse. To his front he saw the sparkles of a stream. The final step was a strange feeling. Triumph and pride concocted into one. He did it, a humble achievement but he found the edge.


    A small stream winded next to the forest. On the other side was a plain covered in tall grasses. The best thing was that there was a dirt road wide enough for a carriage. It wasn''t a farmer''s trail or something. It was a main road utilized by many. He could get help.


    Leo scooped water into his mouth. The water was murky and had bits of soil but never had water tasted so good. It trickled down his throat, the sensation was divine. He gasped and grinned. He felt alive. Hungry, bitten by a snake, still lost- but at least his thirst was gone.


    Footsteps on the rock alerted Leo. Two men stood a few dozen paces from him. One was shorter than other but also had thicker arms. He wore a torn gambeson armor too small for his body. His face was tattooed with some red paint.


    The taller man was the same although this one had his red hair tumbling down to his shoulder. He had a scrawny face too thin to be called handsome.


    "Lucky eh? I don''t see no identification on his neck." The scrawny one grinned, yellow teeth showing. "Ain''t we lucky? One more in the bag."


    "Aye but he''s armed." The shorter one said. "Dagger."


    The scrawny man stepped forward and drew his axe. "He looks tired. Look at him, all sweaty and red. Throw ya dagger lad and surrender."


    Great. Bandits. Or worse.


    Leo eyed his dagger. Abraham taught him how to use it. In fact, he was good with it. But the tongue was a far more deadlier weapon than a blade as what his father said.


    He drew the dagger but held it lightly, not pointing at the bandits. He smiled. "You lads are in bad luck. What do you know about the Great Wail?"


    "Drop ya dagger boy. This ain''t-"


    "The Great Wail is a disease. Nasty stuff. Contagious with the slightest touch. Aye." He pointed his dagger at the scrawny one. "A fortnight ago and this man came into our village. Tall man like you, ugly though unlike you. He begged us for help, crawled to us with blistered skin. Oh I don''t want to remember what those blisters look like but it just got stuck in my mind. Horrid. Just horrid. His skin was rotting and those blisters have pus with worms. Even his eyes have blisters. We tended to him, cleaning his wounds. I tell ya, that wasn''t very helpful. The bastard died the next day, wailing of course. That, my friends, is the Great Wail."


    "Where are ya from? I heard no tale like that! Liar." The stout one said.


    It was good news. The bandit was accusing him of lying. But accusations themselves were proof of little belief. Both men were not attacking because they were entranced by Leo''s tale, believing it a little though they deny it. The belief sprouted not from his tale but from his voice and his stance. His father was probably the most charismatic person in the world. How could he, the son of King Timothy Castonia, fail to inherit even a pinch of that charisma?


    Leo shook his head. "Our village chief caught it first. Good man he was. He began blistering all over his body and was dead three days later. The others caught it too. Children, the old, the strong, nobody was spared. Even my wife. Her name was Oliva. Good woman, pretty, kind. I fought three other suitors for her hand. Well Oliva died and I was there when it happened, kneeling beside our bed." He fell a tear but resumed his grin. "Oh you don''t know how it felt hearing her beg for death. Her pretty face melted with the blisters. Worms feasted despite her still being alive. She wailed and wailed and wailed! Oh it was sound I never want to hear again. My dear Oliva wailing to death in front of me. And our child. Our child was still in her belly. I don''t know what happened to our child. He or she died I''m sure. Perhaps eaten by worms while Oliva was wailing."


    The stout man nodded slowly. "That is tough."


    "Aye." The taller one said, lowering his axe. "Better it would be if it was only his wife. But unborn child? I know how it be feeling Mister. Crushing. Me first wife''s first pregnancy ended in-"


    "You must catch it too" Leo said, eyes wide. "Oliva had it. I have it. You two should also wail" He spread his arms. "Ha! Come to me friends!"


    Leo stepped forward. The two flinched. Of course they did. He would flinch too if he was them.


    "Crazy bastard! Get away from us!" The stout man shouted.


    The tall one threw a stone at him. "Get away!"


    They were about to run- to break. Leo could feel it. A look on their trembling legs revealed their fear. Leo did not stop. The bandits would soon run away.


    Everything swayed all of a sudden. The bandits looked blurry as they threw stones at him. His body felt heavy. His walk sagged.


    It was venomous after all, Leo though. Damn that serpent.


    He fell and rolled. His breaths were short and his chest felt hard. The bandits were approaching him cautiously.


    Use your mind, his father''s advice again rang.


    No, Father. Just no. I can''t use my mind to escape this one, can I?