《Starlight Assassin》


 1-1 Linear Hook

    The Wiscith family rose to fame during the plague of 231. After the early demise of King James the second, who had sired no heirs, Veren Wiscith took over the throne and immediately wiped out both the foreign threat from the Antralis and internal threat of the plague. The family stayed on the throne for 400 years from then, until 617, when Glenn Wiscith refused the crown and instead became the earl of the now named Wiscith hills and the surrounding area. The Wiscith name was still a highly esteemed name, held with the same regard as the new ruling family, the Erisctyes. In 893, Grazer Wiscith and his children and wife perished in a fire that consumed half the castle of Redstone, putting an end to the once royal bloodline.


    It was about 9 when the bell tower rang. Once, then twice.


    I grinded my teeth as I waited for it to ring a third time. It didn¡¯t. Thrice indicated a curfew to be enforced immediately, while twice meant a fire. And I hated fires, even though I wasn¡¯t involved in this one.


    The weary silence it caused was soon replaced by drunk banter and chatter downstairs in the inn. The usual customers always went crazy on nights like these. My room was across the stairs on the first floor, and the noise was easy to make out. Almost harmonious.


    The door to my room was bolted shut, and I had a cupboard leaning on it to help it stay that way. My window on the other hand was open; my room still needed a way out. I fastened the dagger in my sheath again, ran my fingers through my hair and put on the hood off my cloak, tucked my timepiece under my shirt after glancing at it one last time.


    I put my hands on the windowsill, shoving myself through it. My feet made a few thuds as I slid and hopped slowly on the slanting roof; my hands tightly grasped the edge before I lowered myself into the stack of hay I had Charles put there for me. It was hardly as soft as I thought it would be.


    I sneaked past a few alleys, my hand trailing coarse brick as I turned the corner. Sam stood leaning on the wall, his fingers in his pant pockets. He was wearing a cloak similar to the black one I had, and his hood was up as well. Sam was my companion on these escapades; I liked him because he was quick with his hands and bright with his head. We were very similar in some ways; an utter lack of regard for the law and our common age of 17 founding the basis for our relationship.


    He raised his head as he saw me, and we walked towards each other. I nodded at him.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think the bell would actually ring,¡± he said, bumping into me as he finished. I felt his hand sneak into my cloak and feel my shirt, but he was already halfway across the street when I swung around to reply. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    It was our sort of a greeting; he would try to steal my purse, and I would let him. Practise for him, experience for me. He hadn¡¯t succeeded even once yet, but that was mostly because I didn¡¯t keep my money in a purse.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go. I don¡¯t know where the fire is, but it probably got some of the guards away.¡± I expected him to ask questions i didn¡¯t want to answer just yet; like how I had known the bell would ring today, or why I had called him here today. He raised his eyebrow, but just gestured for me to lead the way. I was glad he trusted me enough to follow without asking questions.


    We tried to walk cautiously, clinging to the walls and looking over our shoulders. I don¡¯t know if we did well, but we managed to move without coming across any trouble.


    The castle, where we were headed now, was right in the centre of the city. Most of guards were probably distracted with the bell tower that had rung every minute the past half hour, but we were still on guard as we approached our destination. Soon we got close enough to catch a glimpse of some guards patrolling the perimeter of the castle. I nudged Sam towards a low hanging balcony of a small squarish house; we helped each other up and then climbed again, to reach the house¡¯s roof. We sat down, Sam hugging his knees and me with my legs sprawled out.


    The castle looked like a castle. Majestic; old, but still strong and study; surrounded by gardens and then a wall. There were guards positioned at both gates leading inside, along with guards inside the garden and other patrolling. The fire hadn¡¯t dwindled their numbers as much as I thought it had, and I wondered if that oversight was going to get me killed.


    ¡°Planning on dying in the dungeons, are we?¡± Sam said, his voice as nonchalant as it could be.


    I didn¡¯t reply. The wind was fairly strong tonight, and I like the way it felt on my hand.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll join you on your trip down there,¡± he added.


    ¡°I¡¯m not even trying to get into there. I¡¯m aiming for the kitchen, over there. You gotta trust me, Sam.¡± The kitchen was outside the castle, and while still only a stone¡¯s throw from the front gate, I had always wondered why they had placed it outside. It just felt like a goldmine of security loopholes any common thug could exploit.


    Sam laughed.


    ¡°Tell me why we¡¯re here and I¡¯ll do my best to try.¡± He stared at my face, his eyes squinting, searching for anything I might give away.


    ¡°Selicia...¡± I could already see the disappointment in his face as I bought it up. He opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. ¡°I just want to catch her attention,¡± I said, ¡°trust me, Sam. We can just act like we were trying to steal food if we get caught, and they might even give us a bun or two if you cry enough.¡± We did look like poor starved orphans.


    Sam was usually very polite around money, despite his profession, but I knew he hadn¡¯t caught any purses recently.


    ¡°Not the princess again¡­¡± He started. I ignored him, and took off my shoe; I slid my hand inside, and took out a gold coin. The coin glinted in the moonlight, and so did his eyes.


    He grinned.


    Hungry people are always easy to deal with.

 1-2 Linear Hook

    We climbed down to the street and made our way to the royal kitchen. It was big, with two storeys and about a dozen chimneys poking out of it. There were also guards at the front; I guessed nobody was allowed outside or inside, except the supplies and ingredients they must have need, along with the food that was needed to be taken inside the castle. Sam and me skipped backwards along the path; we guessed around some turns and corners, and managed to find ourselves in the alley next to the kitchen.


    It was quiet. We crouched next to the sidedoor. I kept my ears focused; keeping track of the footsteps of the guards in front of the alley a dozen paces away. Lamp-light shone through the curtains draped about the window, outlining the moving silhouettes of someone inside. There was a door leading in next to us, but it had a large bronze lock on it.


    ¡°Can you get that lock open?¡± I whispered, and he nodded.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m here for, right.¡±


    I tried not to notice the doubt clouding over his smile.


    I moved over and crouched over in front of the door. Sam took out his lock picks and fiddled with the lock; I had no idea how lockpicking worked, but I sure hoped he did. If the guards saw us now, we had no choice but to run for it; I didn¡¯t trust Sam¡¯s feet as much as I did his hands.


    I stayed waiting. My hands were sweaty; I could feel my blood rushing through my body and warming it up. The excitement I was feeling was overwhelming; I hoped I was able to think properly through it. It wasn¡¯t after long when I heard a pronounced click from the lock, and I turned to see Sam gesture towards the door. He began to open the door, but I grabbed his arm and slowed him down. I peeked through the small gap, relieved to see that no one was in view and that the door didn¡¯t make any awkward creaking sounds. We sneaked inside, trying to use the chairs and tables as cover.


    The place was filled with dark iron stoves and chutes leading to the chimneys. Cupboards and containers lined the walls while tables filled the rest of the space. Plates were covered with silver domes; fresh produce covered with cloth and meat hung in a corner; utensils and cooking pans lying in a large wash basin, and there I saw a couple of women washing them.


    A chill ran down my spine. I looked at Sam and noticed that his eyes were as sharp as and focused too on the women. There didn¡¯t seem to be anybody else in here. The bell had either worked well as a distraction or maybe everybody had gone to the castle to deliver dinner? Something felt wrong, but I did think I was pretty lucky.


    I spotted a wooden staircase to our right, which was in in the adjacent corner to the women. I had a feeling there was something of value upstairs, and Sam lead the way. He was as silent as a cat; I could barely hear him breath. My footsteps weren¡¯t near as silent as his, but the slow pace at which I moved seemed to make up for it.


    We moved up the staircase, and I think I caught one of their eyes when I turned over the corner from the last step. I didn¡¯t stop to check.


    There were cupboards in the rooms here too. I opened one to find bowls, napkins, and spoons; and turned around to see Sam do the same. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    There was a small bag of silver coins, which I quickly took. He didn¡¯t seem to mind; I was planning to share at the end anyway. I adjusted my cloak and turned to him, my eyes still on the stairs.


    ¡°Don¡¯t overreact, but-¡± I started, with a tone that might have sounded too patronizing.


    ¡°Cut the crap,¡± He said.


    I took out a glass vial from under my cloak and waved it in his face. He must have taken some time to take in this new information; he slumped towards the wall and gave out a long sigh.


    ¡°You¡¯re not surprised?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I thought you would ask me to sneak in,¡± he said, rubbing his eyes, ¡°Let¡¯s do it then. A royal assassination, huh? Funny as it may be, it¡¯s hardly the worst thing you¡¯ve mentioned.¡±


    I nodded.


    The two women downstairs still weighed heavily on my mind. I walked towards the stairs, but Sam didn¡¯t move an inch towards me.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re doing this for her, though? That¡¯s¡­¡± he said, eyebrows furrowed, ¡° well, another coin wouldn¡¯t hurt.¡± I chucked a coin at him, and he fumbled for it; I should have thought of the noise it would have made if it did hit the ground. I had just come into possession of a respectable amount of money, even if it didn¡¯t amount to more than 10 gold; I guess that was still enough reason to not think rationally.


    We crept downstairs, only to find that there was nobody there. I checked the plates with the silver domes on them; they had dishes ready to serve. I started carefully dropping a small amount into each. Sam mentioned assassination, but this was just going to loosen their bowels and give them a really bad fever. I didn¡¯t want to be responsible for somebody¡¯s death, and even though this could severely hurt somebody if they were of a very weak composition, I had no doubt there were dozens of alchemists waiting to dote on the royal family.


    Sam had been quiet, even though we were the only people in the building. Everything was a bit too convenient. I continued to fill the plates with the concoction I had managed to obtain from Raz.


    I was on the last plate, and I turned to look at Sam; but he wasn¡¯t here. Had he ditched me? The door was slightly ajar, and I realized that that prideful and principled piece of shit would not have approved of my actions. Why was someone like him a pickpocket?


    I heard the two women beside the kitchen in the alley, eerily close to the door he had used. I heard a sword clang on chainmail, and I knew then that they had guards with them. We hadn¡¯t sneaked past them, not at all. MAybe they stood there afraid, aware of our presence, and then left for help as we went upstairs.


    I ran to the front door and wrestled with the knob, but it didn¡¯t budge. I heard the door creak open in the back, and I got on my knees and crawled between two stoves near me. They felt warm; I hugged my knees and stuffed as much of myself as I could into the gap. I tugged my hood on.


    ¡°I saw the two of them around there. Can you go upstairs and check?¡± One of the women said. I assumed she had pointed somewhere when she said it; I was curious to know exactly where she had seen us, but it didn¡¯t feel like the right time to ask.


    I heard some footsteps in my direction, and I tucked the vial below the stove. I wondered if they would believe that the green concoction in each of the plates was my spit; I didn¡¯t want to be punished for attempting to poison the king when i was just trying to make his day reasonably bad.


    I didn¡¯t think I could fight a man in armor and win; worse yet, I just didn¡¯t see how i could manage to not get caught. Running was out of the question; I was faster than the average person, but these soldiers really weren¡¯t not trained to be normal.


    My lack of motivation and conviction got me in the end. Maybe if I really wanted to do this, I could have thought about a way to get out of this situation.


    The footsteps drew closer; I tried my darndest to lay as still as I could.


    It wasn¡¯t enough.

 1-3 Linear Hook

    The dungeons.


    It was underground, with a couple of very long corridors with rooms filling either side of them. There wasn¡¯t anybody in the rooms next to me; or if somebody was, they were very quiet. The walls were cold, damp. It didn¡¯t smell too bad; or maybe I had just gotten used to it.


    There was only one door in the room they had shut me up in, and the only window I had was the square opening on the thick wooden door, blocked with metal bars. The stone walls were cold and damp. It was dark; light barely made into here, flickering at times. They delivered food once a day; though I barely ate any. Moist and stale bread; soup with too much water and too less salt; the water was nice, but they barely gave any and when they did, it was in a dirty glass nobody had bothered to clean. It was everything I expected from this place, and less.


    But in the dungeons, the greatest adversary to your sanity is your mind.


    I spent the first three days justifying my actions in my head; believing that Raz or even Sam would come for me; that they would succeed, and we would end this hellish fuck-up of mine with some drinks at the inn. I truly believed they could get me out of this place.


    I couldn¡¯t sleep at night. The mornings, when I could just barely make out the footsteps of the guards patrolling, had me sleep a little, but just not as much as I needed to.


    I didn¡¯t think I would regret this as much as I did. I wished I had a better reason for all of this; that I hadn¡¯t just done it for some girl. Even if i had really just done it because I had nothing else to do.


    I would rather get locked up for something I truly wanted.


    It was some time in the second week when the door opened for me. I was sleeping on my side, my knees curled up onto my chest; my gaze fixed to the ground. I didn¡¯t know if this was my mind playing tricks on me. It was scary, not being to trust what you see and hear.


    The visitor was a Rwedar. The member a legendary group made of genius swordsman or other esteemed warriors and scholars. Sworn to serve till death in the name of the people, supported by the crown though not restricted by it. Everybody with a decent head has probably heard of them; half the old men in the city told stories about them.


    I could tell he was one because his armor was made of polished iron; it was divided into numerous sections at his joints. It had the Rwedar coat of arms on the chestplate, which didn¡¯t look all that different from the royal coat of arms, and he wore a smooth circular helmet, with a painted visor that covered his eyes. The armor looked sharp in places, and glinted like no coin I had ever seen. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    He stood there for a while, then helped me to my feet and twisted both my arms behind me. I winced, but didn¡¯t complain. The pain felt good, and it was nice to see another person, even if I couldn¡¯t see any of him past his armor.


    He lead the way, pushing me down the corridors and then a flight of stone steps that lead into the sunlight. It blinded my eyes; but we were soon inside the cool expanse of the castle. We headed up some steps, went down some corridors. People paid attention to me; it felt nice after being locked up with no company. We stopped in front a large door, though a lot of doors here were large. He turned his head towards me again. There were sharp but tired brown eyes behind his visor, looking over my face. I could tell he was strong; there was no chance of me getting out if I had to face this man.


    I looked away. He sighed, then lead me in.


    The room was smaller than it had looked from the outside. There was a tall cage in the center of the room. It didn¡¯t look study or well made. There were a few men armed with swords and armor surrounding a large wooden table and the door.


    There were three men sitting at the table, all looking down at me from their high seats. They were draped in rich cloth and each had a book and a pen to write with. The magistrates, I¡¯d guess.


    I had expected only one of them. Three was a bit much, even if I had attempted to poison the royal family. The Rwedar led me into the cage and closed it; I didn¡¯t bother standing up inside.


    ¡°What is your name?¡± asked the magistrate in the middle. He was wearing monocles, carefully looking at me from behind the tip of his long nose. Which name could I give?


    He ignored the silence I offered, and flipped through some pages. One of the other men brushed his moustache and asked ¡°Do you have anything to do with the bloodborn?¡±


    I felt a chill go down my spine when I heard that name, though I didn¡¯t know why.


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± I said, my voice breaking, ¡°I¡­¡±


    They raised their heads and looked at me then. It was different; maybe they noticed how young I was. I knew I looked pitiful after a week down there, but I wondered if i looked any different from the other criminals that find themselves here, even if I was only 15 and looked it.


    ¡°The dung-¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s enough. The-¡±


    ¡°...waste of time,¡±


    They continued murmuring with each other. It was irritating, how these men who barely noticed my existence now had the means to snuff it out. I suspected that no matter what happened, I would either be executed or sent back down there. I didn¡¯t know which was worse.


    The blood rushed to my head, and I felt something snap.


    ¡°My name is Zenaris Wiscith,¡± I said loudly, causing them to stop and stare. The name of a dead prince.

 1-4 Linear Hook ARC END

    They took him back after that. To the dungeons.


    Zenaris Wiscith. A son of the lord of the Wiscith hills and the regions surrounding them. The Wiscith famly was of ancient blood; right next to the Erisctye family, the rulers of Valeris for more than a couple hundred years now, in royalty. Zen¡¯s father and the Kind, Orean, were said to be the closest of friends. Most even joked about the two of them ruling the land together.


    Yet he heard nothing from them after the fire.


    He doesn¡¯t know how it started, but it wasn¡¯t natural. The entire family perished in the fire that ravaged their house; at least almost. He had survived, and he had fled. To Valeris. Everything was lost in a night, save a pouch of gold and his mother¡¯s bracelet. His life on the run had been similar to the one every highborn child had dreamt of, but it wasn''t as easy as he could have imagined. Alone and empty, he had managed to live anyway.


    Wiscith was declared a dead house caused by an accidental fire. Life continued in the great isle with only some gossip and the occasional drunken slander. Nobody would believe him if he told them who he was. Nobody could, to be fair. Maybe the king or his daughter, who had visited many times over the course of his childhood, might recognise him. But it was foolish to hope.


    And Zen found himself in the dungeon.


    His fingers trailed the walls as he walked from corner to corner. His legs ached, but he didn¡¯t stop. His nails made a sound as he scratched them on the stone; they were overgrown. A beard now sprouted from his chin, ragged and spotty. His blue eyes now had just a sliver of their former charm.


    The door opened, making sounds as it lid across the floor. Lenny, a young guard, stood there with a plate and a glass of water. His eyes were a bright contrast to Zen¡¯s; they were sharp, focused. He peered at the young boy that stood in front of him, eyebrows tinged with pity. A lad as young as his own brother, Lenny couldn¡¯t help but sigh at the sight before him. He set down the plate and glass slowly on the floor.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    He looked up see Zen stare at him. His neck turned sharply sideway, his glassy eyes staring in Lenny¡¯s direction. Lenny shuddered, his hand on his blade¡¯s hilt.


    ¡°Boy, you could just tell them about the bloodborn, and we can get you out of here, right? It¡¯s been 4 weeks since you came back down here. This is enough, right?¡± he said, his voice straining.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Zen said, blinking blankly, "is it?


    Lenny didn¡¯t wait to chitchat; he turned towards the door and almost swung it shut, not bothering to wait for a reply. Every criminal down here was willing to conversate with another person; they had been pushed beyond their limits with a sort of isolation that should never exist; but not this one. The guards had talked about him; how he had gone a different route from the others; a silent madness. Lenny had never liked that sort of talk, but there was nothing he could deny.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Zen said.


    ¡°What, boy?¡± Lenny asked, his hand barely managing to stop the door from closing. He inched it open completely, bound by curiousity. Zen¡¯s hand stretched out towards him, weakly clutching the air.


    ¡°Is it okay if I kill you?¡± Zen asked.


    Lenny stared at him. Zen¡¯s hand looked bony, the white of his knuckles showing. He was a feet away, his expression as empty as he had ever seen.


    Lenny forced out a weak laugh. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to try, boy.¡±


    Moments passed, with sound flooding the undeground chambers.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Zen said, blood dripping off his palm, ¡°I needed that push.¡±


    He left the cell, leaving Lenny with a sharp broken metal spoon embedded in his throat. Their eyes didn¡¯t look that different now.


    The spoon had hardly helped Zen.

 2-1 Wearied Distress

    Sam stared at Zen solemnly. Zen had a mug of ale in his hand while he sat on a stool next to the bar. The inn was almost empty except for those two and the barkeep.


    ¡°Are you two always this silent?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a month. Cheer up,¡± Zen said, looking straight ahead.


    ¡°More than two if you count the time you spent in there,¡± Sam said.


    Zen waved over to ask for a refill, chugging down the rest of his drink. He turned away from Sam, now facing the barkeep.


    ¡°Charles, any news?¡±


    Charles frowned.


    ¡°We¡¯re right out of good meat,¡± Charles said, lost in thought.


    Zen sighed. There was no way Charles would let the inn be out of meat.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Raz?¡± said Zen, glancing at Sam.


    ¡°He¡¯s gone to Virien,¡± said Sam, his head now looking downwards,¡°he¡¯s not going to be back for another month.¡±


    Silence filled the room. It didn¡¯t look like any conversation would go past a few replies; Sam just couldn¡¯t act normal about Zen. Neither of them could, and neither of them wanted to. Zen forgave Sam, but he didn¡¯t trust him a single bit anymore. And Sam wanted things to be the exact opposite. He wanted to suffer; to be yelled at, to suffer; and he wanted to be trusted. Charles knew Sam had suffered too while Zen was in there. He had visited the inn every day when Zen was gone, and everyday when Zen was back in here. All because he was riddled with guilt and a conscience that was just harmful for a man of his trade.


    It made for a very tiresome situation, one that Zen had no intention of trying to solve. Zen would have cared about Sam before. But Zen was the one who had changed the most.


    ¡°Sam, can you leave, please?¡±


    Sam got up. ¡°I¡¯ll be back tomorrow.¡± He walked out the door silently, gritting his teeth.


    ¡°He means the best, you know,¡± Charles said, looking over at Zen,¡±You should try getting some sunlight. Breath some fresh air outside this place.¡±


    ¡°Maybe? How long did he say it¡¯s been?¡± Zen stretched out his arms, letting out a yawn. ¡°3 weeks since I came back?¡±


    ¡°Sounds about right.¡±


    Zen leaned towards Charles, his eyes sharper than it had been a few moments ago. He let out a toothy grin, his canines sharp.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Is it time?¡±


    ¡°Strange teeth. Like a vampire.¡± Charles took out a silver coin and flipped it, then caught it with his palm to bring it down to Zen¡¯s arm. ¡°Just checking.¡±


    ¡°The amount of sense that doesn¡¯t make almost made me forget you changed the topic back there,¡± Zen said, shrugging off Charles, ¡°so what¡¯s new?¡±


    Charles sighed. ¡°I promised to tell you if you stayed still then, so slow down.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you would actually tell me,¡± Zen said.


    ¡°That¡¯s not helping your case,¡± Charles said, taking a seat next to Zen. He cleared his throat and slicked his fingers through his blonde hair.


    ¡°I heard about it from some drunk who said he knew about the bloodborn.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t say anything about the bloodborn back then,¡± Zen said.


    ¡°They were just a name then. Would it have changed anything?¡±


    Zen shook his head. ¡°Continue.¡±


    ¡°Like I was saying, there was a man who had a little too much that night. He was a little beat up, but I thought it was just one of those street brawls. He kept swearing about the church, bringing in the bloodborn¡¯s name every now and then. I helped him outside when it was late and he couldn¡¯t stand up on his own, and he thanked me and told me about the bell tower.¡±


    Zen waited for him to continue, but he didn¡¯t.


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Zen said, ¡°You told me it would ring because some drunk thought it would?¡±


    Charles frowned. ¡°I know when somebody is telling the truth. You¡­ I can¡¯t explain it to you. He had the Rwedar insignia on his coat,¡± Charles paused, ¡°One of their soldiers, probably.¡±


    ¡°What about the bloodborn? What happened that night?¡±


    Charles raised his eyebrow.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°I want to hear it from you.¡±


    Charles stood up, brushed off his apron, and returned behind the bar. He stood, polishing a bottle.


    ¡°Group of thugs. Some say they have magic,¡± Charles laughed, then regained his composure.


    ¡°I heard they killed the priest and spilt his blood on the altar.¡±


    Zen¡¯s expression stayed perfectly still, almost as if Charles almost hadn¡¯t said something unbelievable.


    ¡°That archpriest? I saw him call a dragon once," Zen said, eagerly waiting for more. Though nothing was heard after.


    Zen sighed. He knew Charles could say a lot more, but wouldn¡¯t. He was satisfied that he was starting to tell him something, though he was still desperately waiting for the next tidbit of information that he would get.


    ¡°Maybe I should go out somewhere,¡± Zen said, ¡°Where to, though? I¡¯m a wanted criminal now.¡± Zen looked at Charles, only to find him quickly smirking back.


    ¡°Everybody on this side of town is.¡±


    Zen raised his eyebrows at that. It wasn¡¯t the first time Charles had said that, and it felt eerily true. Knell street had a bunch of peculiar shops and it was at the west corner of the city; Farthest from the church and castle, and most places of authority.


    Zen blew upwards, making his long hair sway. It was wavy, almost covering his eyes. He had a bit of a beard too, something he couldn¡¯t get rid of completely without a good blade.


    ¡°I need to do something about my hair. Do you know someone?¡±


    ¡°What about your hair?¡±


    ¡°I want to dye it.¡±


    ¡°What? You¡¯ll just stand out.¡±


    ¡°I already stand out. And I can just go around with my hood on,¡± Zen said.


    Charles let out a long breath. ¡°You know Aunt Hanna. Her sister came to town, she¡¯s a bit of a brewer, I think. She could help.¡±


    Zen got up and walked towards the door, waving at Charles.


    ¡°See you.¡±

 Not a Chapter- Update

    Hello.


    I think I''m finally getting revved up.


    I''ve gone back and edited the second and third chapters, changing a few important but still minor plot details, and I''ve added a small figment of Valeris'' history in the beginning of the first chapter, all after some recommendations i got from a guy online(I don''t know if it''s apporpriate to put his username here, but it''s someone I met on the discord channel for royalroad).This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    To be honest, I''m not exactly satisfied with this so far, but I will try my best to make this something that I can be satisfied with.


    Chapters are now released only on Sundays. I''ll do my best to increase wordcount, and depending on things, I will try releasing an extra chapter every other week too.


    Thanks for reading! Please continue to read this series, because that is all the support I want.

 2-2 Wearied Distress

    The Rwedar was originally founded in 702, to combat the rumoured threat of the nomadic Golion tribes from the east. The original group consisted entirely of swordsmen and mercenaries of the highest order; they were said to have magical abilities, some surpassing those of the ones that the archpriest was said to have possessed. Despite the Golions perishing long before they made it near Valeris¡¯ walls, the Rwedar still continued to operate in the name of the city, occasionally banding together in terms of crisis. In 746, they separated themselves from the authority of the crown, though they still supported the crown and in return, were supported by the crown. Records of their activities after 782 have not been made public, though it is certain that they very much exist to this day and still carry out any duties bestowed upon them by the king.


    Sam stepped out of the inn, raising his head to peek out at all the hustle and bustle in the street. He walked towards a cart placed near the door; his feet gracefully spun around it, his hands sweeping in to return with a bright red apple. He walked further down the road, taking a big bite as he turned around a corner.


    He slumped down, his back resting on the wall. He chewed through the core, and carefully glanced around the corner. The alley he was in didn¡¯t seem very welcoming, and it lead nowhere; it was the best place for someone to keep an eye on the inn. And so he waited, fumbling with his lockpicks to pass the time.


    Sam looked around the corner again, and he saw Zen walking out of the inn. He propped himself up on his feet, and waited till Zen disappeared out of his view before walking back towards the inn.


    He pushed open the door with the flat of his hand, ignoring the curious look of a child who had seen him hide just a few minutes ago. He closed the door behind him, and stared at Charles.


    ¡°Did you tell him?¡± Sam asked, his voice a little louder than he had intended it to be.


    Charles looked tired; he felt sick of dealing with the broken boy that was Zen, and he felt sicker when he looked at Sam trying his hardest for absolutely nothing at all.


    ¡°He went to Hanna¡¯s place,¡± Charles said.


    ¡°Did you tell him?¡± Sam asked again, adamant in his pursuit.


    Charles took a deep breath. ¡°I gave it to him yesterday.¡±


    Sam cursed and cursed under his breath; he had told Charles to hide the letter that princess had attempted to pass onto Zen, even if he knew it was none of his business. Sam didn¡¯t want Zen to get in trouble again, especially when he was still like that. That was why he had been waiting outside the inn ever since the letter came a week ago.


    ¡°He¡¯s not normal anymore. You know he¡¯s not,¡± Sam said, his voice straining.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know that,¡± Charles said, his young face showing a calm sort of weariness that was 20 years too soon for him, ¡°I told you he might not have that. He can... think for himself.¡±


    Sam shook his head, barely managing to keep his calm.


    ¡°I¡¯m going. Aunt Hanna¡¯s place, right?¡±


    And the inn was left empty once again, save the barkeep and an old man dressed in black leather at the back.


    ¡°You told about him about the exchanges?¡± The old man asked.


    Charles had never liked referring to them as ¡®exchanges¡¯. ¡®Curse¡¯ was the term he preferred, even if exchange was the most accurate word to call those supernatural happenings.


    ¡°The other boy, Zen, had it happen. And Sam said he had a dream about it; but he doesn¡¯t know what he got or gave.¡±


    The old man laughed. ¡°They never do.¡±


    ¡°You believe him?¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I? These things are like a bag of fleas in a gutter.¡±The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Contagious?


    Charles lowered his chin and smoothed down his apron for the fifth time in the past hour; he always did it when he was worried about something.


    ¡°Sam¡¯s going to get himself killed.¡±


    ¡°What about the other one? You said he-¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s long gone,¡± Charles said quietly.


    The old man looked up and glanced at Charles, noticing the worry the young man had for Sam. Charles had known Sam for four years, when the inn was first taken over by him. Comparing that to the meagre half year Sam had known Zen, Charles just didn¡¯t want him to get involved in things beyond his understanding only to find himself dead all because of Zen.


    ¡°You¡¯re not old enough to call them ¡®boys¡¯, and they¡¯re aren¡¯t young enough to be called it, either,¡± said the old man.


    <hr>


    Hanna twirled a knife around her finger and raised her arm, holding the knife between her fingers and thumb; she swung downwards, releasing the knife halfway through the rotation. It flew straight through the air without spinning and embedded itself in the thick wooden board Hanna had placed here for this purpose.


    ¡°How did you even do that?¡± Zen asked, watching her, ¡°Do it again.¡±


    Hanna grinned, relishing the attention she was receiving, even if it was from an odd blue-eyed young man.


    ¡°It¡¯s pretty easy, actually,¡± Hanna lied, not mentioning the many years of practise she had with it, ¡°I¡¯m going to do one where the knife spins. Watch.¡±


    She held the knife in the same way as before, but took a step backwards with her left leg and swung down harder than she had to. Zen saw nothing but a wider blur when it went past him, the tip somehow managing to hit the board at an impeccable angle.


    ¡°Can I try?¡± Zen asked, his face still.


    ¡°Uh, sure.¡± Hanna expected him to brighten up suddenly, but he looked deep in thought as he took a knife from her. ¡°You said Charles sent you here, didn¡¯t you? What for?¡±


    ¡°I want to dye my hair. He said your sister could help,¡± Zen said, attention focused on copying the grip Hanna had shown him.


    ¡°He did, didn¡¯t he,¡± Hanna said, twirling her hair around her finger. She got distracted way too easily by that handsome foreigner running the inn down the street.


    Zen swung down, missing the target. The knife scratched the wall right below the board, and tumbled to the floor.


    He glanced at Hanna, and picked up another. This time he swung harder, but the knife didn¡¯t make it far. It struck the ground and dug into it, this time managing to stay there.


    ¡°At least I tried, right?¡± Zen said, then looked at Hanna and shrugged, ¡°I¡¯ll pay for the floor?¡±


    Hanna opened her mouth, preparing some very vulgar vocabulary she had wanted to use for a while, but stopped when she saw him removing hs purse from under his cloak. It looked heavy, and it was. He removed a gold coin from it and threw it to her. She fumbled for it, surprised; as a baker, she didn¡¯t see those many gold coins.


    ¡°Is your sister here?¡± He asked.


    ¡°She¡¯s left town already.¡± She looked at him, only now thinking clearly about how strange he was. She couldn¡¯t put her on it though.


    ¡°Why do you want your hair dyed?¡±


    Then she saw him smile. It was dubiously inapposite..


    ¡°I promised myself once that I would,¡± he said, the smile still on his face.


    ¡°You¡¯re not smiling with your eyes,¡± she noted, now knowing full well that he had only smiled because he thought it was the right time to.


    His face instantly transformed back, but with a slight tinge of disappointment. He then smiled again, but this time with his whole face. Unlike her advice on knife throwing, he had followed this one to the letter.


    ¡°That¡­ looks like the real thing,¡± Hanna said, fighting a sudden desire to gag. It looked so much like a real smile, yet there was something unspeakably wrong about it.


    ¡°I was truly smiling both the times.¡± Zen relaxed a bit. ¡°I think I¡¯ve taken too much of your time. I¡¯ll be going now.¡± It had been about half an hour since he came.


    He walked over to the door and opened, only to find Sam standing very close to the frame. Zen said nothing, and walked away, taking a turn to the right at the nearest alley. Sam followed him, a few paces behind, unsure as always yet still determined.


    ¡°Zen, are you going to meet Selicia?¡± Sam asked.


    Zen turned around.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Zen didn¡¯t bother asking him to leave, because he knew Sam wouldn¡¯t listen to him. He didn¡¯t understand why Sam was this persistent, but he never understood anyone these days.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Sam said, before Zen turned away. Sam walked over to him, bumping into him. His hand snuck into Zen¡¯s cloak, but he didn¡¯t make it far before Zen caught his hand.


    Sam felt something in his hand, and he looked to find a purse. He had never gotten his purse before. He looked at Zen¡¯s face only to find those cold blue eyes looking straight through him. He let go of the purse, giving it to Zen. Zenaris would never have taken it back. He never would have tried to grab his arm.


    Zen walked away, Sam still following behind him.


    Sam''s hands were clenched hard, and it felt like his heart was, too.

 2-3 Wearied Distress

    Sam sat on the pebbled road, leaning towards the wall of an old run-down house. He continued fiddling with his lock picks. He liked sitting down in this part of town; it let him notice the dust in the streets and lock eyes with those who were facing just as bad a situation as he was, if not worse. Old whores and disabled men; children begging in torn down rags with a fire big enough to burn the world inside their eyes; all passing through without any reason but that they had nowhere else to belong.


    Life¡¯s desolation all felt in a single street. He had grown up around here, and it helped at times to know that he wasn¡¯t the only one suffering. Though what he liked the most about the street was the sky. It was near the edge of the city, and all the buildings were small or broke. It was easier to see the sky here. The sky was filled with light fluffy clouds, and the sun shone brightly despite it being a windy day. Such a sharp contrast between the two really compounded this spot as his favourite.


    Though he had no idea why Princess Selicia had chosen to meet here. He felt lucky; he knew every nook and cranny that was worth knowing here. Sam had only met her once, and that was when Zenaris had arrived in this town. He had told Sam all about his family¡¯s death and how he had managed to run from the fire that took his home; and he had also told Sam that he had only known Selicia from a few royal balls and functions. Despite all this, their first meeting had gone well, Zenaris somehow managing to contact her and Selicia somehow managing to come alone to the darkest parts of the city. But they hadn¡¯t met again; they had no reason to.


    And all Sam thought of her was that she was a pretty girl. Pretty, but useless. So useless she could be harmful in a way. He might have understood why Zenaris had wanted to meet with her then, but he had no idea why the Zen who showed no emotions wanted to meet her now. And he doubted she knew of his imprisonment.


    And he waited, watching Zen standing in front of him. He had been standing with the same expression for the last two hours, boredom probably being a non-existent concept to him. Zen looked sideways, noticing something. And Sam, never one for missing an opportunity, ran like his life depended on it towards the disguised princess.


    She was cloaked; everybody was in this day and age, but she was covered completely from head to toe, her hood on, barely revealing anything but her mouth. Sam got to her in a few seconds, then grabbed her arm.


    ¡°Trust me,¡± he said, as he yanked her from her slow pace into the opposite direction. She obliged, running clumsily until he came to a stop. He looked backwards, noticing that Zen was walking slowly instead of running. Sam had guessed his actions well; he knew that Zen wouldn¡¯t expend any energy to catch them because the both of them were bound to come back anyway. Being logical meant being predictable, and it gave Sam enough time to talk. Sam would never have guessed before that losing emotions would only have made Zen into a bigger idiot.


    Or maybe Zen just didn¡¯t care enough.


    ¡°He¡¯s not normal,¡± Sam said, watching the princess wipe the sweat from her brow.


    ¡°You¡¯re Sam, aren¡¯t you? Wha-¡±


    ¡°Do you know about,¡± Sam paused, unsure of how to describe everything that had happened.


    ¡°Yes. I found out a week ago, and I..¡± She said, looking downwards. He could tell she felt really bad about it, and he had a feeling she only knew the gist of it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t give a fuck about how you feel,¡± Sam said, watching Zen come closer; he was only a couple dozen paces away now. ¡°He¡¯s not normal. I¡¯m not talking about the dungeons, he¡¯s¡­ just different. Getting locked up must have gotten to him, but this¡­ one of my friends says it¡¯s some sort of magic,¡± Sam said, waiting for her to laugh.


    She sighed. ¡°Like the bloodborn?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Sam said, surprised, ¡°Tell me later, and do not do anything stupid without telling me.¡±


    She slapped him hard, and then pointed at Zenaris, who was close now. Sam considered that he might have acted a bit too rudely with a very important person.


    Selicia, sweating because she wasn¡¯t used to running, kicked Sam¡¯s knee before straightening up. He bent over, rubbing it, and turned to notice her face a few inches from his.


    ¡°If I didn¡¯t recognize you, I would have thought you were going to rape me,¡± she whispered, making Sam blush, then added, ¡°I would have killed you.¡±


    Sam, skin covered with cold sweat, raised his hand in greeting. Zen nodded, the three of them now standing in a close circle.


    ¡°Don¡¯t try to find me again. This is the last time. If you have anything to say, say it quickly,¡± Said Zen, looking blankly at Selicia. She looked at Sam, only to find him nodding towards Zen.


    ¡°It¡¯s better if you go,¡± said Sam, ¡°there¡¯s nothing you can do with things being like this anyway.¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can do, and you being here is dangerous for you and us. Give me a way to talk to you, and I¡¯ll tell you as soon as something does happen,¡± said Sam, adding ¡°I didn¡¯t mean any disrespect, princess.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Zen glanced at his timepiece impatiently.


    ¡°Give a note to the innkeep of the Bloody Flag near the eastern gate, addressed to the purple dragon. And¡± said Selicia, staring at Zen, ¡°well, nothing.¡± She shook her head and started walking away. So did Zen, while Sam stood where he was, wondering if he could have handled things better. He had forgotten all about the bloodborn.


    He ran to catch up with Zen. They walked in silence again, Sam staring at his feet as they treaded on. He just wanted Zen to stay in the inn until he found a way to cure him.


    Sam turned around, feeling something in the air. Zen did too, and they watched as a plume of smoke erupt from where Selicia was. They heard it too; an explosion of some kind, though it sounded nothing like a cannon. Sam ran towards it.


    Zen, for the first time this month, hesitated. He ran after Sam anyway.


    They found the ruins of a building spilt over the street, two men standing on top. One was a huge, overly muscular man, who was wearing nothing but leather pants and a napkin around his head. The other was thin and short, and looked weaker than either Zen or Sam, though he was the only one smiling widely among the four of them. Selicia lay on the ground, bleeding from her head and covered in dust, her cloak tattered beyond recognition.


    ¡°See Davo, I told you they would come!¡± he laughed. The other man scowled, and then spoke, ¡°You told them my name.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter! Nobody cares about your name!¡± The man laughed again. ¡°I¡¯m Sebastian. Nice to meet you! Ah, what a lovely coincidence. I can¡¯t believe we met two power users in a single day, and managed to nab the princess!¡±


    A chill went down Sam¡¯s spine. He could see- No, he could feel how strong David was, and that was just by standing at this distance; the rubble only proved his point. They were after Selicia, but they had called the two of them power users, which irritated Sam to no end; he only had the gist of what they were talking about.


    ¡°Following the princess really paid off, didn¡¯t it? You young ¡®uns there, would you want to join us? Because we would definitely have to kill you otherwise.¡± Sebastian kept laughing.


    ¡°Tell us more, and we might,¡± said Sam, his voice shaking.


    Zen nodded expressionlessly.


    ¡°Brave, are you? Well, we¡¯re from the bloodborn.¡± Zen stiffened, and Sam¡¯s eyes sharpened. ¡°I can tell where powerful people are in a area around me,¡± said Sebastian, gesturing with his arm, ¡°And David here is¡­ very strong. He punches things,¡± he added, nodding along.


    ¡°You two have the exchange type of power too, I think. I¡¯m special. I don¡¯t give anything for my skill, and I¡¯ve never met anybody like me.¡±


    David reached down and flicked Sebastian¡¯s head with his finger, which made Sebastian stumble backwards. He straightened, still flailing his arms about as he stood still. Sam stayed quiet.


    ¡°I¡¯m not coming with you,¡± said Zen, still wearing the same face he was an hour ago, ¡°and I¡¯m definitely not dying.¡±


    Sam was surprised, to say the least. So were the other two.


    ¡°What?¡± Sebastian asked.


    ¡°I promised myself that I wouldn¡¯t let my friends get hurt,¡± Zen said, his voice strong and serious, ¡°And that I wouldn¡¯t die like this.¡±


    Sam smiled. A tiny bit of hope and optimism in a crazy situation did a lot for him.


    ¡°Give us a bit to talk, will you? I¡¯m sure we couldn¡¯t hurt you no matter what we tried. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll come to his senses and then we can all be on your merry way,¡± said Sam, inching closer to Zen. Sebastian whistled; David sighed, then nodded.


    ¡°Gimme your knives,¡± Sam whispered, grinning like a madman. The blood was rushing to his head; it wouldn¡¯t be easy to tell who was the one with the mental disability anymore.


    Zen stared blankly at him, unsure of what to do. He then reached inside and bought it to the front of his cloak, hidden where Sam could easily take it


    ¡°The one in your shoe, too. Get ready to take it out.¡±


    Zen shook his head.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t do that, I will fight that bastard with my goddamn fists. You don¡¯t want your friends to get hurt, do you?¡± Sam said, the grin on his face still there.


    Sam closed his eyes. Moments passed without another word or motion. Then he opened them, and everybody felt it.


    ¡°Get that crazy one! He¡¯s gettin-¡± said Sebastian, and a rock flew onto Zen as he raised his arm. It barely grazed him, though the hit was still strong enough to knock him off his feet, his arm taking the brunt of the force.


    ¡°Not him, you fool!¡± shouted Sebastian again.


    Sam stood a few feet away from Zen now, holding a dagger downwards. He bought his hands together.


    ¡°Essence of clockwork.¡±


    The world shifted to correct itself. In a movement, things were clearer, almost as if there had been something wrong in their midst the whole time.


    David threw another piece of rubble towards Sam, but he seemingly glided sideways. His movements were graceful, precise. He slid his foot forwards and swung his arm sideways, his upper body twisting with it. The knife was released at the perfect moment, moving in a straight line without spinning once. David raised his arm to block his face; and the knife did go right into David¡¯s arm, piercing it and spilling blood across the floor.


    ¡°Zen,¡± said Sam, as he bent to pick up a rock. Zen tossed him his other knife, while Sam moved with the same scary control he had used a moment ago and flung the rock towards Sebastian. The debris exploded into a million pieces as it made contact and he fell backwards. Sam caught the knife Zen had thrown before he recovered and extended his arm upwards. He swung vertically downwards, the knife once more flying right into David¡¯s leg. It missed this time as David bent, digging into his thigh instead.


    Both David and Sebastian were subdued for now, if not fatally wounded. David moved slowly towards them. The color faded from Sam and he staggered, his smooth precise motions now reduced to drunken swagger; though he still had a lot more fight left in him than anyone could see.


    Sam and Zen didn¡¯t waste a moment. Not a word was said as they both bent to pick Selicia up. The way they held her was not the way a hero carried a princess, but it let them run away swiftly and with haste.

 2-4 Wearied Distress

    The Church of Renere was and is one of the most peaceful, yet powerful following ever created. Founded in the mainland during the dark ages, it quickly took over the hearts of people using naught but an open-minded and pragmatic approach, unlike the Church of Turin, which had been infamous for gaining most of their followers through coin and blackmail. Furthermore, each of its archpriests was observed to hold some mystical power, said to be gifted from God himself. This blatant show of the supernatural only strengthened the Church¡¯s hold over the majority. The archpriests thankfully avoided anything related to politics or war, though the 27th archpriest, widely known for his control and kinship with the great red dragon known as Talon, was murdered by the criminal group known only as the bloodborn during his 3-year long pilgrimage in the city of Valeris in the western isles. His death, though leaving a void in the hearts of many followers, only helped further his beliefs. The 28th archpriest took over his seat a month later, in the year 895.


    Sam and Zen hurried through the streets, Selicia carried haphazardly in their arms. She was still bleeding from her forehead. Sam glanced at Zen, surprised at his stamina. The hit Zen had suffered had definitely broken a few ribs, but it didn¡¯t seem to a affect him at all. He also wondered why David hadn¡¯t chased after them, suspecting that the strength he possessed gave him a handicap of some kind. All he knew that the power he had used, or the immense physical strength David had possessed, came with a price. Sam felt weak and wanted to give up, but he kept moving towards the inn.


    It was a horrible idea. Their pursuers could detect their location somehow, and leading them to the inn would only endanger Charles and the people there. But Zen had persuaded Sam, telling him it was the right thing to do, and Sam couldn¡¯t refuse. Not after knowing that there were a few rules the old Zenaris had given the new one, even if he had no idea what he was going through yet.


    Zen had different things on his mind. He wanted to go back, before he changed. He also didn¡¯t want to die, and didn¡¯t want to let anyone else die. That much he had promised himself while he was imprisoned. But he didn¡¯t see any possibility of even only him surviving unless he seeked out help at the inn. The castle was too far away, especially in the condition they were in now. He was sure Charles was hiding something deep, and he did know about these powers. He was their last(or only) hope now.


    They rushed to a stop as they broke into knell street. Eyes bore into them from everywhere as they scampered towards the inn. Sam pushed open the door; both of them carefully laid Selicia on the floor, and then Sam dropped to the floor recklessly. Zen sat on a chair nearby. Not one of the two took note of the two already inside.


    The old man sitting next to Charles chuckled. ¡°Is that the boy?¡± he asked, eyes pointing towards Sam. Charles shook his head and walked over to them, trying to check for wounds. The old man got up, his wrinkled face grinning, at least until he saw the the faint traces blood and dust on their clothes.


    ¡°It was the bloodborn,¡± said Sam, his back still on the floor, ¡°they¡¯re after her.¡±


    ¡°And us,¡± added Zen, ¡°Sam, what the hell did you do there?¡±


    ¡°Calm down, and tell me everything that happened,¡± said Charles, in a voice that suggested that he was the one trying his hardest to be calm.


    And so Zen told him everything that had happened, word to word, as quickly as he could.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how I did what I did, but-¡± said Sam.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Was it about that dream you told me?¡± asked Charles.


    Sam bit his tongue; he had told Charles he had a dream about gaining power, in hope that he would finally gleam some more information from Charles about Zen¡¯s condition and Charles¡¯ past. He stuttered a bit, trying to say something.


    ¡°That was all horsecrap, wasn¡¯t it? Only an idiot would have believed that tale,¡± said the old man, leaning near Zen. His face was twisted with concentration. ¡°I can help you two, but you¡¯ll owe me greatly for it.¡±


    Zen nodded, as did Sam. Something in the stranger¡¯s words made them feel like he could really help.


    ¡°They¡¯ve both bargained for it,¡± noted the old man, looking at Charles. Charles had a grim expression on his face as he nodded. The old man made a gesture and pushed with the flat of his hand towards Selicia, and she glowed. He turned towards Zen then. His eyes bore deep into Zen.


    ¡°You¡¯ve hurt a lot more than those two, and your head...¡± The old man sighed. ¡°He isn¡¯t using his talent, but he¡¯s still suffering from it. He did this to himself, whether he knows it or not,¡± said the old man, talking to Charles.


    his hand started moving in intricate patterns, ¡°I need your permission before I do this.¡±


    ¡°Do it,¡± said Zen, without hesitation. He knew was broken, if not how, and he wanted to be fixed.


    The man pushed with his palm again, but this time hit Zen in the chest as white light exploded from him. It encircled him, like particles in the air, before streaming right back into him.


    Zenaris jerked forward, then caught himself against a table. He gasped for air, and the old man pulled his hood over his face, covering it completely.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Zenaris whispered, though only the old man heard it.


    ¡°We all are,¡± he replied slowly. The old man looked around, glancing at everybody. He waved at Charles and took his leave, sighing. He didn¡¯t think the situation was half as dire as it was until he got to that blue-eyed boy.


    ¡°You thought it was a good idea to come here? What if they followed you?¡± said Charles, his voice louder than they had ever heard.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± said Zenaris, standing up, ¡°for everything.¡± His voice carried heavy regret and sincerity; He looked different. His posture had changed, and so had the way he talked. His eyes were strained, trying to hold back something. He avoided Sam¡¯s and Charles¡¯ eyes as he stepped out of the inn, running in the direction they came from.


    ¡°I¡¯m going too,¡± said Sam, getting up and leaving just as Zenaris did.


    Charles just sat there, unsure of what to do. He turned his head towards the girl.


    ¡°You¡¯re awake, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Selicia opened her eyes, and lifted herself to her feet. She stared at him, shrugging; She looked tense and ready to run away, just like a squirrel. A few moments passed, and she resigned to a seat, giving up.


    ¡°Tell me about that magic they used,¡± she said.


    Charles had thought the girl was odd. He sighed.


    ¡°Nobody knows much about them,¡± he started, willing to vent by explaining, ¡°and they have many names. Some men are born with these powers, but most are given them at seemingly erratic times. And most give pay a price when they use their powers.¡±


    He paced around the room, and she stayed still in her seat, listening.


    ¡°I call the ones with the price malheur, but most call them talents.¡±


    Charles thought the name he made had the most sense to it, and was about to continue on a long lecture about noted talents in history.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t care less. It isn''t as interesting as I thought, and all I understand is that there is nothing worth understanding. We¡¯re wasting time here while the both of them put themselves in danger,¡± she said, he voice awfully commanding. Charles was left slack-jawed, but he couldn¡¯t help but think that she was right.


    ¡°It¡¯s their issue now. I have no job he-¡±


    ¡°If helping your friends in their time of need isn¡¯t your job, then what is?¡± she said, surprising even herself with that line.


    Charles sighed for the millionth time today. He just couldn''t stay still and let them throw their lives away.


    ¡°Sure. Why the fuck not,¡± he said, grabbing his coat.

 Not a chapter - update 2

    Hello.


    I was unable to write anything last week, and I thoroughly regret not being able to keep up with the schedule I assigned myself. I''ve just lost the motivation and interest needed for me to continue writing this the same way I have. I also only get sundays off to myself, and spending those writing just doesn''t feel healthy. I will be taking another break now; one that will last for at least another week. I will wrap up this arc with something decent(or die trying). But I do not know if I will be continuing this series after that. My schedule looks like it might have some drastic changes happen soon, and that might affect me a lot.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Even with my meagre 7 followers, I felt that I had to put this out. Thank you for your time.


    tl;dr: No chapter for another week or two. Expect a chapter, but I might be quitting after that one. I don''t know yet. We''ll see after I write the chapter and consider all my options.

 Im done.

    Zenaris Wiscith sat on the ground, waiting for his assailants to catch up with him. He had already waited too long, and he resented having that much time to think. It felt like someone else¡¯s beliefs were imposed on to his memories. Except, he began to realize slowly, that these these thoughts were his own. From a different, albeit the same, Zenaris. He also felt something else deep inside, something eerily familiar; an intense desire to just die.


    He saw a huge figure making his way through the street to him from the corner of his eye. He didn¡¯t have to look twice to know it was David, the giant who had almost taken Selicia and killed Sam and himself both. His head hurt, but he had managed to make the right decision a moment ago. He had guessed David¡¯s accomplice, Sebastian, could only sense power-users, and he had been right. Or maybe they had just considered him more important than the royal princess.


    And so he watched him approach. David was moving slowly; the injuries he had suffered had been tied up tightly with cloth, but his laboured moment seemed like it had nothing to do with his wound. And Zenaris knew that he had been right on two counts now; just like how Sam¡¯s and Zen¡¯s power took something away, it was the same for David.


    He staggered to his feet; his head hurt with all the memories and implications that had stricken him. He hoped he had been right about how his power worked too, because otherwise it could end with David slaughtering everyone at the inn. The behemoth approached at a length. Unbeknownst to the two, Sam too ran towards them with what vitality he had managed to regain.


    ¡°Hello. It¡¯s a nice day, isn¡¯t it?¡± Zenaris lied, gesturing around himself. David opened his mouth to speak for the first time, and his voice was soft and low, unlike the rough strong voice that was expected.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to fight. We don¡¯t have to kill you.¡±


    Zenaris couldn¡¯t wait longer. He blinked, and then flickered. And he was gone the next moment. David kept his ears keen and looked around footprints or anything that might give up his location. He lifted his arm and tapped his ear twice, waiting for a message. He swung his body to the right, just as a knife passed through where his chest had been; Zenaris staggered into the world where he disappeared. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to kill; not again.


    Sam threw a rock at David, but David seemed to know exactly where Sam was standing as he dodged it. He walked over to Zenaris, who was only a few feet away. Zenaris lay on the floor, clutching his head. David swung his arm down with a ferocious speed.


    <hr>


    ¡°The other boy is right behind you. No, he hasn¡¯t used his talent yet. But he will. Be ready!¡± Sebastian hissed, as he sat in a room not far away. He was using his power at a distance, unwilling to get into a fight powerless as he did before. ¡°There!¡± He said excitedly, as he felt a felt small spark of energy in Sam. He tensed, his gut telling him to run away. ¡°Finish up fast. That powerful presence is a dozen houses awa-¡± he got to his feet, aware that this presence had covered that distance and more. David must have been standing toe to toe with him now if Sebastian sensed right.


    Though he wouldn¡¯t live to find out; he looked down to see a rapier poking out of his belly. His blood leaked out slowly as he slumped to the floor. He looked up to see a hooded girl wiping the blood of her sword. No, this was no girl. He felt himself smile. Selicia listened to him as he spurted out his last words. ¡°So this is how I die.¡±


    <hr>


    Charles blocked David¡¯s attack with his bare hand; the sound the impact made made Sam flinch backwards, and a burst of air made Charles¡¯ shirt rustle. David punched with his other arm; his fist was caught by Charles and then it was returned. Charles then took his leg back with frightening speed and kicked David.