Differences aside, everyone wanted the same thing out of this meeting; to evaluate Tisiryk and his abilities as Lord Commander. Heir-designates were never raised outside the capital but Tisiryk was, in a city so far away from the capital. Worse, until their eldfather's death, he continued living there. As if that wasn't enough, for the first time in a thousand and one cycles, he was the first heir-designate that didn't have the full backing of the people because he didn't double as Lord Redinan.

  They all wanted to know how well he could rule, if he had what it took given his circumstances.

  Tisiryk wasn't failing.

  From the start of the meeting, he made every decision masterfully, never budged to the wailings of the Barons if he didn't see fit. In this regard, Araan could agree he was as good as their eldfather.

  Araan quickly learned this wasn't the place he functioned best. Most of what was discussed was primarily matters the Lord Commander handled. His presence at the meeting was a formality, a way to please him so he would willingly support Tisiryk where he would most certainly fail without him.

  The burial.

  It was going to take place next seikan in the Oath Tower, where a gathering of several thousand commoners would be present, watching everything they did. If Araan even looked uncomfortable, Tisiryk would lose reputation. That was why the meeting went on rather nicely without the slightest hint of clashing factions.

  Honestly, Araan was more than fine playing the role if this was what they had in mind. It meant when he announced he wasn't staying, there wouldn't be much change. It also meant he could focus on finding out as much about the murder as possible. Dirakh wouldn't wait an extra micro-seikan, even if Tisiryk was confirmed as next to be murdered. He needed as much time as possible.

  Speaking of murders, the meeting finally proved worthwhile when Baron Waske asked his question.

  Everyone respected Ioran Waske, the ruler of Venavaine city. He was already a baron before Dund Vinid himself became Lord Commander.

  He was the oldest noble here. He had no askora on his head nor back, and he wore a grey cloak modified Life Armour that hid all of his blue-green skin except his face.

  Baron Waske stood up right after the matters of the burial was settled. He timed it right, waiting for a moment where the nobles seemed united on an issue, where someone like Finram, who wasn't used to the whims of court, tried to relax. The youngling almost fell out of his chair.

  His voice had an aged vibration that the silent hall echoed. “There have been rumors flying since I arrived Kolvak... Of a strange footprint etched in the floor of the Lord Commander's meeting hall, flooring that seems to have vanished when I demanded to see it. What are we to make of this, High Commander Vinid? Or should it be your council I question?”

  No one else had referred to him with his old title. The baron's move made the hall quiet.

  Tisiryk smiled in response. “A meeting is never complete without a rattle from the Baron of Venavaine. I must say I am honored to experience it in my first. The footprints were never hidden, they're part of an investigation, and their disappearance is only to ensure they remain intact until I have uncovered everything.”

  “And what secrets have you discovered?”

  “None that I can tell you. Like I said it's an investigation.”

  “I heard the prints are not of this world,” Baron Waske said.

  “A rumor I hope you dismissed yourself,” General Zamaro quipped and a gentle snicker rose from amongst the nobles.

  Tisiryk wasn't smiling.

  “No, Zamaro, you see my informants called them otherworldly because no one has seen them before— the armours, I mean.” Before anyone else could respond, he opened his cloak, revealing a mismatched outfit of Life Armours.

  The black torso piece was worn like a jacket. It lacked any visible metal that the conventional Life Armours had, and looked rough and dense instead like a material made out of a tough hide of a creature. Was the metalwork underneath? Araan couldn't tell. It was sealed and didn't seem to have the engine that made Life Armours work.

  If Araan had to guess, that part was in the rest of the armour that the baron didn't wear, as the rest of his attire was normal.

  Nevertheless, the armour had its effect. Eyes turned to Baron Waske and stayed there. “Didn't the bodies of the murderers have this on?” he asked.

  All of the council looked very unsettled now. Finram stared hard at the floor.

  “What point are you trying to make with this spectacle, Baron Waske,” Tisiryk asked. His askoras were twitching slightly. It was more emotion than he'd expressed since the meeting began combined.

  Baron Waske smiled, revealing teeth severely blunted by age. “I have been in this city, in this citadel for only one hundred micro-seikans and I have heard countless tales. When you have lived as long as I have you gain the skill to easily determine which is baseless and which is half-truth.”

  “And you have discovered one of such half-truths?” Araan found himself asking. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Tisiryk had faced him, but Araan focused on Baron Waske, urging for an answer. The old noble's statements were already a breach of protocol as it were, he couldn't risk someone stopping him from saying more.

  “Of a prisoner who, in one Dark Half, infiltrated the citadel and murdered over fifty workers and guards in the Lord's Quarters. Half-truths of a prisoner so dangerous that the Lord Commander himself was his questioner after he was captured.

  “That prisoner is said to be one of the last cyperans to ever see the Lord Commander alive, yet no proof of existence of such a special person is found or is he part of your investigation?” Baron Waske asked.

  Tisiryk looked at the interim council. General Nomik answered. “The prisoner was just another burned body. He was of no consequence.”

  “I hear differently,” was the baron's reply as he took his seat. “A mysterious criminal and a strange footprint. Why would they be separate?”

  Neither Araan nor Baron Waske had to ask another question to push the meeting in the direction Araan wanted. Another baron stood up, questioning the council's wisdom in the incessant burning of bodies. From the looks on their faces, and the poses of the other nobles, he spoke their minds.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Baron Waske was staring at Araan oddly enough, watching him with a smile that was far from friendly. He did not remember Baron Waske being close with his eldfather, in fact, all he recalled were heated quarrels behind closed doors and constant oppositions in open court. All of this was an act, though he wasn't certain what it was for. Yet.

  Plots and agendas. It didn't feel so strange as he let himself get embroiled in it. He didn't know about the others but with the way this was going, he was sure he would get what he came here for.

  Araan smiled back.

  ■

  Ten were dead, the eleventh was up ahead.

  More time in the market didn't make the acrid smell of burning metal any more tolerable. The fumes bothered everyone, paths chaotic with the roaring flames blocking a few. Dirakh didn't see any market-folk but being here was so disorientating that he doubted the attackers were actively searching. If they didn't find a way to leave soon, the fumes would kill them either way.

  The attacker spotted him first.

  He aimed the gun he held at Dirakh at first, then dropped it recognizing the uniform and helmet. Dirakh saw the tension leave as he jogged towards him with a level pace.

  His blue Life Armour laid burning in a building many turns back. After the sixth kill, he found it was easier if he looked like them. It wasn't all perfect—the helmet obscured some of his vision and if they stared long enough, they'd notice the torso piece was tight—but it was worth it.

  “Yllen? That is you, right? Turn around, show me your life armour,” the attacker said at the top of his voice. He was the first one Dirakh allowed a chance to speak.

  Dirakh showed him.

  “I started to think you wouldn't show,” the attacker said after inspecting.

  “Why?” the roaring flames seemed to mask his voice enough.

  “Are you blind?”

  “Partly,” Dirakh replied wryly.

  “We'll see if you have the same mouth when Eorah gets here. You're supposed to find the others in the west and bring them here. That's why she sent you there, to keep them in line.”

  “I didn't see anyone,” Dirakh lied, uninterested. The purpose of letting him speak was so he could find the others faster. This place was getting too hot. Even for him.

  The attacker on his part, seemed oblivious. He was rambling. “No one is that devoted, not in this age. You know what, who cares? Let them burn themselves for some stupid noble's war.”

  Dirakh reacted less than he expected when he heard the words. The attackers were supposed to kill themselves after they murdered everyone else. It made him wonder about the first one he killed by the hill, he was probably the only one who would have obeyed the noble's orders.

  Mind-boggling as the order was, he could understand their decision to disobey it even though all of it didn't bother him. Dirakh just wished the masked attacker would slip the location of the others in his ramblings. He didn't.

  He tried questioning. “How sure are you Eorah gathered her group?”

  “Why wouldn't she?”

  That was confident. That was the confirmation he needed.

  “Where would she be?”

  That was the wrong question. The other cyperan slowed in his ramblings and faced Dirakh. They were supposed to know that or Eorah warned not to ask such questions. Either way he was made.

  “Think of it this way, your masters would see you all as loyal when I kill you,” Dirakh said, mockingly.

  “Cari,” The attacker cursed, moving to grab his gun and Dirakh hit him in the side of his head.

  He stumbled back a few steps while Dirakh lifted his rifle and fired at his chest. The attacker slumped, gaseous blood fuming out of the wound.

  He was still alive, he wouldn't survive, but there was time for Dirakh to find out what he knew.

  “Where are they?” Dirakh asked.

  “I... I was going to lea...ve Kolvak,” the attacker groaned, barely audible in the presence of the fires. “We all were.”

  “You could have left without doing all of this.”

  The dying cyperan laughed painfully. “You don't know how these things work do you?”

  Dirakh shrugged, “I wasn't raised in a city.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Enough stalling, they won't come. Don't you think it's unfair that you die and they don't? Tell me where to find them and that won't happen.”

  “Damn you, Cari!” the attacker cursed weakly.

  “Up north from here?” Dirakh asked him, watching him carefully.

  “When Eorah finds you—”

  “No, I can still see fires up ahead no matter how far I look. It has to be somewhere not this hot. Northeast?” Dirakh asked.

  Laughter.

  “Northwest?”

  Hesitance.

  “Just west?”

  His reaction was silence then a sudden attempt to grab his gun. His movement was languid, hardly in his favour. Dirakh blasted off both arms.

  Dirakh walked away as the attacker screamed to death, blood flowing from every wound. Out of everything, that was what brought him back.

  Dirakh could see why Araan ignored his emotions so often. It made it easier to do the necessary. Necessary here was killing the attackers... Or at least it had been. He didn't even know the people murdered by the attackers. He couldn't classify what he was doing as revenge, and now, he wasn't even sure if what he was doing, hunting the attackers down, was justice.

  The momentary uncertainty vanished with the memory of the dead mother, of the numerous bodies he found on his way here. Everyone might have just been unfortunate, including the attackers but they didn't have to do this.

  The eleventh attacker wasn't very specific about where in the east of the High-rim market he would find the others so he wandered a while. The change in area was noticeable with cooler air brushing past him. It did little to ease him with the tight Life Armour he was wearing. The metal of the armour was so hot that he was certain he'd be scarred in the spot where it pressed against his side.

  With nothing to do but trek, he busied himself; trying to make sense of what happened and why. He had to tell Araan something, after all.

  He found something strange like Araan had wanted. That case was strange enough. What was in it? He didn't know but it was important enough to risk setting a fire in a living settlement.

  If everyone was commiting suicide after this, who was taking the case back? He had to assume they weren't going to destroy it since they didn't do so back at the abandoned building with Barimi. Maybe he didn't give them a chance with the way he barged in, but they had to be stupid if they prioritized chasing and killing him over such an important order.

  Something was missing there. It was either someone in the group was given a separate task of returning it —possibly their leader Eorah—or they were hiding it someplace safe where a new group would find it after the fire. The second one didn't sound smart to him but it was something he believed a royal would do so he kept it as an option.

  Lastly, who was the noble that sent these ones? He had no idea who it could be. When there were no guards arriving at the market, even after what felt like a whole cycle, he knew one had to be involved. The only connection to a noble was to the one in the sealed off area in the citadel. He didn't know her name, but he could recognize her if he saw her again. Araan could start from there.

  That was a lot for Araan especially considering he had only asked him to monitor the sealed off area. Dirakh wondered what Araan would look like when he recounted all that went down here. Something told him—

  Several loud explosions cut off his line of thought. It happened about half a league behind him, atop the slanted hill. It was ablaze with the burning minerals of the rock, giving the flame a reddish white hue. No one near it could have survived.

  It was getting too dangerous to be here. For a moment, he contemplated leaving again. He dismissed the idea with the promise to keep heading east till he was out of the market if he didn't find Eorah and the rest of the attackers there.

  Four dome-shaped rock buildings, not dissimilar from the warehouses in Nioa, were by the way side up ahead. Like the building Barimi had been taken to earlier, it was abandoned. Chaotic as everything was, there wasn't even so much as a flicker within its vicinity. The perfect hideout if Dirakh ever saw one.

  Dirakh walked into the buildings, checking one after the other. He found nothing in any of them.

  Suddenly he heard shouting as he walked out.

  It came from behind the last building he had checked. It was too sudden. There was no place to take cover.

  Three masked attackers emerged from behind the building almost the same time, as though they were being chased.

  They were so oblivious, no one bothered to turn around. Whatever they had been running from took a lot out of them. Their resting gave him time to aim.

  Finally, one turned around. Dirakh fired and he dropped.

  The others reacted to it and faced him. They were angry.

  Quickly, Dirakh pulled the trigger. It didn't work. He looked at the rifle, wondering what the problem was. Then he heard the rushing footsteps.

  He looked up and saw them. He had missed the chance and they were coming for him.