Something short and wiry crashed into him, thin arms twining vice-like around his abdomen.

With some effort, Ruban kept himself from striking the white-clad man who currently had him in a bear hug, his gaunt face buried in Ruban’s jacket.

The other white-clad protestors gathered around them, clapping and cheering. So, it took Ruban a moment to realize that the man in his arms was actually weeping into his chest.

With a squawk of indignation, Ruban pulled the other man off his chest.

“What’re you doing, man?” He demanded harshly. “I could’ve killed you.”

The wiry protestor dabbed at his eyes with a long, white sleeve. “And it would have been an honor,” he sniffed haughtily. “To die by your hands. If only I was so fortunate—”

“Stop babbling,” Ruban snapped. “And tell me what exactly you lot are doing here. Did you have permission to organize this protest? Because I know for a fact that the East Ragah Division had warned the IAW weeks ago about potential Aeriel activity in this area—”

“But that’s exactly why we needed to hold this protest!” The gaunt-faced man interrupted, his voice shrill with passion. “Don’t you see? Our government is planning to sell this country to Vaan, with this alliance. It’s why these Aeriels have been proliferating in our public spaces, in our neighborhoods.”

“It’s a travesty!” One of the white-clad figures piped up from the background. The others nodded gravely, making sounds of concurrence.

“If we don’t fight for our rights, for our people,” the wiry man continued, throwing an irate glance at his comrades. “Then do we even deserve to call ourselves human?”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you call yourselves,” Ruban growled, stepping away from the overwrought man. “But I prefer not to create human corpses on my Hunts.”

“If our corpses will draw the media’s attention to the conspiracy between Vaan and our government–” The man spoke with a conviction that seemed too large for his short, bony frame. “If our blood will inspire the Hunter Corps to rise up against their masters at the IAW for the sake of humanity…then we consider it blood well spilt.”

Ruban sighed, cursing the minty cocktail Vik had coaxed into him earlier that evening. He wasn’t sober enough for this. “Fine. But next time, spill it somewhere that doesn’t fall within my jurisdiction.” He held up the reinforced sifblade he’d retrieved from the dying, white-clad man a few minutes ago. “Want to tell me how you lot got your hands on this?”

Murmurs passed across the group, and their gaunt-faced leader took a single step back.

“Speak up!” Ruban snarled, after a couple of minutes had passed with no concrete answer. “Do you idiots even know what this is? Do you have any idea how dangerous these can be?”

“Dangerous?” The gaunt-faced protestor laughed, his deep-set eyes sparkling with renewed fervor. “That it is. For those accursed Aeriels. It’s our only chance against them, don’t you see?

“For centuries, our ancestors dreamed of a weapon such as this,” he continued heatedly. “A blade that could cut through invulnerable Aeriel skin like butter, a single laceration enough to sap them of their life energy. Even a few years ago, such a miracle would’ve been unimaginable…”

Ruban bit his tongue until the salty, metallic tang of blood suffused his senses. The protestor’s impassioned tirade was lost on him. All he heard was the sizzle of burning, melting skin. All he saw was the macabre beauty of Janak Nath’s intricate brand, etched forever onto Ashwin’s skin with reinforced sif.

A few months ago, the chief of every Hunter Quarter in Ragah had been issued a reinforced sifblade, as part of the roll-out process.

Ruban carried it with him to every Hunt, as was protocol. He’d yet to use it, even once. The thought of doing so made his skin crawl. That gruesome brand, tattooed permanently an inch below Ashwin’s collarbone, flashed before his eyes every time he drew his reinforced sifblade from its sheath.

Reinforced sif, in any form, reminded him of the mad gleam in Janak Nath’s eyes, illuminating the dreary dankness of Reivaa’s castle. The thought made his stomach clench with unease.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“…You’re the only one in that nest of vipers we can truly trust. The only man at the IAW who truly cares for this country and her people,” the gaunt-faced young man continued, pulling Ruban out of his reverie. “You’d lay down your life before you see Vandram sold to Tauheen’s successor for a king's ransom in feathers.”

“What?” Ruban squinted suspiciously at the reverent, adoring faces of the white-clad crew before him. “Nobody’s selling Vandram to anyone—”

“Of course they are!” cried a stocky woman with tightly braided hair. “You’ve spent your life fighting those creatures. You single-handedly purged this land of Tauheen and Reivaa, who’d terrorized humankind for centuries. You know better than anyone how wily Aeriels are, how deceptive they can be.”

Having spent the past few weeks planning a surprise birthday party with Ashwin, Ruban couldn’t, in good conscience, dispute the wily deceptiveness of Aeriels.

“This so-called ‘alliance’ is nothing but an excuse for those traitors in the government to fill their own pockets, before they’re booted out in next year’s election.” Irritably flicking a thick braid over her shoulder, the woman continued. “What I don’t understand is why the IAW is going along with this farce.”

Because Ashwin’s got them by the balls and won’t let go until he has what he wants, Ruban didn’t say. “The IAW has always worked to ensure the safety and wellbeing of our people. If they believe that an alliance with Vaan is what this country needs—”

“What this country needs are strong leaders who wouldn’t sell us into slavery to light their homes with gilded feathers like a bunch of medieval aristocrats,” the wiry young man snapped, wrenching the limelight back from his stocky comrade. “Not this craven Cabinet that folds at the slightest pressure from Vaan, so easily seduced by the new queen that they’re ready to host her ambassador less than a year after the massacre at Reivaa’s old castle.”

Before Ruban could formulate a suitable response to this eloquent appeal, a white-clad knee connected with his groin.

He yelped, doubling over – more so with surprise than with pain.

A handful of the protestors lunged at him. Two of them grabbed his arms while a third cleaved to his legs with all his meagre strength, mumbling apologies as he did so.

Finally, their gaunt-faced leader came into view. Stepping gingerly over Ruban’s splayed legs, he knelt beside him. “I’m so sorry to do this to you,” he murmured, the words infused with genuine regret. “You’re our hero, a true patriot. And this country – no, all of humanity – will be forever indebted to you for exterminating Tauheen and her cabal of bloodthirsty terrorists.”

As he spoke, he pried the reinforced sifblade from Ruban’s fingers, even as two of the other protestors held his arms immobilized.

“But you must understand the importance of our mission. The invention of the reinforced sifblade – at this particular point in history,” he struggled to dislodge Ruban’s fingers from the carved hilt of the weapon. “Do you honestly believe it’s a coincidence that the most powerful weapon humans have ever had against Aeriels was perfected less than two years after Tauheen’s death?”

“It’s a sign,” the stocky woman came to kneel on the other side of Ruban, pulling absently at the white ribbon on one of her braids. “A sign of the new era that is to come. There was a time when Aeriels ruled upon this earth. It’s only fair, therefore, that Vaan should fall under human reign now that the Aeriel queen is dead.”

Murmurs of assent went up among the gathered protestors.

“That’s why HAVA was born. Why this alliance with Vaan cannot be allowed to happen, at any cost.” Her voice turned graver, more serious, evidently pleased by the response her words had garnered. “It’s the age of humanity. The days of Aeriel supremacy are long over—”

“And the reinforced sifblade will end what’s left of their false hubris,” her gaunt-faced comrade growled, his dark eyes alight.

Once again, the crowd murmured its approval.

Taking advantage of their distraction, Ruban jerked his right leg free and kicked out. The skinny young man clinging to his legs was sent hurtling across the grassy floor.

His legs freed, Ruban planted them firmly on the ground, using them as leverage to twist his body around.

He wrenched his left hand free from its captor. Grabbing the startled protestor by the nape of his neck, he slammed him – face first – into the ground.

Pushing himself partly off the ground, he allowed the fingers of his right hand to slacken. As the reinforced sifblade was ripped from his hand, he grabbed the wiry wrist and twisted. The gaunt-faced young man cried out, his fingers relinquishing the reinforced sifblade despite himself.

Ruban sprang to his feet, pulling the other man up with him. He planted a foot firmly on top of the reinforced sifblade, just in case one of the other protestors tried to get at it.

He needn’t have worried. All the uninjured protestors had fled the scene as soon as Ruban was back on his feet. The only ones who remained were either dead or held in place by their injuries.

Ruban whirled his captive around, pulling his arm up firmly against his back. The latter groaned, jerking his body forward in a feeble attempt to free himself. Ruban further twisted his already-swollen wrist until he stilled, whimpering.

“But why?” he cried, as Ruban stooped to retrieve the reinforced sifblade from the ground. “We’re on the same side. You know this government is colluding with Aeriels. Everyone knows it was corruption within the IAW that caused the enhanced sifblade formula to be stolen in the first place. You can’t truly believe an alliance with Vaan will be beneficial for this country, much less for humanity as a whole.”

Ruban sighed, dragging the babbling young man along until they reached his car. “We can discuss my beliefs in more detail once you’re safely behind bars.” Shoving him roughly into the SUV, Ruban cuffed his uninjured wrist to the grab handle above the door. “Trust me, you’ll have a long time to think about the beliefs that drove you to steal government property,” he glanced at the reinforced sifblade now safely sheathed at his belt. “And attack an officer on duty. I’ll personally see to that.”