The second that bastard stepped out of his carriage to the very second he went back inside it, my body was as tense as could be. Every nerve inside me twitched and tingled, my hands wanting nothing more but to be squeezing his fat neck, depriving him of the air he loved so much. I wanted to show these people they have been lied to, cheated, and misled dozens of times. Every word that exited his mouth made me want to vomit, and if it weren’t for Sylvester keeping a watchful eye on me, I knew I would have acted foolishly.
Staying within the shadows, I watched as the guards pushed the citizens back into place. The king and Leonidas withdrew from the courtyard, and I was left to my thoughts again, Sylvester by my side like an eagle watching my every move.
Mooks did the honors of tugging on my leg with his teeth, because if I waited a little longer, it was possible that Leonidas might have seen me through the tinted windows of the carriage. I shook Mooks off, slouched my hood over my face, and walked away; there was nothing left for me to see other than useless cheers and undeserved applause.
Sylvester led all of us back to the inn where we stayed the previous night. It wasn’t expensive, the rooms were comfy and felt like home, and none of the workers were allowed to bother the guests. So, deciding to stay here was not a debate worth having.
After settling in, we all hovered around a large oval table in Sylvester’s room, which turned out to be the only thing in his room for some odd reason. There were no beds, no cabinets, no clothes even; just a table and a window.
Sylvester placed a brown potato bag on the table filled with intricate items, then began to elaborate on our next actions. “Seems like my predictions were true. There will indeed be a public execution, later today as well.” He smiled, his mustache curling along with his thin lips, “This is flowing very smoothly. All according to plan.”
“What plan?” I asked diligently.
“Perhaps I should have mentioned,” He cleared his throat, placing his hands against the table. “My plans never fail… Ever.”
“He’s right, you know.” added Tesla, although the extra remark wasn’t necessary.
I thought back for a moment, about the story he told me when he was with the Black Legion. No, he wasn’t just with them, he was the leader. Yes, if my memory serves me correctly, Sylvester was the leader, meaning that he was the one conducting the plans. It was his plan that failed, which resulted in me being stuck inside the Gulag.
“Yes, I was the man in charge,” Sylvester dove into my head again. I really needed to start covering my eyes when I’m around him. “But it wasn’t my plan that failed. I’m afraid the man who’s plan we followed had passed on the battlefield.”
I knew I had no room to talk. I was not a leader. I was not a plan maker. I was a man who did what he was told, and when a decision needed to be made, I would choose the one that only catered towards my goals. Mooks was well aware of this too. In fact, there were times he almost died due to foolish, self-centered actions by me.
“What is the plan?” I asked him.
“Quite simple actually. All we need to do is wait until your friends arrive—”
“They are not my friends.” I interrupted him. I knew the only reason he said friends was to tick me off. And as much as I hated to admit it, it worked very well in his favor.
“Apologies,” He bowed respectfully, reaching into the bag on the table and pulling out a small black object. I couldn’t see what it was at first, but once he placed it in the center of the table, I recognized the item immediately. It was the black frog from the alley.
Rina’s eyes fixated onto the frog almost instantly, giving me the clear indication that Mooks was correct when he first came about it. Although seeing it in the hands of Sylvester was sure to cause some of Rina’s nerves to spike. Even I was confused.
“Where in the hell did you get that?!” Rina snapped, her face twisting into a mix of confusion and anger.
“Please,” Sylvester made a soft gesture with his hands as if he was trying to act innocent, “I believe I should explain before I continue…”
I could see Rina being inches away from slapping him, but she cooled her temper as Mooks approached her, washing away her anger into Mooks’ fur intertwining between her fingers.
Sylvester thanked Rina for not slapping him, then picked up the frog from the table. “This item is one I’ve been working on for quite some time... I haven’t thought of a name for it yet, but I believe my mind has settled on Speaker. This frog, as you can see, can amplify the sounds that it receives from the rift inside it. I’m sure you all know what a rift is right?”
Mooks shook his head, as did Rina. Weirdly, I was the only one who knew.
“A rift is a device used for communication between two differnet parties. It is the same way Leonidas and the king were able to communicate from such a far distance. The rift inside the frog is tiny, yet the frog can magnify that sound by up to twenty times its original volume.”
“Then what in the hell was it doing in the middle of an alley?” Barked Rina, her blood beginning to boil as she slammed her palms against the table. Mooks’ fur being a stress reliever could only work for so long...
I couldn’t argue with her though. If that was the reason for how she got caught in the first place, Sylvester is all to blame, not the kidnapper. Now that I thought about it, why would it be in the alley? This was also before we even met him; was this all planned? I shook my head to clear my brain, I needed to stop thinking and start listening.
“My dearest apologies young lady,” Sylvester twirled the tip of his mustache with his forefinger. “The frog was put in place for a test I was doing. I needed to see what the adequate locations for the frogs would be, as I needed to make all the pieces come together.” Sylvester grabbed the bottom of the potato bag, then dumped out dozens upon dozens of similar frogs onto the table. “As you can see, my plan is coming together quite nicely.”
“You haven’t told us the plan yet.” I said, my face as plain as my voice.
“I don’t need to. Think of it as an element of surprise.” He chuckled, his fingers clashing against each other as he tried to calm himself. “All we need to do is focus on freeing your…” He paused, knowing that if he said friends again, I wouldn’t accept another apology. “Comrades’ friends. After that, my plan will take full swing, and the final operation will commence.”
I sighed again. This so called plan just seemed so irrational and dumbfounded it was as if a toddler came up with it. Everything from the claims of “My plan has never failed,” all the way to the black frogs, or should I say, Speakers. Everything seemed so out of place I almost got up and left.
However, I didn't. Something inside me urged me to stay for whatever reason. It was like the final knot in my stomach had finally found a solution to untie itself. If this was the old me, I honestly would have left. There wasn’t a single doubt in my mind that I was getting myself into a bigger mess than the one I originally started with.
When I was stabbed and thrown off the boat, I think that was the universe giving me a chance to escape from this madness. Escape and live a life where no one bothered me any more. If I take a step back even further, this all started with the tavern. The only reason I even went inside it in the first place was due to the thunderous storm happening outside, and Mooks wanting a place to stay. I even remember hiding the poor pup beneath my cloak as I waddled inside half past midnight. I guess there were two things Mooks was scared of—the deep sea and grumbling clouds.
I didn’t need to look at Sylvester to know he was reading my thoughts, but the fact that he hadn’t stopped me yet was intriguing. I was expecting for him to say something like, “Don’t leave, the plan is finally coming together.” Or even something like, “You have others that can help you now.”
But no, he remained as still as a statue, smiling, not saying a word. He listened to my thoughts. Examining them. Gathering data based on what I was thinking. This man was smart. Too smart. Dangerous.
I needed to cool off and get some fresh air. I needed to think. No, I needed to breathe.
“Before you go,” Sylvester stopped me, “I would like you to take this,” He reached into the bottom of the empty bag and pulled out a small, brown rectangular object with a black button on one side. The rectangle was about half the size of a pigeon feather, and could neatly fit into any given pocket.
“This is what I like to call a recorder,” Sylvester said as he pushed the button, then let go. Moments later, his same voice repeated back to us from the recorder. “This is what I like to call a recorder.”
I wasn’t impressed—The Twin Tales of Lust were far more interesting than this recorder device. Rina however, nearly dropped her jaw to the floor and beyond as she heard Sylvseter’s voice repeat itself again. I could only guess what was running through her head, and what she could do with such an item.
He tossed it to me, and I put it away before Rina could get a hold of it. “The hell am I supposed to do with this?” I asked him, “Sing lullabies to you?”
Sylvester and Tesla both laughed, but I wasn’t smiling. I never do.
“Use it as you wish,” Sylvester added, “I trust you will know what to do with it when the time comes.”
“Whatever,” I mumbled as my hood took me over again, and I walked out to the streetside.
I took this time to breathe and enjoy the outdoor air. It smelled like dirt and dust, but at least it looked rather clean. The streets in Nirvana always fascinated me. They were kept so clean, and yet they smelled like an unwashed cow. This surely wasn’t the first time I had walked through these streets, and it wouldn’t be the last time either.
There were multiple stands out on the corners of shops selling freshly baked goods and jewelry that wasn’t worth more than a gold ingot. I noticed one of the bandages around my arm come slightly undone, so I fixed it in place. This was odd, they never even came as close to ripping after a bloody night in the sea. Now, all of a sudden, the badange became loose. This was very odd indeed. However, I didn’t believe I should waste my time pondering about such foolishness. Most of my attention focused on the voices around me.
“Fresh bread straight from the baker!” “Come n’ get yer widdlestone here!” “More chains n’ rickets than anywhere else I tell ya!”
Merchants, sellers, shops and anyone else that had things to sell would put up stands, preparing to scam their customer, or get scammed themselves. There was never an equal trade, for one side would always benefit more than the other. That’s how it was in Nirvana, and my miserable life as well.
I took a seat under an overhang in the corner of a nearby butchery. The smell of raw meat was far better than people’s business clogging my nostrils. Every now and then, a guard would walk by, and I would make sure my hood kept my entire face in the darkness. I was not afraid of them, but getting captured wasn’t on my agenda for the day.
That is, until I saw two extraordinary out-of-place men walking up to every shop and every person minding their own business. I couldn’t hear them at first, but I noticed them carrying a piece of paper, and flashing it at people as if it were a work of art by the king himself. “Have you seen this man?” They asked an innocent passerby on the street. The woman shook her head, then scurried off in a hurry.
They asked a few more people on the opposite side of the cobblestone road, then they made their way towards my side of the street. At first, I thought they didn’t notice me, but as two large shadows towered me out of the blue, I quickly realized their gaze pinned down upon me.
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They wore matching green uniforms, from every fiber to every piece of fabric, they looked like a pair of twins. Based on their aggressive demeanor and self-confidence, I assumed they were previously renounced wardens from the Gulag, and one’s that didn’t take too kindly to ignorance or jokes.
“Have you seen this man?” They asked me.
I looked at the piece of paper they shoved in my face, and at first, I thought I was looking at a dirty mirror. Every detail was there, every patch of hair, even down to the color of my eyes; I could recognize that olive green anywhere. It was me... A perfect illustration.
I gently shook my head, but they weren’t leaving. “Pull down the hood,” One of the men raised an eyebrow towards me, his face as stern as a tree stump. “Now.”
I sighed, knowing this was about to get ugly.
Just as I reached for my hood, another voice pierced through my ears. One that was far too familiar to be questioned. “Oh my dear heavens!”
I turned around, and Sylvester was running towards me with the most innocent expression he could pull off successfully. “Pardon my brother,” He whimpered to the wardens, “He’s very shy. Ever since our mother passed, he hasn’t seen the light of day.” His lies and acting were so believable even I seemed baffled by his tone.
He wrapped his hands around me and helped me up, pretending like I was some disabled veteran. I played along, and the wardens seemed convinced enough to stop their further questioning. “Get outta here!” He shooed us off, and Sylvester dropped to his knees, thanking and blessing them on their way.
As they left, Sylvester’s face contorted back into mischievousness. His eyes burned brightly with a defining grin, and he turned to face me with his mustache rolled over his upper lip. “How about you come back inside… Next time, I won’t be here to help.”
He knew I didn’t need his help in the first place, but he also knew that if I acted the way I always do, his plan would fall apart. It would crumble like a stale cake in the cupboard. But his eyes were smarter than his brain. Men with fearsome eyes were always the most dangerous ones.
“So what now,” I asked him, “We just sit and wait till the king shows up again.”
Sylvester smiled, his eyes directly on mine, “Precisely.”
...
As noon rolled about, the streets of Nirvana were more crowded than the king’s novelty social gatherings. It seemed as if any open space around the courtyard was occupied by a civilian or some sort of creature from the capital. Some even seemed to be dressed differently than others, which not only showed they weren’t from around here, but that they traveled all the way to Nirvana on such short notice.
According to what Sylvester told me, it has been quite some time since the previous public execution took place, meaning people were excited and urging for blood to be spilled.
I managed to find a good hiding spot behind the brown rooftops around the courtyard. Tesla and Sylvester were close to the ground, inside the crowd and within the shadows. Rina and Mooks were on a rooftop adjacent to mine, hooded and silent.
The crowd below me screamed and shouted to their heart's content, pounding and stomping their beaten shoes against the cobblestone as the king’s carriage arrived. Behind it, and following its trail, another carriage was placed upon a large wooden cart. This one however, was not as pleasing to look at.
In fact, it wasn’t even a carriage, it was a steel cell with three prisoners inside: Oscar, Paris, and Kalvin. Their hands and feet were tied together, and they looked as if they haven’t had a sip of water in months.
Across from me, I glanced at Rina, her hands were covering her mouth, and her eyes couldn’t force themselves away from her friends. I didn’t know what was going through her head, but it wasn’t anything good. She most likely felt sorry, hurt, disturbed. Maybe she felt all those things, and none of them. Even Mooks seemed to be sharing her pain. I, however, saw three targets we planned to rescue, nothing more.
I tried to mask all the cheers and applause with my full concentration. I needed to focus, pay attention, observe, hear. I needed to do everything except make myself seen. My part of Sylvester’s so-called plan involved me joining the streets if a fight occurred. He notified me that Tesla will take care of the prisoners, Rina and Mooks will quickly gather their escape, and I just watch for anything suspicious to happen. This plan seemed suspicious in itself. It also seemed very uncoordinated and brainless.
This was not a plan of a man who claims to have full-proof plans that work. This was something out of a children’s book that happened to catch Sylvester’s attention. Or so I thought, either way, it was far too late to change course now. Everyone was set in place, and Leonidas settled the crowd as he approached the podium.
“Good afternoon citizens of Nirvana, and righteous people of Harvoria!” He started, reading a script off of some dumbfounded scroll. People from all over howled with excitement and whistled fanatically. They stomped the ground, clapped, and hushed.
“We are all here today to bear witness to these individuals,” He gestured towards the prisoners in the cell, wryly. “And their uncanny acts against the kingdom, terrorizing and tormenting King Richard II, and betrayal to the grateful throne your precious king sits upon.” Men raised their fists and grimmed faces into the air, growling and shouting at the innocent prisoners in the cell. There were even children who threw rocks at Oscar, and Leonidas did nothing except smile, allowing any sort of discrimination against them.
“Today, these three unloyal individuals will be beheaded for their crimes against the kingdom. Their bodies will be disposed of, and may they burn in hell for their actions!” The amount of applause rushing back at Leonidas almost made me shut my ears in disgust. Lies upon lies. That is all they ever did. Lie. Lie themselves out of everything. Worthless blood stools, I thought.
Leonidas made room for a few guards, and they began sounding the trumpets in a very odd rhythm. Meanwhile, a man named Jackals stepped forth from behind the horses, and strolled the metal cell to the center of the courtyard. The only reason I knew his name was Jackals was due to me overhearing Leonidas speak to him earlier during the morning announcement. Also, Jackals was one of the men who stayed by the king before the explosions. He held a great white katana by his side back then, and I see that even after all this time he still hasn’t lost touch with it. Although, it looked an awful lot like Paris’s.
I felt my blood begin to burn. My grip around the roof tiles tightened so hard I nearly snapped a piece off without even realizing it. However, after a few deep breaths and a careful pause, I calmed myself. That was in the past, everything has already happened. There was no need for me to be angry… No need… That’s when the king stepped out, and I nearly ended it all right there. It took all the strength I had to keep me on the roof and not around his throat. Now that the whole capital was watching, this was the perfect time to kill him. I needed to fill the last spot on my arm with his scar. I needed to fulfill my promises.
King Richard II took his sweet time walking out of his carriage. He always liked to take his time. There was never a rush for anything in his life. Everything was always so slow for him; both him and I knew that very well.
As he stepped onto the ground, his red and golden robes strolled along the grey cobblestone like wind in a field. His silver hair comforted gently on his shoulders, and his crown sat perfectly atop his round head. Now that the sun was piqued in the sky, I could easily see the resemblance Leonidas had within his father. They looked far too alike, and yet, they were so different, nonetheless.
King Richard was a self-entitled tyrant who lied, stole, killed, tortured, ruled, and got his ass wiped with all his wealth. Leonidas lied and tortured as well, but he was far too sneaky and mysterious to be anywhere next to his father’s level of devastation. If the king were standing beneath the sun, Leonidas was the shadow behind him. Neither men deserved what they had. Neither one of them deserved anything but pain and suffering.
As the King stepped up to the podium, he began rattling the crowds with the shear smite of his old sunken voice. These people were like babies being fed from a mother's mouth. They ate his lies like candy.
I kept my gaze locked onto Sylvester and Tesla, who were patiently waiting for the right moment to strike. All I needed was their signal, and this noble parade would be put to an end.
Meanwhile, Jackals did the honors of opening the cage, and forcefully dropping the prisoners on their knees in front of all the citizens watching. Oscar and Paris weren’t so bright in their heads, clearly having no clue as to what was about to happen.
Kalvin’s eyes danced around the crowds, and then the rooftops—he saw us clear as day. He smiled, but tried to hide it within the dryness on his face.
King Richard II kept babbling on for what seemed like ages. Anything from, “Today is a day of remembrance and gratitude,” all the way to, “We should mourn these lives in our hearts, gratefully accepting their sacrifices.” It was all just bullshit. I don’t know how long I could keep my composure. It almost felt like he knew I was here, watching him, listening to his words, repeating his phrases in my head…
“Please!” He finally seemed to put an end to his facade of ruthless guilt, “May we honor these lives, and only wish they do not follow the same path in their next!” More applause flew back at him, his smile as bright as his crown.
He then strolled himself back towards the carriage with one of the wardens locked by his side. Jackals slowly approached the prisoners on their knees and unsheathed his katana from the white holster. It was beautiful. The scarlet blade bounced the sun’s rays right off its sharpened edge. It was made out of a material I couldn’t recognize, and looked as if it weighed no more than five pounds at most.
Jackals bowed and showed his blade skills to the citizens by making a few quick gestures into the air. The gasps of excitement and horror came rushing back at him like a giant wave.
First, Jackals made his way over to Kalvin. He smiled down upon him, brushing the blade against Kalvin’s unshaven face. “You first.” said Jackals, bringing the blade skyhigh, and ready for the signal from the King.
Down in the crowds, Sylvester had finally decided it was time for his plan to commence. He made his way towards the front of the crowd, grabbed some sort of black sphere from his pocket, winked back up at me, and tossed it towards the king’s carriage.
At first, no one even noticed him throwing it, as all eyes were on Jackals and Kalvin. However, just before the King was about to initiate Jackals’ swing, the black sphere tapped against his foot, dragging his attention to the ground. “What’s this?” He said to himself, and as the warden by his side noticed it, he screamed a loud, horrific shout of mercy, pushing King Richard II onto the cobblestone.
Boom! A colossal explosion with the radius of two full-sized carriages burst beneath the King’s feet into an array of smoke and ash. Screams of horror and terror could barely be heard, as the explosions caused my eardrums to ring and vibrate annoyingly. I could only imagine what the innocent lives below me had to experience.
People from all over began to rattle through the guards and wildy flare their arms into the air like mad men. Women grabbed their children and began running home, Men were fighting to get a hold of the king, and Tesla pounced onto Jackals within the foggy smoke submerging the courtyard.
The smoke was rising rapidly, and my vision of the king and his warden disappeared through the ash. The ground where the bomb exploded was shattered and broken into pieces, and as my eyes glanced down in the hole—I noticed something I never would have thought even existed—the catacombs of Nirvana were right below our very footsteps. The guards quickly rushed to the hole and blocked any entry, but they weren’t a problem for me anyway. However, the catacombs were not my current target.
“Cairo!” Rina shouted at me from the rooftops, “I know you’re about to jump! Please! Follow Sylveter’s plan, stay up here!” Although her voice was shaking, her face didn’t seem worried. It’s as if she wanted me to jump, which seemed odd given her persona. Nevertheless, I jumped anyway, beginning my march towards that bastard's body, wherever it might be.
As I landed, the smoke burned my eyes like dry ash in a dying fire. Breathing was also a problem, so I wrapped a piece of my cloak around my nose and mouth. Thinking about it now, this scene was far too familiar. I only needed a machete to complete it, but for today, my hands would do the trick.
I approached the carriage in the distance, seeing it torn to shreds and pieces like scraps of papers. The ash was digging into my eyes painfully, making it harder and more demanding to keep pushing through. It’s as if there were pins and needles digging into my field of view, so I planned my steps carefully and with a slight drop of caution.
“RETREAT!” A voice shouted through the smoke—a voice that guided me towards the right path—a voice that belonged to none other than King Richard II.
I quickly jolted to the right, past the cell, and made my way to a small clearing behind the massive crater in the ground. Ash and smoke kept hindering my process, but I finally made it to the giant road leading to the castle.
The smoke was beginning to reside, so I dropped my cloak, and revealed my face to the two men before me, who were none other than the king and his warden standing side by side within a fire on the streetside. At first, I didn’t understand how the king managed to survive. Then, I noticed two empty vials of blue liquid on the ground, giving me the answer I needed.
The king laughed, coughing up pouts of raspy air and inhaled smoke, “You are alive!” He shouted, his smile burning even brighter. “As much as I wish to stay and chat, I’m afraid that I must get going,” He slowly uncovered his arms from the confinements of his robes, showing me that his wooden fingers were blasted apart in the explosion. If only he could physically feel the pain of his fingers crumbling again, I thought.
I squinted my eyes, trying to get my blurry vision into a precise picture of the scene, “You won’t be leaving.” I said, my voice as rusty as the nails that held up the pillars inside the Gulag.
King Richard chuckled, gesturing to the warden beside him to take care of me. Like always, he didn’t seem interested. No matter how much of a theat I was, or would be. He never cared.
The warden unzipped his outfit, rolled back his dark curly hair, and closed his eyes. I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me, or just eager to die. Either way, I wasn’t fazed by such foolishness. Acts of pride always led to a man’s noble death.
Immediately, I loosened the gravity within my footwork, and leaped towards the warden at full speed with my fists gripped tight. The dusty wind blinded my vision, and the cloudy air made me lose a bit of initial momentum I had built up. However, the warden didn’t even move, he just stood there, waiting for me to finally reach him.
With my current speed, I plunged my fist into where his face should be, and nothing but empty air greeted my knuckles. The warden quickly stiffened his palm, plunging it into my solar plexus with a swift motion I never expected.
All the air in my lungs seemed to vibrate through my body, then escaping through my throat in one foul swoop. It’s as if a million ants just crawled atop me, diving into my nerves. I grunted so loudly that no noise escaped my lungs, as there was no noise left to create. My body froze and shattered in midair, collapsing to the ground like a ragdoll.
I didn’t even realize what happened. How did he see through my speed? How could one strike knock me out cold? Was he a Gifted? I had more questions racing through my petrified body, but not enough time to ask them. I tried to get back up and shake it off like it’s no big deal, but my body wouldn't answer me, and my knees wouldn’t accept my request to keep standing.
My vision began to fade as the sweat on my forehead dripped down my temples, and a different feeling entered my brain on the final moments I stayed awake. I don’t know whether it was the king smiling down upon me on the ground, or the feeling of emptiness inside my shallow heart. No, it was a feeling of defeat. Defeat that happens so fast that could lead a man to never fight again. Defeat that crushes your soul down to its final layer. The layer of life between death. And at this moment, I knew I was a dead man. There was nothing left to live for. My life has finally come to a miserable end in this dark, corrupted world.