The Centre, as it was known, wasn’t yet packed. It was busy and people moved around everywhere in the large oval-shaped cobble-stone space. It wasn’t the center of the city at all. It wasn’t even the predominant market center. That was some blocks away, nearer to the slums and river docks.

No, the Centre was the intersection of seven streets that had been opened into a rather large area with a large fountain closer to the southern edge. In the middle of the fountain was a pedestal with a ring of statues that depicted the Seven facing outward to the Centre. The Seven were seven heros from nearly two millennia in the past that were said to have banished the Fae, the Daemons, and all magic from the world. Four were men, and three were women. Each stood in a regal pose. From the base the statues stood on sprouted a row of gentle streams. Another spout of water rose high from the center of the ring and spread outward above and over the statues. It was all made of expensive marble. Black with white streaks for the base and bowl; white with black streaks for the statues. The Fount of Heroes was carved in letters large enough to circle the entire bowl.

Along the edge of the Centre, in between streets, were various buildings. A bank took up the whole space on the southern side, nearest to the Fount of Heroes. To the left was a bakery. It too took up all the space between the streets on either side. That bakery was known as the best in the kingdom, and by all the fragrances of sweets, savory breads, and other confections that Dominique could smell, she would believe what people exclaimed. She paused before it, eyeing some of the lovely desserts on display in a case by the window. Her mouth watered, despite having already eaten.

She continued her lazy stroll along the edge of the Centre. For all the world she looked like another young woman out to enjoy the revelry and annual celebration to commemorate those seven ancient heroes. The sound of boots and heels was a constant clattering around her. Along with snippets of conversations, a young woman laughing perhaps a bit louder than necessary at the wit of the gentleman whose arm she clung to. Her own shoes gave dull thumps as she walked past a clothing store and shoe store buddied up between the next two streets. A vendor had a stall set up in front of the stores.

Dominique eyed the lovely jewelry displayed on the table and shaded from the high summer sun. Gems glittered among intricate designs of silver and gold. She didn’t linger, even though the short and stout vendor called to her in an attempt to peddle his goods. She simply smiled and shook her head as she walked away from him. Then she turned her gaze toward the people out in the middle of the Centre. Soon the entire area would be so full of bodies that everyone there would be brushing up against the others around them.

For now, it was still easy to navigate around people and move freely. Dominique’s swung slightly at her sides. She passed by a few more stalls and more stores around the edge of the Centre. She eyed the wares with mild interest, but always politely declined any solicitations. Repeatedly, her gaze drifted to a man in front of her, also strolling casually along the stalls.

He was an unusually tall man, looking even taller with one of the ridiculous tall, black top hats favored by some of the older and wealthier men. It was an absurd fashion in Dominique’s opinion, but who was she to question it. Light chestnut brown hair, speckled with strands of gray, hung from below the hat and was pulled back into loose tie at the base of his skull. He must have had it trimmed up recently as the ends all fell neatly between his shoulder blades. He wore a nicely tailored suit of pale green and black shoes the clopped with each step. The clothes were expensive, but not overly rich. They lacked any flowery embroidery or fine patterning that displayed true wealth.

He walked with his hands in the pockets of his pants causing his arms to rest bent and slightly cocked outwards. A man at complete ease, perhaps even over confident. When he turned his head to nod a passing greeting at a pair of more finely dressed young women who fluttered they fans a little faster and hurried by with demurely bowed heads, she could see the profile of his sharp, slightly crooked nose and the arrogant was he smiled. He acted as though he had everything in the world and that the gods themselves would bow at his feet if they even existed.

Dominique narrowed her eyes, and as the girls passed her a few steps later, she could hear their uncomfortable whispers. They were barely old enough to be considered grown women, and that man was clearly well into his 40’s. Disgusting.

She continued to follow him. When he stopped to look at a stall selling merchandise advertising gear and souvenirs for the Daerune run today, she would get within ten paces and then stop as well. Sometimes she would look to the nearest stall as well, feigning some more interest, or merely look around as though trying to find someone. Mostly her eyes kept spearing through the crowd. Nikkita still hadn’t arrived yet. Her twin was due to be there soon.

When the man moved along, she would wait for a few more seconds before strolling along again as well. She didn’t stare fixedly at him. That was far too obvious. Other people would be more likely to notice such concentrated attention, not to mention that some internal instinct in people made them look around when such focus was fixed on them. Perhaps an old fear from old times when such attention usually came from a predator that was stalking.

That was irrelevant. Dominique kept her eyes scanning. Sliding from one person to the next in the Centre. She only watched closely enough to keep the man in her sights.

She was passing by a tailor shop that was advertising a sale now. It was near the north most street. A few feet out from the street entrance was a large platform about four feet tall. Tall enough that anyone standing on it would be easily seen by everyone in the Centre, even at the far end, and more importantly they would be clearly heard throughout as well.

That was where the Master of Ceremonies, Argullas Svellen, would give the annual speech about the celebration. He would again recite the tales of the fae, the deamons, the war, and everything about why this day was a celebration. Then he would announce the events of the day. The Daerune would begin after his speech, and likely continue nearly to the evening party.

The Daerune was a multilevel maze held once every year at the midsummer celebrations. Not only did it have two or three levels, it was also constructed into rings. These rings were rotated by some sort of machinery that only the gamemasters knew how to control. That information was staunchly guarded. The rings rotated in a rhythm, but that rhythm varied each year. Anyone that part took in the Daerune, usually called a Hunter or a Huntress, had to deal with more than just the shifting maze. There were also traps set up to hinder them. One the upper levels, there were even trap doors that would drop a person back to the level below.

Spectators flocked to the Darune. Legend held that the Heroes themselves had set up the game and each took their own turns navigating the obstacles until they won and earned the title of *Champion.

Simply competing in the run of the Daerune was considered a noble feat, winning it was almost an act of heroism itself. It wasn’t especially dangerous, but people could die if they were too careless. The prestige of it alone, however, could earn a person great status, and there usually was no shortage of people wishing to try. There were many openings for people to run, as each round consisted of seven people starting at different points and went until one of them reached the top and claimed the victory *flag.

After the Daerune there would be some peace and quiet as people readied themselves for the evening party. A ball held throughout most of the city. All restaurants and taverns left their doors open, music played from within them. Some musicians would play on the streets. People would be everywhere. It was a marvelous display of controlled chaos. At midnight, a display of fireworks would be launched from the Centre. That usually marked the beginning of the end of the revelry. Many people would retire after that. Many would also continue to celebrate as long as there was music and drinks to be found.

Rumor had it that the party this year was to a be a Masque.

Dominique stopped and turned to study the platform and the people around it. Now to her left and slightly behind her, the tall man was standing among a group of other older men. She was close enough that she could hear their conversation. She eased into a comfortable and relaxed position, letting her gaze wander idly as if waiting for someone or something. She wasn’t really looking at anything in particular, though in her periphery she could see them. Her focus was on listening.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Argullas reached out to the man she was following and shook his hand vigorously, “Ah, Caspius, my friend. How are you today? Is the Daerune all set for this afternoon?” He was an aging man, his short cropped hair hair was all gray and white, wrinkles filled his face around his mouth and light brown eyes as did a few age spots. However, he spoke and moved with vigor that was suited to someone much younger as he continued speaking and answered his own question, “Of course you are. Fortune favors us for such a fine day to celebrate. Will you be attending the evening events?”

Caspius chuckled at the older man. His grin was on the sly side and he returned his hand casually to his pocket “Fortune does favors us. It is a marvelous day for what I and the others Masters have planned for the games. I should not like to spoil the surprise, though.” His words did not match his tone, which said he very much wanted to tell all about it, and would if coaxed just a bit.

Dominique refrained from scowling at his audacity. “Although, I did not see as many prospective players as I had anticipated,” his expression became a frown that mirrored his disappointed words.

“Ah, indeed! I would prefer to see it with unbiased eyes. It is a surprise and a shame to hear that people are not stepping forth to run.” Argullas reflected with a sympathetic frown. “I wonder what why that is and if it will affect the number of spectators.”

“Oh, we have carefully kept quiet about the lack of entries,” Caspius quickly assured him.

Argullas looked a little relieved at that, but still frowned in concern, “I hope it isn’t from those pesky disappearance rumors. They have been increasing lately. Ever since that farming community vanished nearly a year ago.” He quickly cut himself off as if he didn’t want to breathe more life into those rumors.

Now a younger man with similar light brown eyes broke into the discussion, “Indeed. We relied heavily on that farm; it was nearly a disaster when the supply trains arrived and the fields were half dead and nothing had been harvested. Everything was just left. Several fields looked like they were halfway through expanding, and other areas were clearly marked for new fields to be developed. If we lose money on the Daerune it could be nearly as bad.” He wasn’t smiling as he spoke, and his whole demeanor was somber. He even shook his head, despairing at the idea of losing such an enterprise.

Caspius frowned, and looked out on the Centre. Dominique turned and walked passed them to a store just across the street from them. She turned to face the window and angle her head carefully to be able to study the men better. She was more to the side of the group and from her new angle she could study Caspius more closely. His eyes were a limp, light blue color, and with his well tailored clothes she could tell he was still fit, if not as much as in his youth.

She already knew much about him. Years and years ago he had participated in the Daerune. He never actually won, but he tried year after year on every occasion it was held. Until age caught up with him and he took a nasty fall. After he healed his performance were never the same. It didn’t take him long to just quit entering. After that, he began working his way into the ranks of officials that monitor the players. From there he schemed his way onto the planning committee. It had only been a couple of years since the previous High Master passed away to the shock of many, Caspius Morrowan was selected to replace him.

Her master had coveted that position for many years already and had originally been favored to take it. When Caspius was the one named, he had been furious, but the man’s sudden death so soon would have been suspicious. So, the master had waited. Luck was with him as Caspius began to set up his own downfall by breaking some of the most sacred rules of the Daerune council. Caspius was selling key information about it to certain people and rigging some rounds to his profit.

Dominique suspected that the reason her master was overzealously outrage at the was because he had planned to do the same thing.

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Caspius shrugged, “People crave the attention and the excitement of it too much. We’ve had years in the past were participation declined, but it always came back up. There is little greater honored than the Daerune after all.

“I would be more concerned about that farm. Even I have been hearing a great deal more about people vanishing. Just the other day, I heard that a prince from the Kothen Empire disappeared. Everyone there is in an uproar about it. They’ve even shut down the borders.” Now he took off his hat and ran a hand over his hair. He had a surprisingly high forehead, and his hairline was receding just above his temples creating a sharp widow’s peak.

“I will worry about the Daerune! Honestly, if it were to shut down, we would suffer an unprecedented recession,” The younger man spoke again. This time his manner was a little more aggressive. His eyes narrowed at Caspius. “I’m not so certain that the council shouldn’t begin finding alternatives to the games. It is a wildly outdated custom. We can keep it around for awhile longer, but we should use our time now to find another revenue to replace it should that one fail.” He folded his arms across his chest.

From his tone, Dominique got the impression that he had argued this many times already and been refused. It also seemed that no one had yet given him a convincing enough reason to let it go either.

Argullas gave him a stern look. She could tell they were related, father and son. They were of similar height and stocky build with matching eyes. “Enough, Micah. You’ve brought this up in council more than enough already. We all know that the games go through rough times just as everything else does. It will be fine.” He looked back to Caspius, his expression immediately lightening and he smiled, “Do you suspect that we shall see any competitors as exciting as those two spectacular girls from last year?”

A slightly startled laugh broke from Caspius, “Ah yes, those two were something to watch. I have found some rather unsettling information about them, however. It seems they may be slaves.” Instantly he became sober and irritated. Slaves were not considered worthy enough for the Daerune and if a slave was found out, their master would be punished for it. Dominique had seen one lose his title and everything for it.

She narrowed her own eyes and took a few steps closer, now leaning against a lamp pole on the corner. She folded her arms over her chest and made herself look bored. Just a girl waiting for things to move along. Her every fiber however was narrowed on the men and their conversation.

“No!” Argullas and Micah both exclaimed. Each took a step back and their faces were a mixture of shock and horror.

Argullas collect himself first, “You can’t be serious. Do you have any idea who their master is? Does the rest of the council know and have you decided what to do?”

Caspius sighed and ran his hand through his hair again, “No, I haven’t been able to confirm that they are slaves just yet, but I have some strong evidence. I suspect who their master is, but again I haven’t confirmed it yet. If I am correct it will not be an easy situation.” He paused to huff out tense breath and shake his head, “It’s all very delicate, and this is one time I can’t bring it up to the council until it is nearly unquestionable who they are.”

The other two men frowned, “It isn’t right to put a slave in the games. By law they don’t even have a right to any of their winnings. It’s an unfair gain to the master and must be dealt with quickly,” Micah was scowled severely at Caspius. “You need to take it to the council now and deal with it.”

“Yes,” agreed Argullas, his own face reflected concern. “I don’t see what is making you wait, Caspius. Unless...” He went a little pale as he looked at Caspius.

Caspius nodded gravely but the movement was kept small, “You see my predicament and why I must deal with this very carefully and prove it all without a doubt.”

The other two shared a look. Micah seemed confused and rather angry, “I don’t understand.”

“Hush, boy. Let it go for now. Just keep me informed, Caspius,” Argullas finally sighed. “Now, I am afraid that noon waits for noone and I must take my leave now.” He nodded his head politely before going to the platform and straightening his clothes.

Micah fumed silently at his father’s retreating back, but said no more.

Dominique studied Caspius and Micah. Now that the old man had left, the air between the two had become tense. They looked each other over closely. There was a silent battle of dominance playing out if they’re postures and unwavering narrowed eyes meant anything.

Micah broke first, “Well then. Good day, Game Master.” With that he turned and walked away not even waiting for Caspius to bid a farewell.

Caspius didn’t even acknowledge the younger man’s departure. Instead he watched the crowd and replaced his hat upon his head. She realized that it while it made him look ridiculously taller, it also hid the receding hairline and widow’s peak making him actually look a bit younger. His eyes were still that limpid blue tone, but they gleamed somehow. Then his lips curved into a smile that seemed somehow cruel. She turned away and made to mingle into the crowd, awaiting her sister’s arrival.

‘I am a block away.’ Nikkita’s curt voice darted into her thoughts just at that moment.

She missed as his gaze fell upon her figure and watched her leave.