Izai and Olav scanned the Netai Stadium from their box seats. The twilight sky had begun to darken, and the massive stadium lights now illuminated the grassy pitch below. The hum of conversations grew louder as Kin from all corners of Aradahi filled the seats. Among them were mainly KinFolk, specifically Folk like Izai and Olav. The stadium also hosted the largest gathering of KinTaurs that Izai had ever seen, the sound of their hooves reverberated throughout the stadium. Here and there, Izai could spot a few KinAkila.

“Enough to make the Global Council of Unity proud,” Izai elbowed Olav.

“You think Remi will off us?” Olav replied.

“He’ll probably use his doubles to beat the shit out of us while he smokes a cigar.”

Olav turned and looked at Izai with wide eyes, his leather jacket crunching loudly in the process. “What kind of cigar do you think a man like that smokes?” he asked.

“Only the finest from Arukineos,” came a voice behind them. It was Remi, flanked by two Rosea women. “Or what do they call it now?” He snapped his fingers.

“Etero,” one of the women answered. She wore a jacket with the sharpest shoulder pads Izai had ever seen.

“Poor Akilaling,” the other lady said, exhaling a puff of smoke from her cigar. “Stuck with that dipshit despot Malo as a leader.”

Izai felt sweat bead on his forehead, and he noticed Olav’s chest rising and falling visibly. Remi settled into his seat, crossing one leg over the other, and bobbing his head to the music. He snapped his fingers for a drink to be brought to him. “Not up to date with politics, huh?” he asked.

Izai felt the words catch in his throat, struggling to push them out.

“I can’t really blame you Folk,” he said with a smile. “The only politics you care about are whatever bullshit the Republic or the Coalition are fighting about. Nothing beyond that.” A moment of silence followed as he lit his cigar, and waved the match in the air to extinguish it. As he exhaled, he said, “There’s a world outside of Iradi, you know.”

Izai stepped forward. “I want to apologise about last night.”

Remi waved it off. “No problem kid. No problem at all.” He leaned forward. “What you showed me is that you think quickly on your feet and always have an exit plan.”

Izai felt slightly relieved.

“I’ve fixed that whole situation with the guards and burnt hallway. Don’t worry about it,” Remi continued. “Now I need you to show me that you can move in silence.” He paused, surveying the now nearly full stadium. “He’s in Section 207, Row F, Seat 22.”

“Thank you,” Olav mumbled as he adjusted the strap on his satchel.

“Huh?” Remi tugged on his ear trying to catch what Olav had said.

“I said, thank you,” Olav repeated, slightly louder.

Remi held up his two blue fingers. “That’s how many more chances you’ll get from me.”

From a vantage point in an upper deck, Izai scanned the crowd for the Folkling. The crowd’s chant grew louder, and the sight of the Alpha Asili’s Taur supporters in red mingling with the SolarFrost Saints’ Folk fans clad in blue created a swirl of colours that momentarily swayed Izai’s attention.

“He’s not there,” Olav spoke.

‘I know a gambling degenerate when I see one,’ Izai thought.

They marched towards the gambling booths, weaving past the drunken crowds of KinTaurs singing some chant from Kara:

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‘Oh Tatu, is it true?’

‘That you chose the Taur,’

‘To be closest to you.’

Tai stood in line just as Izai had predicted. They watched him place his bet, buy a drink, finish it, and then head for the bathroom, with his head titled to one side whistling a tune. The timing was perfect – only one Taur was inside, and he left just as they entered.

Izai nodded to Olav, who slowly pulled the Frost-Sap blanket from his satchel.

“Careful with that Pulser, no? Touch that and your Pulse strength gone,” Tai said, shaking off the last drops of urine. Olav lunged at him, but Tai vanished, reappearing at the sink to wash his hands, still whistling.

“All day you can follow and I’ll still run,” he smiled.

“We know where you’re sitting,” Olav steadied himself.

“Just give the man his money,” Izai said.

“Which man?” he raised an eyebrow. He looked at Olav’s satchel. “Ahh… You must be working for Ima Anai’s crew. Makes sense. Makes sense.”

“Are you going to pay it back?”

“Of course. Man must always pay what he owes, no? I expect that from those who owe me money.”

“And when will you pay it back?”

“Today. Follow me.”

They tailed Tai to the deck overlooking the pitch. The stadium shook with the crowd’s stomping and chanting. The two IronBlitz teams were warming up. The Alpha Asili, KinTaurs from Harekara, looked sluggish, while the SolarFrost Saints, Polassa’s own team, were more energetic.

“I heard the Alpha Asili party too hard last night,” Tai said with a slick smile. “Drank drinks that were stronger than drinks from Harekara,” he winked.

Tai made his way down the stairs. A Taur with shaggy fur and ivory horns wrapped his tail around Izai’s wrist.

“Sorry,” the Taur said, unwrapping his tail. “Who did that dude to say to bet on?” He nodded to Tai.

Izai felt suspicious. “The Alpha Asili,” he lied. “Apparently there’s in-fighting among the Folk from Yimani and the Folk the Iradi Coalition.”

The Taur beamed a smile and gave his thanks.

The game began with a great Silver Ball placed in the centre of the pitch. It shone so brightly that it commanded every one of the players’ attention as the two teams lined up on either side. The Silver Ball was so heavy that even a Pulser could only carry it for moments before needing to pass it on. Yet, it was effortlessly handled by a MegaAkila referee, who tossed it into the air.

Two of the opposing skippers – a Porenadi lady with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and a Taur with long horns curving from the top of his skull to the corners of his mouth – leapt to claim the Silver Ball. The Folk managed to win it by striking it back to her team, who then passed it backward, aiming to advance it into the final third. There, a kicker would attempt to score by aiming the ball into the side-facing goal.

It wasn’t long before the KinTaurs, with their powerful midfield, had taken control of the game and were 2-0 up by halftime.

“Hmmm,” Tai murmured, rubbing his chin. The Folk’s boos drowned out the Taurs’ cheers as the teams headed to the locker rooms.

Izai winked at Olav, who let a corner of the blanket slip out of the satchel, brushing against Tai’s lap.

“That’s not how that works, kid,” Tai said. “Remi let you go through security with that eh?” He looked around waiting for the Folk boys to respond. “Is irresponsible? The owners of the stadium find out, its bye-bye to the protection money, yes?”

The second half began with a few changes. While the Saints midfield in the first half had featured a team of all Folk like Izai and Olav, they had now allowed a Folkling to enter. She spent the second half darting up and down the pitch, her white hair blowing in the wind. By the final whistle, the scoreline read 3-2 in favour of the Saints.

“I can’t believe it,” Olav said as the cashier counted Tai’s winnings.

“Never doubt me,” he said, tapping his temple with a palm full of fresh Yibi.

“15 000 Yibi. Not bad for a day’s work, Tai,” the cashier said, splitting the money into different piles. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re guiding some of these results.”

“What? You take me as some son of Tatu. I am not that clever,” he laughed. He handed two piles of money to the duo. “Here’s a 1000 Yibi each for you. For your troubles. Go get something nice. Some Air-Boards, or Gale-Skates. Whatever you kids like these days.”

“How old do you think we are?” Olav asked.

“15?”

“19.”

“A bit too old to get into a life of crime, no?” Tai paused, squinting at Izai. “Ah, Garayi’s boy.” He seemed satisfied, as if something had been gnawing at him all along. “No wonder those lost brown Hanu eyes seemed familiar,” his accent shifted, and he spoke more comfortably in the Common Tongue now. “After everything that’s happened, do you think this is the life he’d want for his only…”

As Tai spoke, Izai felt his fingers twitch with agitation, and the air around him crackled. Warmth boiled up inside him, urging to escape. Before he could stop himself, he was already halfway through a punching motion, sending a burst of fire toward the Folkling. Tai twirled the flame until it dissipated. The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at them.

Tai grabbed the rest of his money. “Well, tough shit, son. Now your boss gets nothing.” With that, he vanished into the thin air.