Cirilius V

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“Ready for our run-in with the law?” Cir joked, grabbing his hat out of habit as he and Smoke headed out of the house.

“Always so intent on running away from the law. Aren’t we technically working for just that?”

“Sure, sure, but I don’t know if that will always be the case.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t question me!” Cir donned his hat dramatically, pulling down the brim in front of his eyes.

“Always did have a flair for the dramatic. Too bad you’re really just a distracted artist at heart.”

“And you’re just a guy who loves to cook. And makes such well-thought out, creative dishes! Axis is constantly complaining to Steele about my cooking, and I happen to know I’m pretty good at throwing things together.”

Smoke chuckled and refrained from responding. Cir looked back at his silver ivy, Hesten, and waved as nondescriptly as he could as they went down the stairs in front of the tall, skinny house and onto the cobblestones of the street.

“I did make quite the dish last night,” Smoke said under his breath, trying and failing to keep a smile off his face.

“I’m impressed you had the energy to make anything at all! I just threw together some pasta and leftover chicken.”

“And this is why you’re the artist and I’m the cook.” Smoke was definitely smug.

“Many people say cooking is an art. Does that make you an artist too? But that wouldn’t do… who would you make fun of then?” Cir asked innocently.

“Cir! Smoke! Time for a quick bite?” Vane asked as they passed by his restaurant, a classy affair with lots of open windows and whitewashed walls.

“Got to meet with the Concord in the inner city,” Smoke responded, “but I wouldn’t mind a quick sandwich if you could throw one together to go?”

“Done.” Vane grinned, his thin frame already turning and picking up a brown paper bag with “Smoke” written across it in equally thin, slanted handwriting.

“And Cir’s lettuce-and-bacon wrap.”

“Thanks.” Cir patted the man on the back and accepted the paper bag with his name scrawled on it.

“I’ll cover it this time,” Smoke said, digging into his pocket and retrieving two gold coin and one silver. “That enough?”

“More than enough,” Vane said, tsking as he scooped the money off the counter and stowed it in his large apron pocket. “But I won’t complain. Go save the city and whatever else it is you do.”

“That works,” Cir responded around a mouthful of food.

“See you tomorrow,” Smoke called out as the two of them, breakfast in hand, walked towards the train station.

“You know, this would be faster if we took horses…”

“Smoke, most people take mobiles nowadays!”

“Horse never runs out of steam.”

“I don’t know if that’s even accurate. Besides, it’s not like it’s a long walk to the station.”

Smoke rolled back his shoulders and said nothing.

“I figured you must like walking. Steele is such a powerhouse when it comes to running, you two must race around all over the place on your own two legs!”

“And you must like horses because Axis does. Cir, sometimes your own logic escapes you.”

“But, on a more serious note, what do you make of yesterday? The warped town, monastery in the middle of nowhere, Outenders that Axis and Steele apparently saw but were unable to describe consistently…”

“Good question. But keep your voice down.”

Cir nodded, glancing around them. He’d been so caught up in their conversation—and his wrap—that he’d been completely oblivious of what was going on around them. And it didn’t hurt that he’d made this same walk many, many times before. Other Persisiens were going about their business. Men and women were also making their way to the train. Mobiles drifted in between the walkers, puffing large gusts of steam in the air as they shuffled forward. There weren’t any four-legged abominations in sight, although they were far more common on the outskirts of town, where roads weren’t paved and mobiles struggled to gain footing.

Two tall men were walking closely behind them, also chattering and eating their breakfast on the walk over to the train. They seemed just as lost in their conversation as Cir had been, so he didn’t think they would notice or care about his conversation with Smoke. But the man on the left, wearing a dark shade of tan and sporting muscles the size of mobile tires? Definitely looked suspicious.

“I wasn’t referring to anyone in particular, Cir. No need to look around as though we were the stars of some warped drama about the end of the world.”

“But what happened wasn’t normal! I thought you’d want to… ok, ok.” Smoke gave him a look that clearly said, “Train. Wait.”

Smoke had changed the conversation around to the exquisite meal he’d made the night before, some exotic dish that Cir couldn’t even pronounce. He made sure to nod and “hmm” in the right places while looking around Persis. He had lived here his entire life, but Axis was from Junia, the city past Lazarenth on their left. The twelve cities of Lore were fashioned in a ring—the middle of the ring was populated by lush, fertile wilderness as a symbol of their united nature. Not having a city in the middle, ordering people around, was supposed to make them equal, but everyone knew the capital of Lore was Elias. The Concord, although they had office buildings spread across the twelve cities, was clearly established in Elias.

Cir didn’t know most of the people thronging around him and Smoke on their way to the various cities. Even though each city housed the same basic necessities, people still had to travel around the different cities daily for their jobs. The train ran constantly, the same tan flow rushing onto and off like crashing sea spray.

He recognized a couple familiar faces and waved at them if they made eye contact. Kilten from around the block. Braden, who frequented Vane’s restaurant. Ethin, his massive form dwarfing the people around him.

“What most people don’t know is that the eggs are marinated with mistbullets…”

“That’s starstraight disgusting, Smoke.”

“Ha! I knew you weren’t listening.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Isn’t this proof that I was listening?”

“You always have to be witty, don’t you.”

“That’s another way of saying I always am!” Cir crowed triumphantly.

“I think I liked you better when you were reserved.”

“That was ten years ago.”

“Ah, the good old days,” Smoke said, grinning.

They were approaching the train now, a massive bullet of steel that ran on a single pole of metal.

“Step right up, Loreians! Get the inside dig on the upcoming Holy Tournament. Who are the contesters? Pick your favorites, even though you don’t know any of them personally. Cheer at the equality, even though we all know the best and brightest all conveniently hail from our dear old Elias! And don’t even think about placing bets! We all know money has nothing to do with this,” the man shouted off rapid-fire, winking as he finished and holding out his hat, which housed a couple copper coin.

Intrigued, Cir took a gold coin out of his pocket and flipped into the man’s hat, taking a folded-up paper from his hand as he did so. The man raised an eyebrow and said nothing, plucking the gold coin from his hat and slipping it through his fingers so fast that Cir lost track of it.

“Holy Tournament! Love it, hate it, salivate on it. It’s not up for a vote, it’s not going away, it’s the religious event of the year.” Quite a few people in the throng glared at the man or pointedly ignored him, but Cir couldn’t take his attention off of him. He’d been taking this hunk of metal for years now and never had he seen this man, or anyone like him, proclaiming nonsense on the train platform.

“Your name?” Cir asked before stopping to wonder whether or not he should be fraternizing with the man. But for someone so eager to parade around strange views, he seemed completely normal. Same regulation tan clothing. Same haircut, short, no-nonsense. But those eyes. They were such a bright blue that they almost clashed with his black hair and pale skin.

“Knight. Just another fool proclaiming the end of the world.” Instead of his prior announcer’s voice and persona, the man, Knight, responded quietly, sharply.

“You getting on the bullet?”

“I suppose I should,” Knight conceded, tucking the rest of his bundled paper into a satchel slung across his chest and joining the flow of people into the train.

Smoke didn’t say anything, his eyes straight ahead, his face carefully void of any emotion.

He’s going to knock the stars out of me. Hoping to have a private conversation about the warping, Corruption, Outenders, and I can’t help but invite a stranger onto the train with us!

“Knight isn’t a common name,” Smoke suddenly said, his deep voice just as quiet as Knight’s had been a moment before.

“And yours, stranger?”

“Smoke.”

“Not quite common yourself. You ever been to the Holy Tournament?”

“Who hasn’t?”

Knight grinned conspiratorially. “How would you like front-row tickets to the show? But don’t answer right now. Let’s find a more… private… location first. Join me in my private booth.”

“Who the Outender are you?” Cir asked, amazed and perturbed by the lanky stranger.

“Knight. I thought we went over this already, chaps. The only one who hasn’t shared who they are is you, conveniently enough.”

“Cirilius, but you still haven’t answered my question—”

“Cirilius Haven? Married to Axis Haven? Fascinating.”

Cir should have found the comment concerning, but Knight seemed just as chipper as always, as though he’d simply been making conversation.

“Hurry up, chaps, we wouldn’t want to miss the train, now would we?” Knight linked an arm through both Cir’s and Smoke’s. The masses seemed to part around Knight like he was one of the holy knights himself. In moments they were boarding the massive train, Knight guiding them to the very back, through a locked door that he opened with his hand, pressing his palm against the metal sheet above the doorknob.

As soon as the door was firmly shut, Knight gestured for both men to take a seat. The room he’d led them to was lavish, thick couches with braided quilts imported all the way from the outskirts of Junia. Bright lights coated in what looked like stars twinkled above their heads, hooked together with metal beams that curved and twisted in an umbrella-like fashion. A woman was occupying one of the couches, defiantly sitting up straight, her posture perfect, somehow denying the powerful pull of the couch’s comfort.

“Meet Paladin.”

“Nice to meet you. Are you Knight’s wife?”

“As if.” The woman’s biceps were toned—she could easily take Cir in a fight—and her tenor voice demanded no nonsense.

“Then how are you here, with us, right now?” Smoke asked, genuinely confused. Cir didn’t understand it either, although the woman, Paladin, looked scary enough that he hadn’t wanted to be the one to ask.

“You’ll find that things aren’t always as they appear. As the Concord wants them to appear,” Knight responded gracefully, taking a seat beside Paladin.

“And please, do sit down. The trip will be more comfortable that way.” He gestured to the couches once more, and Cir and Smoke took a seat across from the strange pair.

“I know you were planning on reporting to the Concord today about what you found,” Knight started.

“We can’t let that happen,” Paladin finished, cleaning under her fingernails as though the entire conversation and situation bored her.

“Why have we never seen you before? We’ve taken the bullet loads of times in the past,” Cir said.

“Are you certain I was never there?” Knight asked, his blue eyes twinkling.

“I guess I was never looking for you… but why would I have been? I didn’t know you.” Cir paused. “Still don’t, actually.”

“It pays to pay attention to those around you, especially those you don’t know. But Smoke would know that, wouldn’t you?” Knight turned his piercing gaze to the large man.

Smoke nodded curtly, his usual jovial demeanor more serious, focused.

“Smoke recognized my face instantly. Knew I’d haunted the same ground around the train many times before. In fact, I’d wager that you never forget a face, is that about right?”

“How would you know that?” Smoke blurted out.

“Oh, I don’t know, but I assumed, given that we had never talked or had any interaction before today, but you still knew my face immediately. It’s impressive—truly a talent to treasure. Develop. Use to your advantage.”

“I’ve known you for ten years, and I didn’t know you could do that!” Cir exclaimed without thinking before abashedly looking down, fiddling with the brim of his hat.

“Honestly? Ponder for a moment before speaking. Didn’t you know all along that Smoke had this gift?” Knight asked.

Cir wanted to roll his eyes at the absurdity of this meeting with two apparent Concord rebels, but he unwillingly started sifting through his memories. Had he known? Smoke had never said anything about it, but he did seem to have an uncanny ability to recognize people, even though he didn’t always seem to remember their names.

“Ok, so maybe, but what does that have to do with the Holy Tournament? Concord? My wife? What we saw yesterday?”

“And how could you know about what we saw yesterday?” Smoke added, his deep voice distrustful.

“I have eyes and ears in more places than most,” Knight responded conversationally. “Paladin, care to elucidate for our two comrades here?”

“I’d rather not,” she said bluntly. Something about her seemed… off. Cir found himself studying her, looking for the detail he was missing. Tall. Deep eyes that seemed almost black. And hair so blonde it was almost white. Half of her hair fell loose around her face, the other half severely pulled back in multiple tiny braids.

“Why is your hair down?” Cir asked, realization finally—painfully—dawning on him.

“About time,” she said under her breath.

“For a man, I’d say Cir was far quicker to notice than most,” Knight replied, looking at Cir with renewed interest.

“You had several questions for me, if I recall correctly. But I think what you really want to know is, why did we choose you two?” Knight put his hands behind his head in a relaxed way, although his body language betrayed his apparent ease. He seemed like a spring, loaded and ready to burst in motion like the bullet they were currently riding.

“Sure.” Good old Smoke—never one to overexplain or overdo it.

“Paladin?” Knight looked over at her expectantly.

“Fine. Let’s get this over quickly. No one else has seen Lazarenth yet…”

She stood abruptly and wrestled Smoke’s hands behind his back, cuffing them into place. Knight seemed almost apologetic as he quickly did the same to Cir. Blindfolds came next.

“And we intend to keep it that way.”