Cole
“Not that you can actually kill a prosopon.” Cole added a pedantic note to Preta’s last words. He had been enjoying the conversation. Talking with strangers was always a gamble, but today it had paid off.
Maya concurred. “I was about to say. You can only inconvenience them at best.”
“You’re well traveled” Cole smiled slyly at Maya. He was certain that he could still earn her favor with enough compliments.
“And you’re still stepping beyond your field.” Maya snapped, her own smile a sardonic mirror of Cole’s. It was overwhelming and caused Cole to turn away. “Don’t academy brats like you have a girl back home you should be pinning after instead?”
Cole was about to give a witty response, but then he actually thought about Maya’s words and froze. Waves of regret washed over him. A memory of orange curls played in his mind. He sheepishly started drawing shapes on the table with his finger. “There is a girl, but she wants someone with more...experience.”
The moment he spoke he regretted it.
“No she doesn’t!” Maya responded, baffled at the boldness of his claim.
Her laughter started low, then escalated to a cackle. “Of all the poor excuses for half-assed bedding attempts I’ve heard ‘I need to use you as practice for my sweetheart’ is by far the most pathetic.”
There was powerful emasculating energy in her tone. Cole looked to Legion as potential aid, but the diablan had wisely put his attention to one of his books.
Maya’s laughter tapered off. “Too bad the Baihu left, they could’ve told you my favorite of their proverbs: ‘Experience and Maturity are not equal.’ If you’re not experienced enough for an academy girl, then you definitely aren’t experienced enough for me.”
Cole nodded that he understood. He would need to change the subject so his embarrassment didn’t linger. He scanned the area for something to call attention to. Their table was on a balcony that looked down on the second and ground floors. The doors to the library were wrenched open and a procession of thirteen people filed in. Eight of them were dressed in cloth uniforms. They broke from the group to seek out different texts. The remaining five were armored, armed, and stayed close together. Two carried kite shields painted with a cut white palm.
Cole snapped his head to Legion, his eyes wide and tone dire. “The Order is here.”
Panic set on Legion’s face. He nearly ripped the hem from his hood with how fast he pulled it over his head. He fumbled with his heavy books, intent on returning them.
“I’ll take care of it.” Cole assured. He had seen the corral at Ramuf, he knew what the Order would do to Diablans. “There’s an exit on this floor. Takes you to the book binder’s shop next door.”
Legion bowed his thanks. Maya had an impressed twinkle in her eye as she looked at Cole and confessed that he “wasn’t so bad.” Cole’s smile was small, and lingered with him long after the two had left. He looked back to the table and sighed. Now he was alone again.
Today was his third day in Spiral City and he was starved for positive interaction. He had been alone on the Serpent Road from Ramuf for two days before joining with The Sons of The Oldest Legion, a coatlmade group of aged veterans after the Cracked Throne. Through singing and storytelling he earned his way into a share of their food and company. They even taught him how to properly use his atlatl. One night their leader had mentioned his approval for Ghetsis Reballo and the Order of Suffering. “Even though he is a human, he may be the one to return some glory to this land.”
Cole talked less with the veterans after that. They had offered him a spot in their camp outside the walls, but Cole refused, lying he already had a place to stay.
Spiral City was massive, perhaps one of the largest cities Cole had ever visited, but he had no idea of what to do with himself other than come to the Pavilion each day to see if Vedek, Frost, Azeroth, and Rerume had made it. It was five days until the Emperor’s Clash began. Outside the library the bloodlust of every armed man and woman was enough to make one collapse from anxiety.
He pulled over one of the arcana books Legion had been reading. He actually didn’t know much beyond the surface understanding of arcana. If he was to become a mage by next year then now was as good a time as any to start learning.
He heard them approach. They were clustered tight and their armor was heavy plate that clanked with their most minor movements. He hoped they would ignore him. That they would walk past his table to whatever section of the library they were seeking instead.
That didn’t happen. The five armored men from the Order of Suffering stopped at Cole’s table.
“A half-elf? This far to the center?” This came from a tall human, one of the two carrying a shield. His face showed tan lines from where his helmet had been. His long neck and lack of chin was reminiscent of a goose. This passing comment caused the other four to stop and examine Cole in turn.
“Good eyes, most people can’t tell when my ears are covered.” Cole mumbled. He chanced a look up from his book. Regret hit him when the first thing he saw was the yellow eyes of Zam.
“I thought you looked familiar.” Zam scratched his chin with a thick claw. “Ghetsis, this is the youth I was telling you about.”
“Ghetsis?” Cole whispered.
A void opened in his gut that rapidly absorbed his confidence. Zam and the goose man stepped aside to reveal an aged human in armor thicker than any of them. It was a well used suit to be sure. The only unscathed piece of it was a stone in the chest piece, howlite Cole suspected, that was half white, half blue. Just looking at that armor made Cole’s shoulders and spine ache. It was because of that armor that it was difficult how tall or bulky Ghetsis Reballo truly was. His head was uncovered, showing thick grey locks combating a receding hairline. His face was scarred with dozens of miscellaneous cuts and scratches. Cheekbones and nose were lumpy, misshapen from repeated blows to the head. Cole actually found it difficult to find his eyes, they were hidden behind so much swelling, wrinkles, and Ghetsis’ bushy eyebrows.
“The half-elf eager to join our ranks once he is of use…” Ghetsis’ voice was sonorous, but on certain consonants it croaked like a pubescent boy. “I remember Zam’s account of you well. He said you were one of the only mercenaries in Ramuf sympathetic to our cause. Must be the Elf in you.”
Cole had to place his hands under the table to they wouldn’t see the fists he was making. “Must be.”
“Are you from Sráid? If so you have my condolences for the recent tragedy.” The goose man said with a small bow.
“I’m not- What happened in Sráid?” Cole snapped up, alert and panicked.
Ghetsis caught his reaction. “King Fellior Ruaidrí has been assassinated. Reliable witnesses say that an orckin deceived his way into the King’s graces, then threw him from the roof of Sráid’s Keep. It’s all very tragic, and so soon after his daughter was returned.”
The other Order members offered their insight into the matter, but all sound faded from Cole’s ears. He felt like he was floating away, lost in troubled thought. An orckin killed the King of Sráid? It couldn’t be Azeroth. Were Frost and Bréag involved as well? There had to be an explanation. There had to be.
Then again, how much did he really know about Azeroth? Azeroth was aloof, he never seemed to have a reason to stick with the group. He refused to give any details about himself. Cole didn’t even know his last name. Maybe he was capable of killing a king and Cole had ignored all the warning signs. Azeroth was an-
Cole shook his head fiercely, stopping that line of thinking. What reason did he have to trust the word or opinion of any of these men? This brought him back to earth.
Ghetsis massaged his jaw as he stared intently at Cole. “Something troubling you lad?”
Cole felt like he was in a lucid dream. He could say anything. “Caballero Reballo, if you win the Cracked Throne, what will become of the Diablans and other such peoples?”
Zam spoke before his master. “What do you mean, ‘other such peoples’?”
Cole gave a casual shrug. He was approaching this as if he was improvising on stage. It was easy to be confident when you tricked yourself into believing there are no consequences. “Phyrn, Baihushen, Orcs, Minotaurs, and so on. Athshin has no shortage of races people are afraid of and it seems that your order has a particular method for dealing with it.”
He received the evil eye from four of the Order members, particularly Zam. Each one started to voice their objections until Ghetsis held up his hand to command silence. With some effort, Ghetsis took the seat adjacent to Cole. It was a marvel the chair remained stable under the weight of his armor. He folded his hands in a prayer-like gesture. “People think I have a disdain for Diablans. I reject that notion. If I have a disdain for them, how could my only engagement of marriage have been to a diablan?”
Cole’s brows dropped. He didn’t know enough about Ghetsis to challenge if that was true or if he was lying for sympathy. Ghetsis didn’t notice Cole’s reaction. He was absorbed in wistful, bitter memories. “Her name was Sahara Hemmings. A traveling enchanter. This suit I wear bears the runes and weave of her spells. We met many times as I moved through the Finis military.”
Cole didn’t know where he produced it from, but Ghetsis passed him a dented locket with the sketch of a diablan girl mounted inside. “I fell for her, courted her, and eventually proposed to her. She accepted. It would have been a spring wedding, if I remember correctly.”
A shadow fell over Ghetsis’ face. “The wedding was delayed because she started acting erratically. The first signs of Infernal Madness. I don’t know what stories you’ve heard of Diablans going mad, but it is seldom safe for those around them. We sought healers, wisdoms, agnosts. All told me preventing the inevitable was a lost cause. I didn’t want to believe it. Never, I think, have I wanted anything more than for Sahara Hemmings to be cured. The final stage took her on a spring day. I tried reason. I tried restraints. None worked, not against the raw infernal power she was channeling. I even tried the oldest method of placing my bleeding palm to her forehead. It didn’t work either. Perhaps my heart wasn’t pure enough.”
The sadness left his expression. His eyes could be seen clearly. They looked like frost covered stones. “Twenty people. That’s how many innocents died in her rampage before I finally did what was necessary. I killed her with my own blade. What I remember most about that moment was how quiet it was after, as I cradled her in my arms.”
The story was sympathetic, but something in the back of Cole’s mind told him that there was a moral being built to, one he wasn’t going to agree with.
Ghetsis was quiet for only a pause. “It was a sign from the gods. No clearer message could be given. Some people, some races, they are simply slaves to their nature. Such people are beyond saving because their inherent corruption is rooted so deep to their being. They are Volatiles sent to rend chaos upon the innocent.”
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Cole found himself reeling back, his jaw slowly gaping. He froze when Ghetsis leaned forward, his eyes very visible now and boring into Cole. “What will I do for the Diablans, the Phyrn, the Murderers, Cultists, Bandits, Degenerates, and all others who are too corrupted? I will kill them. I won’t mince words. They will all die, by my or my follower’s hands. It is only right that we shoulder the burden of so much execution, that’s what ‘Order of Suffering’ means.”
“So I had heard.” Cole swallowed. “What about those who are innocent?”
This caused Ghetsis to lean back. He folded his hands and examined his pressed thumbs. “If they are innocent? Then it is a mercy. They have nothing to fear when meeting the Undying Court. It is especially a mercy for the Diablans and Phyrn. We stop them before their true nature takes hold and forces them into sin.”
“And when there are none of them left?” Cole’s voice trembled.
“Then we can begin to finally rebuild from the Terror.” Ghetsis replied wistfully. There was no sign that the man realized the horror of what he was saying, or that he wasn’t earning Cole’s respect with these words. Cole’s eyes darted to Ghetsis companions. They certainly saw how Cole was reacting. Cole had seen that look in Zam’s eyes before, it was how he looked at the burning bodies of the Phyrn.
“I see. Thank you for answering my question Caballero Reballo, I wish you the strength of all the warriors of Mourning.” Cole spoke quickly. He had to get away from these people. As he stood a frighteningly strong armored hand grabbed his wrist.
“The librarians do not need more work. At least return your books.” Ghetsis said softly. The old man pushed forward the stack of books Legion and Maya had left. He frowned at the book on the top stack: His Secret Ingredient.
“...You were reading this?”
Cole stared at the shirtless man on the cover of that book for the longest time, at an utter loss of what to say.
“Yes. It’s a cookbook. I like to cook.”
Ghetsis accepted that response with only mild confusion. Cole took the entire stack with only a mumbled “thanks” and fled as fast as he could out of the group’s sight. He wanted to leave the library, but the bard in him commanded that he deposit the books in their proper areas. There was still the hope that one of his allies would still show up today. Or would Azeroth not come after what had happened in Sráid? What had happened in Sráid? And where was Rerume? He should have been only a day behind Cole.
The questions swam in his mind as he returned each book to its exact home in the library. The last book was Maya’s bodice ripper. It came from the fiction section on the second floor. He lingered in the aisle for that book longer than he should have. His curiosity drove him to glance at the first few pages of the novel.
“Cole the Wanderer, is that you?”
He dropped the book in his surprise. The second floor had been silent, but that silence was broken by a woman’s voice. He looked to his left and nearly jumped again. It was a tall, willowy woman dressed in an extremely loose white nightdress. Her straw colored hair seemed to idly wisp around her like static was running through her entire body. At first, Cole jumped because the white made him think of the Order, but now that he looked at her proper he was unnerved because of her resemblance to a ghost.
“You are Cole, right? I’m not...I can never be sure.” Her face looked like it had never once cracked a smile. Her voice was what Cole imagined a very small songbird would sound like if it spoke.
Against his better judgment, he replied. “I am Cole, but...have we met?”
That made her perk up, if only a little. “We have. I’m sorry, this must be confusing. I shouldn’t have...I just wanted to meet you. I’ve always been curious about what you were like when you were...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be here.”
The woman grabbed her head. She doubled over, whimpering like a frightened dog. Cole was afraid she would draw unwanted attention. He put his arm around her and cautiously patted her head. He had no idea of what else to do. He looked in every direction for a sign as to what was going on. The woman felt entirely too light or hollow, like she wasn’t fully there, which could also be said of her mental state.
“I’m sorry Cole. I’m so sorry. You never come to visit anymore, and my sister always talks about you. I get so lonely.” Tears slid down her cheeks then evaporated the moment they fell off her skin. Suddenly, she stopped, a childlike wonder spread across her face. “I remember why I chose today. You told me it was the day you decided on your name, the first time you told someone to call you ‘the Wanderer.”
“I told you that?” Cole was baffled. His conversation with Ghetsis could have happened ten years ago for as much as it dwelled on Cole’s mind in this moment.
The woman’s wonder turned to worry. “I hear the ticking. I have to go. I’m sorry I made your day more confusing Cole. You’ve always been good to my sister.”
“Your sister? Lara?” It was the only name Cole could think of that was relevant in this situation. The woman did not respond. She was looking past Cole like a stunned doe. Frustrated, Cole gave her a small shake. “Who are you?”
“Pestilla.” She answered as a whisper. “I shouldn’t have done this.”
She faded from Cole’s grasp. Vanishing into the air around him like fog dissipating. Cole wheeled around, searching for where she had gone or what she had been looking at that made her so scared. What in the Thirteen Hells had any of that been? Was Cole so exhausted and lonely that he fabricated a woman who wasn’t really there?
He needed fresh air.
The roof of the Pavilion featured a terrace where attendants in blue ponchos would serve xocolatl, an Athshin beverage made of spices and coco. A mug of the steaming beverage cost only a few coppers. There were also tables for people to have conversations or to simply look out at Spiral City from five floors up. The Pavilion of Scrolls was pressed between two towers that were only a floor higher than it. The towers were one of the few permanent military buildings of the Red Watchmen. The logic was that if there ever was an invasion, the library had to be protected. There weren’t many people on the terrace. Three old coatlmade were hunched over a patolli board, laying down bets of hoe so they could buy more xocolatl.
The only other two people on the roof were much more interesting to Cole. A wood elf dressed in grey wrappings was puzzling over a game board of automata, also known as Sanaatan checkers. He was playing against himself. What was so striking about him was his snow white skin and piercing pink eyes.
Cole waved to get his attention. “Sorry, are you an albino?”
Seconds after he had spoken an armed elf stepped between him and the albino. She raised a steel gauntlet on her right hand that had a buckler shield fused to it. Except for her black glossy hair, she reminded Cole a lot of Lara, save for the intimidating, unblinking stare she had. The albino elf looked up from his game quite casually. He weighed the decision of intervention like it was a move on his automata board.
“Billis, stand down.” He commanded coolly. Like a fire being doused, the elf straightened and returned to the albino’s side. The only thing that didn’t change in her behavior was her expression, which remained flat.
“I didn’t mean to intrude,” Cole ripped his eyes from the woman, “who are you?”
The albino looked up again, regret over his decision to spare Cole showed in his grimace. “I am called Tohl Bahn. Yes, I am an albino. You may go now.”
“Do you need an opponent for your game?” Cole asked. It was courting danger, but after his previous three encounters today Cole felt just about anything could happen by talking to a stranger.
“Do you know automata?” Tohl asked. He was no longer annoyed, perhaps he was even a little hopeful at finding a challenger.
Cole took a cautious step forward, glancing at Billis as he did. “I played it once, long ago. I still remember most of the rules.”
Tohl toyed with a stack of the coin-like game pieces as he thought. Billis stood by him like a statue. Maybe that was how Cole hadn’t noticed her before; she moved so little that she blended with the environment. “It will have to do. I am starved for competition that is not myself. Sit. I can tutor you in what you have forgotten.”
Cole took his place opposite Tohl. The white elf returned each piece of his current game to its proper position at the side of the board. “Automata is the only game I find stimulating enough to play in succession. I played it every day when I lived in Finis. It’s based on the Moloch Wars, you know. Which General do you prefer?”
“I’ll take the Pashindra Cleric.” Cole lifted a token marked by a lightning bolt bound by jagged chains. “So you came from Finis, not Fae’Riam or Old Vadalis?”
“I was born in Vadalis, but I scarcely lived there long enough to call it home.” Tohl chose a token painted with a gear and hammer. “I will be the Yantakara.”
They set their initial pieces on the board. As Cole was playing the Pashindra Cleric, he had to set his pieces in a way that he could eventually move them into the designs needed for casting miracles. Tohl theoretically had unlimited pieces, as the Yantakara could produce more every other turn. Tohl let Cole move first.
Automata allows you to take two actions on your turn. Cole moved his soldiers closer together. “Why are you here in Spiral City if you’re from Finis?”
Tohl used his first turn to advance directly for Cole’s General. Now that the game had begun he would only look at the board. “I am here, with Billis, to observe the Clash.”
“And Billis is...your bodyguard?” Cole arranged three of his pieces into a chevron, the symbol for the game’s “stormwind haste” miracle and the easiest for the Pashindra Cleric to perform, but he could not cast until next turn.
Tohl seemed unperturbed by this and simply used his own General to produce more soldiers, more Bhuta-Yanta. “She is. I need protection from those who would take advantage of me. As an albino, you must know the kind of power I hold.”
“Power? I’ve heard Athshinians believe albinos magic, but that’s not true.” Cole tapped the chevron of tokens. “I cast haste, by the way.”
Tohl glared at the board. He moved his soldiers forward to blockade Cole’s quick advancement. “...And how would you know?”
“Because I met an albino back in Theorainn. She definitely wasn’t magic. The Athshin myth dates back to the Teotl meeting Elves for the first time and being baffled by their arcana. So fair skin became associated with powerful magic. I’m a bard, well, a student bard. The first thing they made use read was the Pantheon Wars section of The Saga of The Serpent.”
For the first and only time, Tohl’s pink eyes looked up from the board to examine Cole’s face. “A half-human. Should have guessed. Academy student on an autumn break. Perhaps I don’t have any powers, but keep that to yourself or Billis will cleave your skull.”
Cole laughed, thinking it a joke, until he saw Billis looking at him, looking through him. “Understood. If that’s how you make money, then I won’t stop you.”
After Cole made his move, Tohl winced and aggressively put Cole’s piece back to its original position. “You can cast lightning if you move there instead.”
Cole’s eyes glazed over the crowd of tokens before him until he saw that Tohl was correct. Four of his pieces formed a diamond, they just needed a fifth at the base. “Thanks for that, I suppose I should have chosen a general that wasn’t so symbol reliant.”
Tohl didn’t respond, perhaps he didn’t want Cole to give him an easy game. The next few moves were in silence. While Tohl puzzled over a difficult decision Cole looked at the city skyline. At the street level was an Order preacher flanked by banner bearers. He was shouting in New Quetzal to every coatlmade that passed. The sight turned Cole’s stomach.
“You’re from Finis, you must have seen the Order rise to power. How do you feel about...their goals?”
Tohl didn’t react at first, still drawn into the question of whether he should break Cole’s advancing line, or retreat to protect his General. “You mean their aggression towards the beastly and infernal races?”
“Yes. That.” Cole looked back to the board, but now that he had seen the preacher he couldn’t deafen his ears to the shouting. Tohl made his decision, moving his pieces deeper into Cole’s side of the board and taking several of his pieces in the process.
Now it was Cole’s turn to puzzle. Tohl relaxed in his seat. His eyes briefly flitted to the preacher below, but he had no sizable reaction to it. “If such races are worried, then they need to toughen their hides to such criticism.”
Cole kept his anger under control. He had heard so many similar statements in so many days that he was afraid he might become numb to them. “The Phyrn fought the Teotl before the first coatlmade, so did the Diablans, and they’ve been fighting for survival against every ruler of Athshin after. I think they’ve been made plenty tough, and have been for a long time. I’d hazard to guess that the average ‘beast’ or ‘infernal’ have lived harder lives than either you or I.”
He made his move, no longer worrying about the game. He had to draw back from the intensity that Tohl slammed his piece down.
“Don’t assume to know my life.” He growled.
Cole nearly fell out of his chair when he saw that Billis had manifested beside him, still looking at him with those dead eyes. Tohl restrained himself. He pointed to several pieces on the board “This game is over. Your only defensive action is to move there, your pieces are too scattered to form any miracles of worth, and I still have a shell of loyal automatons protecting my General.”
Everything he said was true, as far as the game went. Cole carefully got up from his chair and away from Billis. Tohl’s eyes flared an abnormal hate. “If your bardic stories have taught you any wisdom, then you’ll remove yourself from my sight.” He pointed to Billis, who started to unsheathe the falchion on her back.
“I’ll do that.” Cole agreed. He stepped back towards the staircase below. “-But one piece of advice, from one actor to another, you have an awful habit of locking up when your lies are called out.”
Tohl smiled, the first smile Cole had seen him make. It was an expression that looked unnatural on his face. “I’ll keep that in mind. You know, I never caught your name.”
Cole looked Tohl dead in the eye. He felt like this wasn’t the man to tell his true name to. “You can call me Cole. Cole the Wanderer.”
The response made Tohl do a double take. He was looking at Cole with more suspicion than before. Cole didn’t linger to exchange any other retorts. Billis scared him on a primal level. He decided he would return to what he originally planned and leave the library for the rest of the day. If any of his allies came today, then surely they would have the sense to come tomorrow as well.