A week; that was how much time I had before I had to be on battle representing Uderach Kayeket as his champion. If I were to go back in time and told my morning self that I would be a torviela’s champion I think he would’ve killed me right then and there to save me from the thing I will become.

The deal was information for my assistance. He thought he could offer me the information after the fact, but I wouldn’t have it. The information had to be given the moment we struck the deal, otherwise, the deal was off. I can be a master of the negotiating arts sometimes, and this one was one of those.

“And you believed him,” Tedet said, as he drove us on his car. One more good thing about him is that he has transportation available at all times. I choose my friends wisely.

“He gave his word, on his name and his family name,” I said. “That he wouldn’t lie about it. That’s a vow that can’t be broken by them.”

“I don’t like torviela,” he grunted.

“You’re an alchemist, you don’t like anyone,” I said before correcting myself. “But then, nobody likes them, anyway.”

“And vampires,” he continued. “I like those even less.”

“Tell me about it.”

Just like vampires, torviela have a family structure. The head of a house is either the Father or the Mother of a vampire cluster, those that were directly or indirectly converted into them. Anyone converted by any of them would answer to their orders, following up the chain in command. The only way houses can break apart to form new ones, is by killing the Parent. Leaving the house without a head would naturally split the house into pieces.

To maintain stability, a Parent has a maximum of three direct descendants, and going down the line the Children could get more than three but it isn’t normally advisable. The house grows with each consecutive addition. The power of a Parent is equal to the quantity and quality of their descendants.

“A week,” he said, turning the conversation back on track.

“We need to find my nephew,” I said. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take but we can’t stay still.”

“Did he tell you exactly what for?”

“Uhm…” I was at a loss for words. I was so focused on the information that I didn’t ask him. “Well, I know through context clues that he wants me to represent him.”

“But you don’t what you’re representing him at and to whom,” he said firmly. Sometimes, when a normal person would be making a rhetorical question, Tedet would just make a statement. He disliked beating around the bush.

“I can ask him later, my nephew comes first.”

“And when is that going to be?” he asked, this time it was rhetorical. Okay, maybe he does make rhetorical questions, but it depends on the context. “Tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to rub it in,” I said displeased, huffing as if I had found it disgusting.

“What did that mean?” he asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Erm… rub it in -- that you don’t have--”

“No,” he interrupted. “That groaning sound you made?” He was visually confused. Interesting. “What do humans make of it?” He made a weird and horrific, raspy groan. “What did that mean?”

“You are trying to emulate my huffing?” My face probably looked worried while looking at him. It surely sounded nightmarish.

“Huff? Is that what it was?” he asked, casually.

“Displeasure,” I explained almost aghast. “There needs to be some kind translation for these things. I don’t want to hear you, ever again, trying to huff.”

He made the same horrific sound, but this time he put effort into making it sound worse. I don’t know how he knew what he needed to do to make it sound that bad to human ears. He cackled and slammed a hand to the steering wheel. Oh, and yes, he is the type of weirdo that likes driving their own car.

“Sure, keep making fun of the hairless monkey,” I tried to be laidback to make him lose interest in picking at me. So I let him laugh for a few seconds after that before coming back to the subject. “He said Jaser frequents the arcades in Boulavie Queen.”

“In that shithole?” he said. And without knowing how he said it you wouldn’t be able to tell he disliked the place. “Why would he even visit there?”

“No reason,” I started, “unless you’re in some weird, dark business of the night.”

“You think he got in trouble with a gang?”

“Maybe,” I said while thinking. “If he’s in trouble, that may be the least of our problems.”

“A human gang,” he said thoughtfully. “Yea, you might be right. That might be the best scenario. You know, below nothing happening to him.”

“I’m well aware, smartass.”

Boulavie Queen, one of those neighborhoods that used to be a nice middle-class central that slowly deteriorated into a low-class place, plagued with all kinds of thugs and drugs. Maybe there weren’t any murders, but criminal incidents were high there. And my nephew had stepped right into it. He knew better, which only meant that he went there willingly. He had to have been part of something shady because he wouldn’t be able to walk in and out of there without problems unless he was part of a gang.

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That was the least of our concerns. He disappeared, which meant that something had happened to him. Escape was an option -- maybe he was hiding away, but from what or who? That might be troublesome for us depending on what it is. He might have been taken away, kidnapped. I definitely didn’t like that option, but there was something even worse.

The place was known to be frequented by the supernatural. A place filled with uninhibited mortals was Fun Time Central for the kind of beings that aimed for power, food, or making slaves. People without money, alcoholics, and drug addicts made perfect candidates to manipulate into doing what they -- the supernatural -- wanted. Jaser might have been one of them, and if that was true, it was the worst possible thing we could imagine for a kid like him.

I don’t know what I’ll be telling my sister if that happened. ‘Hey, sister, I found your son. He’s being digested by a monster.’ I’m sure she would nicely and politely skin me alive.

“What will be your take when we get there?” he asked. “Do you want me to drive hastily and carelessly? Or slow and carefully?”

I thought about it -- I really did give it a full five-second thought. Don’t think too bad about me, I’d be flipping building just to get there as fast as possible, but this is Boulavie Queen we’re discussing. Making a scene just makes you a target. And even though mortals have no supernatural strength or insane magical powers they have this animal instinct, and when the pack gets rubbed the wrong way they are capable of some terrible things. Ask any monster, demon, or angel, they know what we can do; they respect it in a way, and they rather use us than take us on. Vampires -- and torviela, while we’re at it -- are one of the few that take mortals on, but mostly because it's in their nature (or supernature), not because they want to; they don’t like the danger either. Vampire hunting was a thing back on Earth, and I doubt things were any different here in Sovail.

After a little thinking, I decided on an answer. “Let’s take it slow, who knows what could happen to us…” I paused dramatically, “or him.”

Tedet croaked, to what I thought was a grunt and nod of approval. I can barely tell, but maybe I’ve known him for long enough to tell. Maybe only his mannerisms, because any other radera would have left me more confused than a physics equation.

Al Patreck was a busy place. The traffic was mostly concentrated on the main roads and around downtown. If you move away from them you’ll start seeing the scenery change from an upbeat, bustling town to a worn-out, dangerous one. There’s a reason most traffic avoids these places, and though criminality doesn’t shy off from the more populated places, it does make it easier in places where there are barely any eyes to witness or where people prefer to turn a blind eye to delinquency.

Boulavie Queen was one such a place, not the worst, but definitely on the “Top ten places to completely avoid in Al Patreck.” I was one of the followers of that blog post and, look at me, I still have my wallet and my life on me. I’m not so sure about my nephew, Jaser. Maybe he still carries them with him, but might have been robbed of his freedom.

I didn’t like how the scenery was looking the more we drove and the closer we got to Boulavie Queen. And definitely didn’t like how it looked once we got there; it looked like a huge dumpster. Hopefully, the arcade wasn’t so far off that we could simply park there, ask around, find the kid, and leave with him. Never come back.

I liked to think I’m a lucky guy just for reassurance, and who knows, think about something hard enough and it might come true. I had hoped ‘lucky’ was once of those things that stay with you along with ‘confident,’ ‘brave,’ and ‘determined,’ and not along ‘good-looking,’ ‘photogenic,’ and ‘smart.’ I’m not saying I think those, but I am sure Tedet does because he definitely looks the part when I think about confidence, bravery, and determination -- but also smart, and I can’t say about good-looking and photogenic, but he has a girlfriend, so I may be wrong on all fronts.

I might have to start thinking about myself as smart, too.

It all might be for naught anyway, because, only a few streets into BQ, three teenagers, maybe young adults -- who knows by now, they all look the same with all those scars and bulky bodies -- stepped right in front of the car. All carrying baseball bats and iron rods. All had their head and face covered with clothing, showing only their eyes.

Tedet started slowing down.

“What are you doing?” I asked, restlessly. “Tedet, don’t stop the car, move around them.”

He must have smelled my fear or something -- I swear this man can smell just about any emotion -- because I heard a sniff before calling me out: “relax, let me do the talking.”

“I don’t know if I can trust an alchemist with that,” I said and I let it sit. He said nothing. “Much less an alchemist that is socially impaired -- and that’s something because you all are, already!”

He slowed down to a stop. I felt the change in acceleration jerk me forwards.

    Before he could roll down the windows, I whispered: “I hope you really have a plan because I can’t use magic against mortals.”

“All good,” he said in a low voice. “Relax, I’ve got this, Edwhite.” He waited for one of the kids to walk next to the window and called him or her out: “We’re here to pick our boy, he’s in the arcade.”

“Smooth,” I whispered sarcastically, hoping not to get heard.

“Money,” answered the masked kid in a voice that actually suggested he was indeed a boy of seventeen. “All of it.”

“No, you don’t get it,” Tedet pressed on. “We’re here to get our boy back. We pick him up, and we get out. You won’t see us again.”

“I said money,” he repeated. “Or else.”

Tedet actually leaned and moved his head out of the car, looked at the kid straight in the eyes, and enunciated every word “And. We. Get. Out.”

I saw the kid tense up, he never expected the guy to actually have a stronger will and more courage than he and all his friends will ever muster up collectively throughout their lifetimes. Assuming, of course, that their average lifespan was fifty-five because if it was seventy, they might win by a nose.

I’ll give the kid credit, he had balls, because once Tedet acts like that not many are capable of answering back. I was still worried that something bad will happen. But I also knew Tedet could manage.

“You’re dead,” he said, lowering his voice a few tones, making himself sound menacing.

I don’t like my chances on a fight hand to hand against mortals, I don’t have the flexibility to handle the finer types of magic. If I conjured a defensive wall, I could potentially slice someone’s arm in half and endanger their lives. All wizards are forbidden from hurting mortals from the Magical Cabal of Wizardry and Sorcery -- or simply, the Cabal. If they found out, they were out to kill you. Wizards were supposed to defend mortals, not hurt them.

On the other hand, Tedet was an alchemist, a system that works slightly different from the normal magic a wizard conjures, and they made sure that their society doesn’t get stepped on by the Cabal. The Alchemical Society of the World changed their names to, the Stellar Society of Alchemy, once they arrived at Sovail, and they never thought that killing a mortal was punishable by death. They had a court and jury, and if you killed a mortal, you would be trialed. Most of the time alchemists were let go on, and their actions were called self-defense. Rarely were alchemists using their power for evil purposes, they had a different mindset than wizards and sorcerers.

So when the kid pulled the car door open and Tedet came out pulling a small battery with him, he didn’t hesitate to punch the kid straight to the chest. The kid managed to block the punch, but never realized that Tedet had used his battery to power his own alchemy. He used the energy stored in the battery to power his punch, sending the kids straight to the ground and tumbling down.

The rest of the kids looked astonished at the sight of their leader being pommeled and sent flying five meters away from the brawler.

“So,” he said while grabbing another battery from his hip pouch. “Anyone else wants to try me?”

I was afraid of this happening, too. Besides my life, other’s lives could be in trouble thanks to Tedet’s temperament. I pulled down the window and called the kids out: “You guys should really run.”