Ulmir’s Castle, Third day of the Contest.
Myles sat in a small rectangular cell in the dungeons. The Aether root glowed above his head. Utar sat in front of him inspecting him with careful eyes. He was captured and escorted to the dungeons minutes before his fight.
“Here we are again Stalwart.” The High Priest looked angry. “It seems trouble follows you everywhere you go.”
“I don’t know why I was brought here again,” he replied with a playful tone. “You said I was innocent.”
“When I searched your memories before, I didn’t see anything about a magical weapon. I bet your insolent smile will disappear after I get what I want from you.”
“Is - Is it about the sword?” Myles stuttered. “I just found it on the ground, I swe-“
“Spare me your theatrics Stalwart,” the High Priest interrupted. “The Empire suspects you. You’ve been involved with some nasty business here in the Castle. It can’t be just a coincidence.”
“I don’t know anything. I’m just curious. Master always told me to mind my business.” Myles looked down, depressed.
“I’ll ask you one more time,” Utar grabbed Myles by the throat. His pale skin, sharp cheekbones, coupled with the dark spots beneath his eyes, made him look like a horrifying ghost. “How did you get the sword?”
“You can use that spell on me again,” Myles answered. “You’ll see that I’m telling the truth.”
“I can do that. But I can also subject you to agonizing pain then use the spell to extract your memories.” Utar tightened his grip around Stalwart’s neck. “I’m in a bad mood you see, I need to blow off some steam.”
The High Priest let go of Myles then walked towards a wooden table behind him. “Physical injuries can be healed. We just need to put you back in the tank and you’ll instantly regenerate.”
“I told you the truth I promise,” Myles pleaded. “I never met the sword’s owner. I just found it there.”
“Why did you gift it to Vyk?”
“I’m nosy. I heard he knows things so I asked him about the intruder.” Myles legs were shaking. His gaze was fixated on Utar’s legs.
“Why didn’t you use the sword yourself?” The High Priest sat back on his chair. He was holding an embalming tool. “I think I’ll start with your teeth, or fingernails. Oh better yet, let’s see how you can handle your toenails being forcefully pulled away. Don’t worry, I’ll do it as slowly as I possibly can.”
Myles suddenly started howling in pain. “It’s just one fingernail. Wait till we go for the others. I bet it’ll hurt!”
The young man struggled to remain conscious. Utar grabbed him from the neck then slapped him a couple of times. “Why didn’t you use the sword?”
“It was sealed with powerful magic. I was afraid it’d kill me!” Myles struggled to find his words. He was panting, the pain he was experiencing was worse than he’d anticipated. “Master always told me not to relay on my Essence, says I have weak Conduits.” He felt another toenail being torn away then howled. His voice broke then he started coughing, wheezing.
Utar slapped Stalwart then grabbed him by the chin. “Stay with me, you still have answers to provide. Why did you offer that specific sword to Vyk?” He tore another fingernail, this time it was the big toe. Myles’ screams echoed through the empty dungeon halls.
“He likes collecting trinkets. I was told he’s a Rat or something.” Stalwart was struggling to keep his eyes open. He was forced awake by another spasm.
Utar had pinched his finger a bit too tightly. He broke it.
“Last question, whether you go back into the vat depends on your honest answer. Failure to do so means you’ll be delivered to my master. I’m a kitten compared to him.”
The High Priest clapped his hand to get the fainting Myles to concentrate. “Have you ever seen a man with black eyes and golden rectangular pupils?”
“What nonsense is this? I’m gonna die for a man with goat eyes?” Myles was talking to himself.
“ULMIR, IS THIS HOW YOU TREAT THE ONES FAITHFUL TO YOU? I THOUGHT WE WERE PROTECTED IN YOUR REALM. HOW WOULD YOU APPROVE OF THIS?”
He fainted immediately after his outrage. Utar was at a loss for words. Myles had hit a nerve. If he captures the wrong person, his master will punish him severely. “Take him away,” he ordered. “Heal him then wipe his memory. We can’t risk him running his mouth off. Send his avatar to the next stage’s location. Keep his room shut and put extra guards near his original.”
Stalwart was taken away. Utar sat in the cell. He felt rage building up. “Darkstar, you’re the reason behind my misery. I will not let you get away this time. I’m not going to the Well!”
***
The Citadel, Summer of the Red Moon. Inside the Emperor’s Castle.
Avourel sat on a solid mahogany chair ornamented with precious stones. The man, considered by many to be the most powerful ruler in Hera, was frowning. His brown hair had been perfectly swept upwards. His strong jaw and refined nose gave him an air of nobility. He wore black velvet with a crimson cape attached to his shoulders via golden threads. He wore multiple rings on his fingers, each ornamented by a gigantic precious stone.
He was in the throne room. Tapestries, on which the sigil of the flying lion was sewn, hung on all the walls and pillars. The throne was erected atop marble stairs. Everyone who requested an audience with the Emperor had to stand below him.
He was receiving guests, diplomats and wealthy merchants to discuss state matters. Since morning he’s been listening to concerns regarding the rising taxes. A wealthy tailor by the name of Christopher Trebias was leaving the throne room as a raven haired woman stepped in. She was wearing a loose emerald silk dress. The dress had side openings that extended from her hips to the ground. Her chest was almost bare, save for the threads that struggled to hide her breasts.
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“What kind of attire is this dear aunt?” Avourel asked as soon as the woman stopped below the stairs and curtsied.
“It’s fashion, your grace. I happen to be face of fashionable women in the entire eastern continent. I must wear my own designs with pride. That’s how I’ve built my fortune.”
“Is that why you sent me that insufferable Trebias? He’s been nagging about a riot in Bairn for weeks. He’s even got some senator’s head turned.”
“I have something to cheer you up,” the emperor’s aunt said, a large smile drawn on her face. She moved aside then clapped her hands. A cloaked woman entered the room, knelt then removed her cloak.
“She’s a spy who had brought important news. I urged her to deliver them to you herself.”
“Rise,” the emperor ordered.
The woman rose. She was wearing beige pants tucked into black leather boots. The hood that used to conceal her face was taken off, revealing red hair. Freckles stained her round cheekbones. Her brown eyes shone a bright hopeful light. She was honored and glad to be in the emperor’s presence, the most powerful man in the four continents.
“Speak,” the man she revered ordered.
“I managed to track the trail Master Rimbaldi provided me. It led to Cherza.”
“Why does my aunt feel it is vital that I know of this?”
“The man I tracked to Cherza is a smith. I couldn’t sense any Essence in him, but his work is flawless. I bought a dagger from him and presented it to Master Rimbaldi. He says it’s divine”
Avourel rose from the throne then walked down the steps. His crimson cape swept the floor as he slowly descended the marble stairs.
“What’s your name?” he was standing in front of her. His brown hair shone against the sunlight that found its way through the large windows of the throne room.
“Faith, your Imperial Majesty,” the spy answered then curtsied.
Avourel chuckled. He held the spy from her chin and raised her head. “You’ve done well. Do you have a family in the Citadel?”
“I grew up in Brynsk your grace, a small town in the Kingdom of Vitia.” Faith looked at her emperor. She felt his strong hands holding her. She never thought she’d be standing before him one day.
“Your family will be provided for and moved to the Citadel. Contact the scientists, they will send you to Cherza well-equipped. I want everything directly reported to me. If the smith sneezes I want to know. If he shows attachment to anyone, I want to know of it. I want to know where he drinks, where he spends his days and nights. I want detailed reports of his every move, is that clear?”
“Yes your grace.”
“Leave,” Avourel released his grip on the girl.
He turned to look at his aunt and her revealing outfit. “You are invited to dinner at my table tonight.” The woman bowed then left the room.
The emperor walked back up the steps, picked up his crown then turned to look at his minister. “Who else is on the list?”
“No one your grace, we’re done for the day. There’s a report from General Bradford in your study.”
“Very well, I shall get to it.”
Later that day, Avourel met with his aunt around dinner.
“Any news from Utar,” he asked as soon as she arrived.
“He says the boy is just an improbable coincidence. He searched his soul. He has never seen your face before.”
“What about our soldiers?”
“Utar sent some samples to Rimbaldi. He says they belong to the same person who caused a mess in the Gardens. Utar suspects he was also behind the destruction of the Faery Plains.”
“Have you found out anything on your own?” the emperor cut the boneless chicken on his plate and started eating.
“I have,” the woman answered. “I’m certain you will not like it.”
“Go on,” Avourel urged before he took another bite.
“The readings Rimbaldi got from the samples he received from Ulmir’s Domain match those of the individual the press started calling the Devil with Black Eyes.”
“How could you be so sure?”
“I took a sample myself after the revolt five years ago.”
The emperor stopped eating. He looked at his aunt with fury in his eyes.
“Something’s not right,” he finally said after a long silence. “Contact Utar again, have him open another portal. I want you in there, you’re a better tracker than that lunatic.”
“He will not approve,” the woman protested.
“And I will take the blame for it. I have a bad feeling about this. First our soldiers are killed. Then we see a ghost in a Contest that’s dangerously low on contestants. And then you inform me that this Darkstar Utar is obsessed with might be the Devil we’re after. Do you really believe this to be a coincidence?” he was standing now, banging on the mahogany table. His hair had become messy and his clothes displaced.
“No, I don’t your grace. I’ll contact Utar right away.” Agatha stood up then made for the door.
“Stay,” the emperor shouted before his aunt reached the exit. “Let’s have a pleasant dinner first, as family. We haven’t had one of those in ages.”
***
Back in the Castle, Utar was interrogating Vyk. The man had encountered Zedd before. The High Priest saw it in his memories. He was trying to understand when the famous thief and collector met his nemesis. He needed to know if it was before or after the Faery Plains were destroyed.
“So my suspicions were right!” he said after he was done inspecting the thief. “He was resting when you lot ambushed him. You don’t steal from a man like him.”
He was pacing around the little cell, organizing his thoughts. “Perhaps the Lizards got him. Even I can’t beat them if they attack in great numbers. Maybe that’s how Stalwart happened upon his weapon. Lizards don’t like weapons that are imbued with magic.”
A knock on the cell’s door interrupted his chain of thought. “WHAT?” he shouted in anger.
Javad entered the room then knelt. “Your Reverend, we have a situation at the Castle!” the short man announced.
“What situation?” Utar aggressively shot at the Priest. “What can’t wait until I’m done with my interrogation?”
“The ch-ch-champions’ avatars have d-d-disappeared,” the Priest said. His knees were shaking.
“What do you mean disappeared? Where?” the High Priest held Javad by the collar then elevated him toward his face. He was dangling in the air. “WHERE?!”
“We d-d-don’t know, Y-Y-Your Reverend., their originals a-a-are still asleep in their t-t-tankers.” By the time he stammered out his answer, the Priest had wet his pants.
Just as Utar was about to shout out more insults at Javad, a guard came running to the cell. “Your Reverend, the Monitor! It shows all the champions!”
The High Priest let go of Javad then strode out of the cell. “Clean this mess up and lock him inside,” he ordered as he left the dungeons. With quick steps, Utar made for the Champions’ Lounge. He reached the spacious lounge to see a shadow sitting on the throne.
“What’s this High Priest?!” the shadow asked.
Utar looked at the Monitor. Sixteen Champions sat in a room, around a long wooden table. They all looked as confused as the High Priest. “What’s the meaning of this?” he whispered, incredulous.
“Welcome dear Champions,” a feminine voice was heard saying. The shadow at the throne grunted. Utar’s heart jumped. “I’m sure you’re all confused, asking yourselves, what happened to good old Utar? Well, tell ya what! I took over!”
The shadow stood from the throne then approached Utar. “I can’t enter the realm High Priest. Whoever stole your champions is in there with them.”
“Mercy my Lord,” Utar dropped to his knees. If he could touch the dark shadow, he’d kiss its feet.
“I heard you captured someone for interrogation. There should be fifteen champions in there. Find that woman before I can break into the barrier that blocks me from reaching you.” The shadow disappeared, leaving Utar frantic. He looked at the screen again. The woman’s voice was still talking.
“I’ve come up with the best contest there is. We’ll play a game of hide and seek!” the woman chuckled. She seemed to enjoy herself a little too much. “Ulmir’s domain has a hidden door you see. I’ve led you all through it while your High Priest was busy on some goose chase. Today, your worthless lives belong to me!”
The woman broke into uncontrollable laughter. “Only one of you is allowed to leave, unless you show me how brave you are.
“You’ll live here for seven days. During one week, your job will be to find the key holder. There’s a way out for all of you, you see. But it’s inside one of you. Only he or she knows about it, the rest of you don’t.
“Find the key holder. Kill him, or her, then you can all leave together. Or hold on to the key and survive for seven days. If the key holder survives one week, then he or she will leave while you become my food!”
As if the day couldn’t get any worse, a guard burst into the room again.
“Your Reverend,” he knelt then removed his helmet.
“What?!” the High Priest turned, exasperated.
“We inspected the bodies in the tankers, they’re not the originals. She swapped them before taking them there.” The guard pointed at the room on the Monitor.