Chapter 7: For Love (Part 1!)

The orphan, or the ghost is the destroyer of blood based family and unity.

Allow me to tell you how horrible the insult and brand “Ghost” was.

A ghost is a person who should be dead, yet continues to haunt others.

Not wanted, nor loved. No family to live with. No lover to hold. Ghost was a term usually ascribed to disadvantaged peoples. Particularly on scarred children of war. Their hearts and minds were supposedly dead. Despite this belief, they carried on. Many reasons for this hate of children that lost their parents varied from community to individual.

In the year hundred and nine, ghosts couldn’t marry unless they fought for their country for three decades. In two hundred and seventy nine, ghosts couldn’t hold positions in government. Ranging from the mighty centurion down to a mayor. And in the year three hundred and thirty one, ghosts couldn’t appear as witnesses against Iozians in court.

But do you know what I think? That they scared them. I know, silly. A vulnerable kid causing fear in a healthy mind. But picture it. A being as precious and immune as a child being hurt. Losing everything. Becoming a sign of unending and unceasing war. Discomfort from these victims lead to insults. To assault. To legal measures. To emigrate. To segregation. Then to death. Some survived, if you can believe that. Every Iozian, from orphan to Oligarch held family paramount above all else. To not have it was to be condemned to drown.

But there were whispers. From all around. From the street. From the hill, and the hill over. There was a conspiracy to set things right. To begin extinguishing the nation of its fear and hatred. From the doctor in the hospital, to the Oligarch of Suncatch. Things would change, for those that desperately needed it. All they had to do was gain a decisive victory in order to legitimize and fraternize the ghosts. For now, making money off liquor licenses was all he could do.

If I’m allowed to title that curious scarecrow, I would give Vega the title of ghost.

The scarecrow, underneath the great confines of the Gladiato Ultra, was preparing with the many entertainers and fighters. Hundreds of performers, thousands of workers, kept in the belly of the arena. Core Civitus was having a concert. Every moment, Vega found herself bouncing off a man moving props or another practicing.

“Geez Kaliba, this place is enormous.”

“True.” The crow croaked out. They were right, as the many arcades and chambers that made up the lower section of the arena had to be big enough for the performances. Right then and there, Vega saw a crew herding twelve lions into a cage.

It was almost oppressive, much like a dungeon. Long branch-like torches burned hot, keeping all the rooms a smoky gray. And the smell was a mixture of sweat and animal feed. You could hardly hear your own voice in the crowds that pushed through each other.

Vega, after half an hour of climbing and squeezing past people, finally found the room labeled ‘Damocles’. Swiftly entering and closing the door behind her, she found the room was very open. Sure, the air could choke a man, but couldn’t choke a scarecrow.

Three men read their lines, clearly educated and aristocratic. One man, a wall of muscle, sheepishly put on his costume, embarrassed to be changing in front of other people. Kaliba flew to a closet labeled, ‘Tornado’.

“There’s my closet! Good find.” Vega flipped it open, seeing the simple outfit she needed to wear. Despite the size of the event, they didn’t spare much expense for the ones performing the acts.

All of the men in the room were surprised to hear a girl’s voice, and shot glances at Vega. Not caring for any common decency, Vega took off all of her clothes. The buff actor was the last to see Vega changing, very much confused at why a scarecrow was here.

Vega, now finished changing, turned to see all the men giving her weird looks.

“What? We’re all friends, right?” As she spoke, the door to the room crashed open.

A cloaked man, tall as a tree, entered the room. On his person was belts, pockets, and bags carrying candy colored syringes and serums. He wore a leper mask that was suctioned to his hood. His ears were daggers, also concealed by metal. Everyone, even Vega could tell that he was wearing it not to protect himself, but to protect others.

“Time for disease shots.” A flooded and gravelly voice came out of the cloak man. All the actors groaned like bratty children.

“I hate shots.” The buff actor said.

“What’s a shot?” Vega asked, not disturbed by the cloaked man.

“To protect you from diseases.” The cloaked man pulled out twelve from his left hand and pointed to each with his right. “This one’s for the flu. This’s one for consumption.”

“And there’s the one for malaria.” An actor listed.

“One for Great Pox. You gotta have the vaccine for Great Pox.” Another spoke with the other actors nodding in agreement.

“As well as one for dealing with elves, such as myself.” The cloaked man bowed before the room. “And finally, the one when dealing with ghosts.”

“Huh.” Vega’s smile went away. “Well, are there going to be ghosts at the Concert of Combat?”

Skaldi, while walking to Core Civitus, rubbed his long elf ears. They had finished healing from the fall. Though he wasn’t in a happy state. The Galtians were one of the indigenous elves native to the Iozian lands. Elves were separated in a series of sub groups and categories but two main ones presided. Blight elves and Fliction elves. Blight elves easily transmitted and carried great disease within themselves. Skilled in the operations of the body, but could devastate towns if no precautions were taken.

Skaldi was a Fliction elf. More agile and imbued with incredible eyesight. If given a dart, he could hit a firefly from a hundred yards away and pin to a wall without killing it. But a race specialized in ranged warfare came with a weakened frame. And a greater sensitivity to pain.

“Hey Skaldi.”

“Yes Bolato?” Skaldi didn’t look at him.

“Are you mad?”

“No.” Skaldi turned his head further away, trying to avoid the fat soldier’s gaze. Bolato leaned forward as they walked.

“Are you lying?” Pouting, Skaldi reluctantly nodded. “See? It’s almost as if communicating what you feel is good.” Bolato smirked.

“Shut up. You could have helped me with that construct.”

“Ok. Did you even have a plan?” Bolato waited for a response. Skaldi blankly stared back at him. “See? Take a breath sweetie.” Skaldi sighed deeply, ready for a new subject.

“Hey sweet pea. Is that comic treating you well?” Valiato began ‘studying’ Bolato’s stash of thin paper magazines. A treat for the eyes but nothing beyond that.

“It's not too bad. I wished it had more pictures.” She finished, gently putting it in her pack. Amir held no disagreement. Comics was an art piece produced out of the mixing of artists when the Oligarchy first founded, he knew. Amir had a few magazines himself, but they resembled more text books rather than a piece of entertainment.

He steeled himself, ready against the pipelines these sodomites could employ. It starts with gambling, then a carnivore diet, and then finally, homosexuality. But then again, if they were to try something, they would have done it already. Speaking of which.

“~How far are we to the cathedral?~”

“~Two, five minutes ahead Ari~.” He nodded, and began to record the environment. Remembering what places he traveled and what he encountered was mandatory. As well as producing the makeup.

“Hey Bolato. Have you ever been to a temple before?”

“It's compulsive when you finish training. What, you want to check around it?” Hopping, Bolato found his answer.

“Yep. Galtians have pretty basic housing. But then again it's kind of like comparing a pebble to a mountain. Plus, I learned plenty of stuff about how to turn a soldier’s supplies into some good snacks.”

“This is a church Skaldi, not a refrigerator.”

“I know, but I want to see if we can find anything we can cook. It's been a rough couple days.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Yep. I’m starving.” Bolato slapped his gut.

“I can tell.”

“Oh, you’re just a bitch.” They smiled, now nearing the entrance to the cathedral. Amir stopped just outside along Valiato. Bolato kneeled beside them.

“Come on you two. Don’t feel like you're intruding. You are, but… you're an invited intruder.” Valiato looked up to Amir, pleading.

“~Sure kid. But don’t touch anything.~” He looked around its shell, carefully making sure there was nothing off. “~Could still be spirits around here.~”

“Cool. He says we can go in.” Valiato was not experienced with religion, and was ready to find out what the fuss was about. The group quietly entered, like they were members of this church.

“This is the Spirit Dianato Cathedral. It burned down a while ago.” Skaldi’s ears wiggled.

“I thought Iozians called those things saints.”

“Kind of. Spirits are for cathedrals, saints are for temples. One you offer tribute to, the other you pray to. What did your people pray to?”

“One, we literally lived with our spirits. Two, you could just talk to them when you needed to.” Skaldi corrected.

“Are spirits annoying Ska?” Valiato chimed.

“Depends. Some are definitely more pleasant than others. Like the one for love. They have an innate desire to make relationships better. Think marriage counselor, except God told you to do it.” Valiato rubbed her cheek, considering what to ask next.

“~Ask if they have stupid ones kid.~” chuckling out a suggestion, Amir began to recline on the floor.

“Are any of them… weirdos?”

“Define weird, sweetpea.”

“Uh… relationships that are… weird?” Skaldi thought then had a story.

“Well, there was the failed summoning of a fertility spirit. Turns out replacing blood with tomato- '' Bolato placed hand on Skaldi’s mouth.

“Somebody’s still here.” A distant stomping within the building was heard. Followed by a long yelp.

“Son of a scum son!” Everyone's face turned to contempt. Here it comes.

“Amber! Did you grab everything? I want to catch up to Vega as fast as we can.” Lai’s voice prompted Skaldi to anger.

“You’re kidding. Someone please tell me she's not here.” The redhead begged.

“We’re way past that little buddy.” Exiting down the stairs, the duo didn’t notice the intruders.

“If we get to her first, imagine what we can do!”

“Yes Lady. We’ll have two idiots on our side.”

“Stop being mean to the falcon Amber. Plus, I think she’s got potential. There's just a spark in her, you know?”

“A spark for a torch or for a city fire?”

“Both.” Lai proudly proclaimed as she descended the stairs.. Bolato lowered to Skaldi, in a ghostly quiet tone.

“Look, this is a bad idea. So it would be best if you didn’t-” Skaldi ran up and jumped into a drop kick. Getting in front of Chakrit, Lai absorbed the strike.

“It's you!” Both knew the routine. Bent forward. Lay your hands on your hips. And sneer superciliously.

“My rival!” Amir took to blocking Valiato’s vision.

“~Ari. This isn’t for adults, I want see them fight.~”

“~No Valiato. No one, especially children, should see them fight. Trust me, I’m saving you so many headaches.~” Lai and Skaldi took to slapping each other. Very much aware of the fact they had weapons.

“Hey Amber.”

“Hey Bolato…” Both needed a pause to recover from this ongoing battle. “Look, I’m sure we both want out of this. Me and Sun-”

“It's Lady Lai and you know it!” Infuriated, Lai corrected.

“Right… me and Lady Lai are just trying to catch up to a lead. If you want to check out the cathedral, there’s a storage room just next to the marriage area.”

“What's the lead?”

“Not telling.”

“What if I gave you a pot of wine?”

“Don’t give him the wine!” Skadli attempted to command. The slaps had turned into pokes.

“You’re not involved in this sweetie.” Bolato ignored him.

“I’m feeling pretty involved!”

“You know what. Make it two and I’ll tell you.” Bolato looked at Amir. Amir knew a deal was taking place and nodded, hopeful it would end this spat.

“Okay. Remember the drill?”

“Got it Bolato.”

One…

Two…

“Three!” Bolato pulled away the giant woman and Chakrit took to shoving the redhead. Now unable to assault each other physically, they started verbally.

“Your makeup is ugly!” Skaldi spat out.

“Your face is ugly!” Bolato and Chakrit knew that they would tire out. The problem was when.

“What kind of girl fights?”

“I do?” Valiato responded, peering through the fingers of Amir.

“What kind of an elf likes money? I thought you all used tree bark as your currency!” Skaldi was viciously injured. He had to strike back, where it hurts.

“What are you? A bitch?”

“Bitch I might be!”

“So are you guys done trying to hurt each other or are we going to move on with our lives?” The rivals continued to struggle to escape the embarrassed guard's grasp.

“Didn’t think so.” Bolato exhausted. Lai had to use Skaldi’s weapon against him.

“What are you? Gay?”

“Bitch I might be!” Skaldi screamed proudly. Okay, this is over. The pair tripped the feuding rivals, knocking them on the ground. Chakrit took the two pots, and sampled.

“Here you go. Now… what's your lead?”

“Scarecrow.” Chakrit spoke plainly. Bolato didn’t register the statement.

“Sorry, say that again?” Skaldi quickly rose to Bolato, infuriated.

“Why did you kick me Bol-”

“You, shut face. Anyway, you are trying to follow a scarecrow?” Amber rubbed his head, a faint blush came over his face.

“Yes. And it managed to put Lady and I on the back foot. But then again, I need practice.” Lai went to lean onto Chakrit, but he shoved her before she could finish.

“Was it like… a spirit?”

“Do spirits need to go to the hospital?” Chakrit folded his arms. Bolato gave it some thought, rubbing his chin.

“No. No. That's the idea.” Shaking his head as the words came out, Bolato started to reflect.

“Well, it said it was going to the city and we are gonna beat you there.” The giant sassily spoke.

“Like hell you are!” Skaldi sprinted, but Bolato lifted him off the ground. Skaldi struggled but Bolato put him into a bridal carry.

“Sweetie, be patient. It's not like they’re gonna get one over on us if they even find that thing. And we’re four plus the kid.”

“Can it at least be counted as a half?”

“Sure Valiato. Four and a half. Compared to maybe three. Probably two and a half.”

“Whatever. I’ve seen what she’s done and I know she’s got something.” Lai affirmed.

“Got something wrong more like.”

“Shut up Amber. We’re going.” As the bandit pair exitted, Amir relinquished Valiato. She went up to the couple and jumped up and down.

“Can we go look around the cathedral now?”

“Soon. It's just… Ska and I need to talk for a bit. Don’t worry, we’ll just be making sure the place is safe so you can explore it.” Bolato said as he rubbed the nose of the little slinger.

“Ok!” She skipped to Amir and unpacked some learning materials to pass the time. Bolato, placed his hands on his hips and started to tap his foot on the ground.

“Yeah, yeah. Got it.” The couple climbed the stairs and went into a hallway. Amir constructed a makeshift table out of the broken brick and stone. He started at the redhead, in disgust.

“~Kid, promise me something.~”

“~What is it Ari?~” Concerned, Valiato swayed her head.

“~Please. To whatever is out there. Don’t let your emotions dominate you. It is good to experience passion and anger. But, do not be enslaved by it. Do you remember the saying I taught you a week ago?”

“~Yes Ari. There are three states of enslavement. To icons. To governance. And the worst, to yourself.~” Amir coughed in relief, and pulled out a pestle and mortar. He inserted red beetles and twilight bark, and slowly grinded the components together.

“~Good. Now are you ready for the quiz today?~” She nodded in enthusiasm.

“Alright, what do you call people who think that they can do just anything in their lives?”

“~Tripolians.~”

“~Good. Now, what do you call people who don’t like anything ten miles outside their house?”

“~Iozians.~” Scrubbing her head, Amir approved.

“~Very good. Now, if you answer this one well kid, we can jump into the next topic. Are you ready?~” Valiato shook her head, accepting this challenge.

“~What do you call someone who judges others, but makes no good choices themselves?~” Amir beckoned.

“~You.~”

Amir couldn’t move. Valiato’s insult wasn’t meant to be hurtful, he knew. But it was the closest thing that hurt him in years. He spooned the makeup out of the pestle. And he applied it on her, in bitter silence. Valiato’s eyes pleaded. If she had gotten the answer correct.

“~No Valiato. The answer was Galataii.~”