20 years ago

It was getting too hot to breathe, the brittle air crackled between Raven’s teeth. It didn't stop the strangers from coming to the arena. Their arrival wasn't without a meaning. Even though Raven had been inquisitive, the only revelation he'd uncovered spoke about Rivel. What else is there to reveal? Hasn’t she shown all her fancy tricks already? It’s made Raven confused. Two paces to his right stood grandpa Kura. The short—and not treated gently by time—man scowled, watching the opposite part of the audience where all the important people assembled on the stone benches. A few stayed back, leaning nonchalantly against the cold, black outer walls of the arena, their attention indifferent to events that were about to play out in the pit below. The majority have taken their seats. They, in reverse, observed themselves with diligence, leaving even less consideration for the pit. The pit itself, save for the sand, was empty. There was indeed nothing to entertain them. Raven opened his mouth to voice a question when Kura cursed.

“By Garhala’s foul blood. This is a truly fell gathering.”

Raven gave him a curious look. “I thought you were indifferent to the Pantheon, grandpa.”

“Indifferent? No, kid. I’m a non-believer. I piss on the entire Pantheon with all the consequence of my deed.”

“Then why do you swear by it?” This was another thing that made Raven confused. People said one thing and then did the opposite. Why?

Kura shrugged. “Doesn’t change a thing. This motley there represents the worst scums in the alchemical underworld. And most of them are imbeciles”

“But many of them are our friends.”

“Yeah, life sucks, kiddo.”

The cold, grinding sound stopped Raven’s next question. Faces on the opposite side swung to the pit. Out of darkness stepped out a girl, tall and black-haired. Rivel walked with a dignified grace, which Raven has always envied. I wish I had her swag, he thought, grinning like an idiot.

“Don’t be a fool, kid. She’s an arrogant devil.”

Raven blinked, blankly searching for clues in the old man’s face.

“Barulea’s worst dream. You were thinking aloud. You should have seen your face. You’d fit with the others on the other side.”

“That was uncalled for.” Raven grimaced, even though he knew that grandpa Kura could be moody at times and arguing only soured it further.

Despite the tension, Rivel didn’t hold the spectator’s attention for long. A few individuals made their entrance through the main door and took their seats on the stone benches twenty paces away from the major gathering. Kura hissed and Raven turned to him, regarding the old man with a dose of surprise. Grandpa could turn into ‘a stubborn prick’ (Rivel called him that) if circumstances didn’t favour him, which has been most of the time. But he had never shown an open hostility like this.

“What’s going on?”

“Now we’re brewing an explosive mixture here. Garhala take me, but the Black Hand devolves with age into an exquisite imbecile. Those there are dangerous men, kid.”

Raven squinted at the opposite side of the arena—feeling a little spooked—and trying to comprehend the source of Kura’s odd reaction. Dangerous men? Hasn’t he said the same about almost anyone younger and bigger than him? That’d be almost everyone.

Seven men wearing black, unadorned masks studied the pit below. In their behavior Raven couldn’t see anything suspicious. They looked casual while the alchemists squirmed in the newfound company. Maybe it’s the masks that unsettle everyone?

“Grandpa, why the masks? Do you know them?”

“Aye. The one that looks like he’s just devoured a dozen men is known as the Skinny. Don’t frown at me. The bastard likes to flay people alive.”

Raven felt his heart rate quicken but Kura hasn’t stopped speaking, “the one wearing the green long coat is rumored to be a member of the Peak Council in Guei—” Kura stopped and his eyes narrowed to slits. “Why do I even tell you those things? Aren’t you too young to know any of this?”

Raven smiled because he saw that grandpa Kura’s mood has just lifted and it made the boy feel safe again.

“So, who’s the half-naked, tattooed man? I can’t imagine how he’s come by those muscles.”

“Mar Ottose. There is a story in the circulation that the previous Minister of War himself offered him a position of the Tenth Strip in the Imperial army.”

“It clearly must be a lie, otherwise, wouldn’t we be in trouble?”

“Clearly,” Kura answered.

“Oh, you’re doing it again.”

“Clearly.”

“I hate it.”

Kura’s wry smile was the only answer. Ten heartbeats later, chains lifted the second iron door in the pit. Rivel smirked when nothing came out of the darkness. Raven couldn’t help but smile with her. It only cost him a scoff from grandpa. A small cost. Rivel shouted, taunting whatever hid beyond the massive door. She hasn’t ever lost a fight! Something burst out into the pit with an unbelievable impetuosity that made Raven blink. Not even a heartbeat has passed when the show was over. Grandpa Kura rose, reddening with rage. Raven couldn’t understand why. Rivel hasn’t moved but five paces in front of her a hulking body writhed entangled by tendrils of black smoke. The creature has been subdued by the Black Hand. The big boss pressed his amazing but freaky charred hand against the chitinous armor. Now, was it what supposed to happen? Where the Black Hand came from? Isn’t this Rivel’s show? And indeed, his sister looked angry, talking to the Black Hand, too quiet for Raven to overhear. The creature went motionless and the big boss withdrew the hand, putting a black glove back in place. Seeing his magical hand wasn’t a common sight, Raven agreed, still, it didn’t make sense to invite all these people…

“I must know who stands behind this,” Kura murmured to himself, indifferent to Raven’s presence. Behind what?

“Behind what?” Raven repeated the question aloud. Kura shot him a fractional look, not bothering to answer. The alchemists rushed to the stone railing. Some leaned haphazardly.

“We should go,” Kura said, stepping onto stairs between stone benches. Raven saw four people coming their way.

“Why all this sudden haste? What about Rivel?” he asked.

Kura staggered, a tangle of curses escaped him, “I must’ve been cursed by Gurhala himself. I hate this old body.”

Nothing new. The same old complaints have hunted grandpa Kura but this erratic behavior didn’t seem familiar. What could rattle the old man so much that he stopped being witty and became gritty? Kura turned to Raven and opened his mouth, perhaps to answer, but more likely to scold the boy. The sight froze the old man, and Raven, too, spun around. He smiled at seeing Rivel in the company of the Black Hand. They stood in the lowest row. No farther than ten paces from Raven and Kura.

“Are you mad?” Kura hissed to the Black Hand.

The big boss nonchalantly waved his question away. He was a huge, incredibly well-built man, dwarfing others around him. He must’ve been at least ten feet tall. And yet, he was nothing but gentle and funny. Wearing shorts and a long-sleeved shirt adorned with flowers, the big boss didn’t care what others thought of his bizarre fashion and Raven has respected him for that attitude. Even now, the Black Hand smiled.

“Calm down, old man. Have you forgotten about your fragile heart?”

“My heart is the least of our concerns. Which god of the fake Pantheon has snatched your brain? What made you think that inviting them…” Kura pointed at the masked men and stuttered. They were upon them. In Raven’s chest, a loud thudding agreed with grandpa’s mood. “…was a good idea?’

“The Black Hand!” Mar Ottose said. “When I’ve agreed to this meeting I haven’t imagined to be the witness of your spectacular ability. I’m impressed.” The tattooed man seemed kind, and yet, something told Raven that there were unseen currents in the man’s words. Raven couldn’t think of where the hunch came from. Though he suspected grandpa’s attitude. It seemed contagious.

The Black Hand smirked, showing rows of white teeth. “Mar—”

“Obviously the Black Hand messed up!’ Rivel snapped. The gathered men straightened, taken aback by her sudden surge of anger. “I’m capable of dealing with the critter myself.”

“That brat,” Kura hissed barely on the hearing level.

If anyone expected the Black Hand to fight back, then he’d be disappointed. The big boss sat down at the stone railing and spread out his hands, “I must admit that my rashness—”

“Rashness?! It was the Tyt’s Sting! Not a mere critter to play with. This thing is deadly,” Kura rasped, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Everything in the desert is deadly, geezer,’ Rivel corrected him. “And I’m deadlier than the desert itself.”

Kura blinked, shocked at the response, “You’re a foolish snot!”

Rivel’s incoming fury was interrupted by the Skinny’s comment, “did I hear correctly? Was this the infamous Tyt’s Sting?”

The Black Hand nodded.

The masked men looked at each other. Something unsaid was shared between them, then the Skinny added, “how did you come by such a beast?”

A tug stole Raven’s attention. He turned.

“Come kid. This conversation doesn’t concern you.” While that much was obvious, Raven felt the opposite. Adults spoke in such a controlled manner, blurring the sense of their words with a brutal persistence. Countless meanings veiled behind meaningless expressions. Only recently Rivel has begun teaching Raven the nuances of adult conversations.

As usual, Raven didn’t oppose Kura and allowed to be led out of the arena, into the belly of the stronghold. The arena was situated in the eastward wing of the Dreadnight fortress. At least a hundred paces below the ground level. Light and heat came down brought by alchemically imbued machinery of which Raven didn’t possess a sliver of knowledge.

It was a long way back and despite his strong bloodline, he hated the effort. Kura grumbled and cursed until they left the stairs and reached the ground level. The corridors had draft holes to cool down the air. Even so, the temperature in the stronghold often has threatened to turn the place into an oven.

“We must do something about it,” Kura said, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.

“But you already tried, grandpa. The alchemy doesn’t work on the black walls,” Raven said.

“For Destant’s sake. I didn’t talk about the heat nor I talked to you, kid. Forget all you’ve seen and heard today.”

Raven had agreed to follow Kura out of the arena, while Rivel has stayed, and now, grandpa asked him to forget things in the arena. He didn’t like it. She was only a year older than him. He should be treated equally to her.

“I won’t forget what happened there,” Raven admitted. Kura whipped around to face him.

“I can’t afford another stubborn brat to watch,” Kura complained but continued padding ahead.

“Just tell me why everyone is scared of the Tyt’s Sting?” Raven asked, leaving no room for Kura to answer as he quickly added, “and why did the big boss interrupt Rivel’s show if she said she is capable of dealing with the critter herself?”

Kura shook his head, “you’re too young for that. Though I can tell about the Tyt’s Sting. This foul creature is bred near the border of the Hakan Shuy with one goal in mind – hunt and kill Royalbloods.”

Raven gasped, wide eyes filled with shock. How can anything be bred to kill people?

Kura’s smile was vile, “I see you get the picture. Good. I’ll take you to your room and lock you there. I don’t want you to run about while the Black Hand’s guests are here.”

Raven stopped, “No.”

“No? No what?”

“No. I don’t like your explanation. Rivel had taught me enough to know that you aren’t telling me everything.’

Kura gritted his teeth, which he surprisingly still had. “Of course I’m not telling you everything. I told you. You’re too young.” Then he added quietly, “if the Pantheon was real, she would possess Garhala’s soul.” Garhala was a deity of death.

“Rivel is only a year older and she can stay and talk—”

“Rivel isn’t a failure—” Kura’s eyes hardened and crevasses around them turned dark. “Boy. The lesson for you. You’re not your sister. You may learn from her, but don’t expect to be treated the same way.”

Grandpa’s words drove chisels deep into Raven’s soul. Even though he didn’t fully comprehend their meaning. Perhaps, the old man hasn’t sought to wound him. Burdened by the failings of his own body and the weight of an unexpected situation, he just made a misstep. It still hurt. Rationalization didn’t alleviate the pain. Raven held Kura’s gaze for a brief moment then said, “I might be a failure but, I know the way to my room.”

“Kid. Now, you’re doing it…”

Raven didn’t turn or stop to listen to Kura. He came to the intersection of corridors and almost bumped into Cuk. The messenger passed him, running, only to paddle back five heartbeats later.

“Good that I found you,” Cuk said, inhaling hard.

“You’ve looked for me?”

“No. Not really,” he answered after he’d regained his breath. Happiness beamed from the young messenger. “But the message we received is for everyone. The Emperor of the Aael Empire is dead. The tyrant has been assassinated.”