Braden watched the sun settle between hills after a tiring session of rehearsal. For not a minute he had found himself feeling comfortable with the wannabe actor eying at the role which he was playing.

From the place where he was, he saw the crowd thickening. Sweat had caused rashes on his body.

If Wernh'An wears this all the time then pity on him. Braden could feel the costume behaving like sandpaper.

The evening wind was giving some relief to his skin. Underneath he saw peasants taking their seats in nosebleed section of the coliseum whereas the wealthy ones in fancy dresses were gathering themselves right infront of the stage.

Actors who had loads of lines to remember were panicking behind him.

"Ten more minutes and play will begin." Play Master walked past Braden.

Braden was looking at somewhere else. He overheard the play master panicking after spotting someone familiar in the crowd underneath.

The costume stood out in crowd even from this height.

Braden leapt in excitement and ran inside the dressing room. He stepped inside his room, took out the pouch from his drawer and put it inside his pocket.

"Where are you going?" the jealous actor surprised him from behind.

"Need to wipe sponge over my crack." Braden squeezed his way in through the door.

He ran on winding stairs from leaving his company. In the mid way, he peeked down from another balcony. The man dressed as Calajhan was going for the exit gate.

Braden hasted his way to the ground but by the time he was there, Calajhan was out of the coliseum. Loyal to his motive, Braden pushed himself through the crowd.

A minute of rib cracking struggle later, he was out of the gate.

Where did he go? Braden got confused and began walking around with the pouch held tight.

That man must have been avoiding crowd. He started looking for the route the old man could have taken. Braden chose an inclined ally with stairs.

Running on his way, he saw the man at the end of the ally in the fruit market.

"Don’t follow me you scum." Nortze said.

"You must be looking for something you've lost." Braden gasped.

Nortze stopped walking and spun at him.

Braden was holding the pouch in his hand.

"This must be yours if I'm not mistaken." Braden stretched his arm.

"How did you get this?" Nortze was eager.

"Found this somewhere." Braden didn’t have audacity to confess about his theft.

"Thank you." Nortze was appreciative.

"You're dressed as Nortze and I as Wernh'An. But I am helping you." Braden chuckled, "Irony."

"Irony means something else to me. This festival is also one of those." Nortze was close to him by this point, "Why this is even celebrated here?"

"You believe in three enemies of Calajhans?" asked Braden.

"I find Ouskerus' future being dependent on Calajhans absurd. Some stupid ancestors make up such rumors from Hilcastle and Nastria. Kings use it as a tool to maintain their dominance in the realm."

"Listening to you, I believe you have completely missed the point for this festival."

"Enlighten me." Nortze replied.

"When two members of Calajhan family get murdered, the three foes of the family will be able to start their invasion in Ouskerus. But Great Invasion only rules the dead. We are alive. And the tides in the ocean will never let us leave Ouskerus. Ocean has never been kind to us."

"Why celebrate the prediction of such a grim thought?"

"You better celebrate as well. Nortze Calajhan is starting to lose his strength." warned Braden.

"Why should I?"

"For mercy from Wutke and his council when Great Invasion comes. The festival is held annually in Pryeg to make the three foes of Calajhans happy. People hope Wutke would spare them if they find that people had been welcoming them since ages."

"My grandfather had told me about the myth of Wernh'An of Hilcastle. He never mentioned about any unnamed enemy and Wutke. None of them came in past centuries. Why would they come now?"

"Wutke appears whenever time favors him the most. And some trustworthy people are sensing Wutke's presence growing." Braden was feeling uncomfortable while saying its name, "He is taking a shape."

Nortze felt his words. None of cut-throats had told him anything like Braden.