Chapter 7: It rains over Yasha'Lafiq

The Declaration was already at hand by the time Ssyba got there, and the midday sun was dripping like molten iron upon the largest crowd of people in a century. This mass assemblage was all thanks to Yanamusad's ascendancy to the First Throne.

Never had Ssyba seen so many people gathered in one place.

All the buildings surrounding the northern marketplace, overlooked from the south by the towering Azure Fortress, were in some way impacted and overwhelmed by the squirming masses. Some were perched upon the roofs and balconies like pigeons, some moved in bulky amorphous groups and columns, directionless and mindless, some more daring even climbed the statues that normally dominated the plaza. The streets leading to the northern marketplace were slow with thick multitudes, and the usual stalls, kiosks and places of trade had all been cleared and ruined or abandoned the day before, leaving the entire public square absolutely filled to the brim with people instead. From a certain distance the gathering appeared more like a sea of indistinct heads and faces, such a wide agglomeration of individuals, not only humans, but all sorts of beasts and animals, slaves and others. Ssyba saw dwarves, gremlins and some nanza-cats too, by far the most prosperous creatures who lived alongside humans in their societies. She had encountered some cowled and hooded individuals bearing the aura of tso-men, walking with a swagger that whispered death and a criminal gleam in their black eyes. She avoided those with a wide berth. Among the multitude of mobs, she nearly sensed the presence of elementals too, but wasn't sure.

It hadn't taken long for Ssyba to regret coming here. Dust, heat and the stench of sweat were so thick that it stung her eyes. From all sides slimy bodies, legs and limbs pressed against her, forcing her to move with the tide in a pulsating manner. Standing still was just impossible, she was simply thrown around like a straw doll by the will of the mob. At some point she began contemplating her death, praying continuously to Marduni to reincarnate her as a human, now that she had a soul.

"Curiosity killed the cat! Curiosity killed the cat!" mumbled Ssyba on and on.

She glanced up, saw the High Azure Fortress rising above them like a silent mountain-god from the sea, and it gave her renewed strength. Numbers of functionaries and servants moved on the heights or leaned from beyond the windows and balconies. Ssyba saw someone drink a vraja potion and rain down upon the entire plaza an endless cloud of red and yellow flower petals. They fluttered down from the stone walls of the fortress upon the crown below and bathed them all in splendid coolness.

Throughout this whole process, Ssyba inspected the man's mystical gate carefully: according to her observations, he first drank the vraja potion, then he opened the mystical gate and allowed his clear spring mana within to react to the potion's effect. A strange representation like a symbol began to take shape by the mystical gate, and all the mana from the gate flooded silently and cleanly directly into the symbol, activating its effect. This was called a reaction unique to every potion in the world, and the beneficiary could strengthen the reaction by simply pouring more mana in it. This was the main reason why higher quality mana was so important to a person's overall power. A reaction activated by a fixed quantity of clear spring mana for example will become stronger if imbued with a higher quantity of clear spring mana, but regardless of how much clear spring mana is used, white cloud mana will always be more potent, and so on and so forth.

Ssyba watched with keen interest the entirety of the process:

"This would be an issue when I gain power in the future, because just as Izzmahil took notice of my previously opened mystical gate, others might identify whatever reactions I have activated on me, and my secret will thus be uncovered. The element of surprise will be lost, and right now that is my greatest asset, at least until I am strong enough to keep a profile," mused Ssyba within her innermost thoughts.

Such a flaw would have to be mastered somehow, so Ssyba had shelved the issue for later consideration.

Suddenly, howl!

A chorus of war-horns sounded from the interior of the monolithic fortress, like the bottomless bellow of a titan. There were hundreds of them but the sounds melted into one abyssal howl across the earth and sky. Everyone around Ssyba, bar none, remained dead silent in anticipation for the whole duration, until the long howl of the horns grew into a reverberating roar. Then the masses cried together in an even louder roar, so much so that even Ssyba had to shout, carried over by the inertia of all those around her.

The multitude of people became restless and impatient as soon as the horns stopped howling, and Ssyba realized without a doubt that these people worshiped the First Throne and the first prince, in their own way. It wasn't merely respect or fear of their power, no. It was worship and veneration, because power was all that mattered in human society. Power dictated all facets of life.

"How that must feel," thought Ssyba.

How could she ever rival humans who commanded events such as this? The truth was, she wasn't supposed to. She could live quietly and simply as a nanza, and nobody would bat an eye. Mister Izzmahil was the only one who knew about her secret and she could, if need be, get rid of or avoid Izzmahil entirely.

But fate itself offered her a soul as a gift from an outer God of heavens, an Unstar. This must only mean one thing, that destiny decreed she must gain power and take control over the reins of her own life. Why else give a soul to a nanza-cat, of all the creatures of this world? How would a rock dwarf use this gift? What about a mere unintelligent animal such as a fish?

"Why give me, and only me, a soul?" this question only served to hang heavy on her heart so she decided to stop pondering for now and simply be thankful.

Such a gift can absolutely not be squandered and treated like trash.

Soldiers draped in white and golden uniforms marched six in a row between the hulking pillars supporting the entrance into the fortress. The gold trims and metallic parts of their uniforms gleamed richly under the tyrannical sun, and the polearms each carried seemed to become a shiny claw of a monstrous entity with hundreds of fingers. Hoarse shouts commanded them into a beautiful and precise parade. The whole crowd of people below tightened like a fist, with a density that surpassed every imagination. Ssyba stumbled together with them, feeling like an overripe grape about to burst in a vice. Even the air seemed to have taste and Ssyba rolled her head back and gasped as if to draw breath from a blanket of fresh air above them.

Eventually she reached the side of a building and having had quite enough, Ssyba gritted her teeth and clawed her way up the wall. When nearly at the top, somebody grabbed her paw and helped her up on the roof. He was a complete stranger but Ssyba didn't mind. She quickly checked his mystical gate and observed that he had some sort of movement reaction active, as clearly evidenced by the fact that he casually rested on top of a tall building. Maybe he had consumed a vraja potion that allowed him to jump high, or something that gave him the ability to climb walls like a cat. Ssyba couldn't know and did not care all that much.

"Thank you," said Ssyba, and the man merely nodded with indifference.

The crowd down below turned into a thunderous swarm of arms and heads.

Then, from the darkness of the fortress' interior hall and into daylight, the first prince emerged.

First prince Yanamusad was a powerful figure, large and tall as a cave lion on hind legs, with a fierce visage that made the soldiers who attended him seem childlike.

"Who safeguards who?" giggled Ssyba.

She looked on. Yanamusad had a thick and short beard covering a chunky jaw, upon his head rested an olive wreath and both his arms were surely as thick as Ssyba's entire body. Simply looking at him and digesting his whole presence, even at such a distance, Ssyba recognized power. Pure. Flawless. Veritable. Supreme and dominant. This man, she thought, could fill in the shoes of armies. He wasn't merely a prince anymore. All her senses screamed danger at her. As she checked his mystical gate, the number of reactions on it, as well as the shadows of his faded ash mana quality overwhelmed her. How many of these were strength enhancing reactions, how many reinforced his durability and endurance, how many offered him ways to sweep over the land in mere moments the same distance others would walk on for days? And how many more were utterly arcane reactions from vraja potions unknown by the common man? Telekinesis, elemental control, transformations, instant healing, mind enslavement, hyper senses and however many other magical powers Ssyba couldn't yet comprehend.

Sayba knew some things about the prince: before his ascension to the First Throne, Yanamusad had been the second prince and an renowned general in Yasha’Lafiq amassing a wide reputation as an izzia hunter and hive destroyer, but by herself, Ssyba couldn't have known the sheer power one man could hold.

Until today.

For several more moments, the atmosphere reverberated with the cries of the crown while the prince stood there before and above them all, waiting with a menacing, boiling patience. He was smoldering, thought Ssyba with some amusement. It was clear to her that this man was a creature of action and deed, not empty promises.

After Yanamusad settled in the place of honor at the front, the other members of the royal court filed behind him one by one, each flanked by a pair of close attendants and each of them took their respective place of honor, by rank:

Medzanalfif took the place closest to Yanamusad, as the second prince of Yasha'Lafiq. He was tall and saturnine, but decidedly handsome in a very specific somber and aristocratic manner. Ssyba inspected his mystical gate and noticed many reactions boiling in it, as well as the murky faded ash mana fuming all around it.

The next one was a woman, dark and powerfully built with an aura of ferocity unlike anything Ssyba had ever seen, except maybe in her brother Ran, a nanza-cat closer to a tiger in temperament and raw might, and of course except Yanamusad's. However, in this woman's eyes there was a murderous scrutiny and an absence of anything else, so much so that it made Ssyba uncomfortable. It became obvious then, that this woman and Yanamusad were of the same blood, sister and brother. She was Kimasta, the third princess of Yasha'Lafiq.

The person who followed looked like an ordinary middle aged man, with short hair and a clean shave, and he sported such an undemanding smile that Ssyba thought at first to be out of place. However when she inspected his mystical gate, she nearly plummeted from the rooftop from dizziness.

Why?

Well, Ssyba knew of only a few types of quality of mana beforehand, each denser and darker than the other, thus more powerful. Light mana (clear spring and white cloud) and bleak mana (gleaming silver and faded ash). However, the humans of Jord categorized mana quality in more than these two pairs. What Ssyba saw on the fourth prince was starry night mana, a quality even above faded ash. It was so dark that she had to close her eyes and drop down on all fours, or else risk falling down. Such a tenebrous sight was heavy on the soul! Just how powerful was this man? His name was Basan, and he was the only person in the entire Alyriam desert belt buckle with starry night mana quality! He was capable and smart and had accumulated a tremendous influence over the many decades of his life. Back then when Iriazel ascended to the First Throne, Basan was already an established figure of Yasha'Lafiq, a lower half prince rising slowly and unperturbed through the ranks, though he never particularly battled directly for the Throne. He became one of the main pillars for Iriazel's hundred years of peace, together with Medzanalfif, and somewhat of an enemy of Yanamusad. Unlike Medzanalfif, Basan openly supported Iriazel and was vocal about maintaining peace. A family man and an enjoyer of vraja arts, Basan loved the quiet times and ponderous research, fully utilizing his gargantuan mana to further the field of vraja potion usage.

Even though he was considered an enemy of Yanamusad, the new first prince couldn't make a move against him because of his sheer coverage. Basan was stretched all across Yasha'Lafiq, maintaining many applications and reinforcing many endeavors. His dense and near limitless mana (by common parameters) managed to cover many habitual weaknesses any other prince would face. One part of starry night mana quality equated more sheer mana quantity than the entire city of Yasha'Lafiq at once.

Closely behind Basan followed another prince. He was stiff and bony, tall like a willow tree and pale, yet not ugly. There seemed to be a soullessness and an uneven gait about him and Ssyba rolled her eyes, thinking:

"Another…"

Another monster in human form. Ssyba had already developed a sort of instinct when it came to the princes of Yasha'Lafiq; each and all of them seemed to be wrong, almost inhuman. His faded ash mana stretched in all directions like a spider web into nothingness, as if split into a myriad of echoes. His name was Naj, the fifth prince, also head of the guards, principal of the Temple School and great grandmaster of the Guild of Constructs. Marduni only knew what esoteric knowledge this man held in his head.

Then Ssyba shuddered when she saw the sixth prince walk into plain daylight. He looked fearsome and was taller than anybody else present, even when hunched at his back. He possessed six clawed arms. Each arm was long and bulging with twisted, unnatural muscles and it was obvious that this man-creature was tough as a natural calamity. His name was Zimil, and was the sole inheritor of four unbound vraja potions, giving him such a brutal appearance but also permanent power, unaffected by mana quality and quantity. Because of this, he kept his mystical gate closed and maintained his position through staying tenacity and an unbroken cadence.

Vesmia, the seventh princess of Yasha’Lafiq was a soft, beautiful woman dressed in a pure white robe only loosely draped around her curves. Her eyes were drooping and had thick, sensual eyelashes, her hands were delicate and walked with a passionate bearing. She looked almost too perfect. Vesmia was extraordinarily influential, had lived for hundreds of years and many past and present princes and powerful people paid respects to her. To safeguard her secret for such a long life, Vesmia had gained the trust of many strong characters all throughout the city. Among the most noteworthy of them numbered Basan and the late first princess Iriazel herself. Nobody knew how many princes, generals and experts were assassinated to keep her secret away from public knowledge, and how many were enslaved by her with the promise of eternal life.

The eighth prince looked old and dry, his hair gray and his face was full of wrinkles. One eye was pale blue and seemed to have a will and move on its own, while the other eye was pitch black. There was a reluctance in his step and demeanor, and Ssyba guessed that he was nearing his death. In truth, many princes suffered at his hand during his prime as he schemed and plotted. He once specialized in assassination and poisoning but since then, the princes, together with Vesmia, decided to restrict him, afflict him with a vraja curse and slowly destroy him, only much slower and indirect. In a way, he suffered the same fate as Iriazel. His name was even forgotten and he was only known as Espadon, forever kept away from ascending further. A frail husk of his former self. There seemed to be no hope left in Espadon's movements, no purpose and no goal.

The ninth princess, Rithra the Dreadful, was once a woman who consumed an unbound transformation vraja potion, turning her into a mythical angel beast. She resembled a monstrous creature with long, wispy luminous hair that covered her face, and out of her forehead speared a gold unicorn horn. Her wings were folded loosely against her back and both her legs and hands looked like golden eagle claws.

No doubt, the angel beast transformation was at the core of her strength and every other vraja potion that she used was in order to assist this core ability.

It wasn't strange at all. Many slightly wealthier people would choose to specialize in a single direction even if they had the proper funds, because mana was always a limited resource. Truth be told, even for the princes, having more than a complete set of vraja potions to pick from was demanding on resources. They would often choose a main path to focus on and collect complementing potions in order to create a unified and efficient system. Many existing potions in this world could be used together, for example someone who specialized in the fire element would use vraja potions that complemented firepower or modify the mana consumption of fire vraja potions. For example, using water elemental potions together with fire was not only impractical, but also potentially dangerous.

And finally, right after Rithra, arrived the tenth prince, walking serenely into clear daylight. Although all of them were indeed very rich and influential in their own accord, the lower half princes weren't as popular with the public and weren't as powerful and dominant. It was simply the natural course of Jord and the great Yada. More specifically, the tenth prince was the easiest to replace because many rising stars would challenge the position for the chance to ascend. This new tenth prince, La'iaham, was a bit of an exception. He became the personal medicine man for the previous tenth prince, and was recommended and allowed into their ranks upon his death. La'iaham had a gentle glance and an attitude of apparent pity for those around him, along with a calmness and faint disappointment of having seen through the worldly affairs. Even before he worked for the previous tenth prince, he was already a medicine man for most of his life and had acquired many friends and connections throughout both the upper class and the lower commoners of Yasha'Lafiq. He was popular with the people and gained prestige as a benevolent healer who often worked for free.

Even Ssyba knew of him, though not personally, through Tisila and mister Izzmahil.

***

The crowd became louder and louder with each emerging prince, sometimes cheering with such a deafening roar that Ssyba couldn't help but roll her eyes at the insanity. Humans, it seemed to her, always felt the need to worship and make gods out of the extraordinary. And the ten princes surely delivered, they were most impressive!

Yanamusad walked to the main pier that projected from the fortress into the plaza below. As if by command, the noise thinned and subsided and very soon, the crowd finally calmed down in listening.

"My brothers and sisters!" shouted Yanamusad vigorously. "Peace is an affront to our warlike nature, aye, but the fact that you have tolerated it for so long is no less than blasphemy in my eyes! In the absence of internal conflict, Yasha'Lafiq has grown slow, moribund, the people of the great river Na-jid have become lethargic! More than twenty years ago, when the herald storm blasted our walls, you cowered inside. How many of you cursed at your impotence?"

Yanamusad's voice was clear and warm like the sun. Every movement carried an inevitability with it, thought Ssyba, that seemed to shout cataclysmic fury. He acted and posed as if everything said had already happened and been agreed upon.

"Such a voice," nearly cried Ssyba in delirious bewilderment.

It seemed to pull upon her every passion and thoughts like a puppeteer's strings. Even she became incited, enraged, let alone the masses.

"You have become obscene in fear, followers of a false doctrine, one that promised peace and plenty without cost. But know this: peace never was free. It costs a brother, a sister, a daughter, a son! There is no greater abomination than turning a blind eye to it while expecting it to last. When the herald storm hit, you tended to your fireplace when the roof was collapsing upon your heads. You tended to the inside while the outside was lashed and gored! The izzia swarms have run amok unchecked, the badawin caravans can no longer trade with our city, the elemental legions knock at your doorsteps, and you dare cry that your favorite royal personality had died? When was the last time that you glanced upon the desert that you call home? When was the last time that you went out into the sun and looked beyond the walls?"

Yanamusad tossed a thick spittle directly into the crowd, but nobody even dared to flinch. Such a deadly silence had fallen upon the entire plaza that Ssyba could have sworn the people all died of shame.

"Shame!" shouted Yanamusad like thunder. "From today on, we shall war because the planetary collision storm is upon us. We shall loose upon the izzia hives sharp vengeance! We shall make the elemental lords crumble for fury, disperse them into the four winds! We shall reclaim Alyriam and grow strong!"

As Yanamusad reached his crescendo, the crowd gained new vigor and life and began shouting together with him. It was because most people, even merely on the subconscious level, agreed with him. Theirs was a harsh and unforgiving world, Jord, and the price for existing must be paid in blood and war. Iriazel's peace was too sterile, too local for it to last. Ssyba only intuited at the humiliation the other princes must have felt during this speech.

"Then we shall conquer the north!" in the end roared Yanamusad. "The heavens are above us, they await for us, my brethren! Their hallowed grounds promise boundless treasures, untold prosperity for the mighty and the courageous!"

The masses of people all but erupted with fervor and throughout this nightmarish plaza scene, Ssyba also knew, with strange lucidity, that Yanamusad only spoke the truth. Yasha'Lafiq needed to heal itself of narcosis and strengthen its arm.

"He wants everything," said Ssyba.

When she glanced at the man at her side, she saw him groveling and whimpering, his knees stained by snot, sweat and teardrops. She turned her head back at the plaza and the stone and metal pier upon which Yanamusad still thundered his Declaration.

Every word was plump with the emotional exaltation of the crowds. Every man and woman roared and wept and blinked tears away, shivering and drenched in exhaustion. Ssyba looked on at every prince and princess, every upper class lord and lady. Some of them were pale, some were unmoved. Prince Basan snorted and pivoted from one leg to another in apparent annoyance. Princess Vesmia whispered something in Zimil's ear, while La'iaham's eyes darted wildly across the gathering.

Yanamusad was soon joined by three others, two of which were his generals, and a young woman. One of the men seemed to gleam in the sunlight as if his skin was molten metal. He was Talamar, the first prince's left-hand general. The other one was a meaty, dark individual who looked like a badau, a stronger, more ruthless version of mister Izzmahil with an inverted V shaped scar upon his forehead. Except for the military personnel, this badau was the only one to openly carry weapons, specifically a long dagger dangling at his hip, but judging by the intensity of the other princes, Ssyba did not think it would do much good. His name was Fasamir, right-hand general of Yanamusad and one of his personal trainers of martial arts.

The third person at Yanamusad's side, the young woman, was dressed in flimsy silk. She had a great white mane for hair, thick, wild and full, but she seemed feeble and unwell otherwise. Ssyba narrowed her eyes. What was that smile upon this girl's face? No, it wasn't a smile, it was the calm expression of someone utterly indifferent to the secular world around her. Ssyba closely watched on with interest. There was such fulfillment in this girl, such an unfathomable abandonment of life and rule, that Ssyba couldn't help but scoff. This girl was none other than Yanamusad's only daughter, Havasta.

Yanamusad's controversial Declaration went on for a long time afterwards, touching upon many societal problems that plagued Yasha'Lafiq. One of them was the uneducated nature of commoners and the inability of young ones to safely develop and grow in strength, exactly due to this lack of education. The flawed constitution of their city either tossed them into the fires of death like kindle on the whims of the princes and the generals without the proper means to deal with the dangers of the world, or the commoners were simply undersupplied and in dire need of practical use of their mana. This was one of the reasons why vraja potion materials were so expensive, because the average person lacked the means and knowledge of proper and efficient use. Which led to the next issue, and that was hoarding. Nobody wanted to trade and if they did, they asked for enormous prices or laughable demands. With single entities owning more than hundreds of others, the only result was stagnation in a wide area. Yanamusad also took a firm stance against the use of beast folk slaves, attempting to raise their status through new concepts which included paid salary and benefits. This policy managed to hit on three problems: thievery (which was decidedly a nanza problem), violence (which concerned the nanza but included the gremlins and the Cultelari in excess), and the use of paid beast folk professionals and thus relocating vraja potion resources towards more practical areas (specifically the military and the education of people and proper introduction into the three vraja arts).

Every point that Yanamusad raised somehow infringed upon the other princes' interests, although the multitudes of people were howling with joy. Most beast folk present were also ignited by the Declaration, but Ssyba wasn't feeling as stimulated. Already quite bored and throwing her glance lazily across the expanse, she suddenly found herself looking into the striking face of Yanamusad.

The noise below reached new limits but an uncanny stillness settled between the two of them. Yanamusad looked directly into her eyes and Ssyba looked directly into his, even from such a distance.

Then the ephemeral moment was gone. It could have simply been a short-lived coincidence, but Ssyba jumped off the roof and fled nonetheless. Would a simple mouse dare look into the cat's mouth? In this case, Ssyba felt like a mouse and Yanamusad like a lion.

***

Several days have passed since the first prince's Declaration and it was time for Ssyba to go meet with Fagan Stabs for his job.

The sky darkened with a sinister mist. As it neared nightfall, blood appeared to pool upon the edge of the horizon and the last rays poured onto a stage where four nanza waited patiently.

"So, we are finally here," said Fagan, giving Ssyba a deep look. "Recent events have made it somewhat more complicated for us to do our job, but certainly not for the worse."

"What's this job?" asked Ssyba.

"We need to collect some due payment from a commando of gremlins. It's not the Cultelari but they're born hitmen nonetheless. Months ago they also hired me and one of my men and they failed to deliver payment, but that is not the issue."

Fagan led Ssyba to the other three nanza. One of them was too massive to even be called a nanza-cat, for he resembled a tiger more than anything else. That was their older brother Ran, lounging directly on the ground and taking care of his claws. The other two were the twin hotshot brothers Zioz and Shan. Zioz, a black as night, prodigious nanza radiating with vigor and his eyes seemed to shine against his misty mane, he appeared confident and quick-tempered. A veritable archetypal nanza. He advanced rapidly in skill and class and this had led Fagan Stabs to start paying slight attention to him. Shan, his brother, looked similarly black though more lionesque in posture, and appeared to be the more collected of the pair.

"Long time no see, big brother," said Ssyba, going directly to the tiger.

Ran turned to her only far enough to reveal a savage grin that made Ssyba gain some confidence.

"Good to see you girl," he said with a raspy voice which implied the fact that he loathed using it. Not all nanza-cats fancied using human speech. Ssyba instantly understood that Ran only agreed to help Fagan because Fagan had told him Ssyba would come, and in turn he managed to convince Sayba, in part, due to Ran's presence.

Conniving as always.

"These here are Zioz and Shan, the twins of the Bend," introduced Fagan.

Both of them bowed, but Shan was the one to speak:

"Mister Stabs once rescued us in our neighborhood and we said we would repay the favor. We came the moment we received the letter."

"They speak highly of you out there," said Ssyba. "You are always working together and have good teamwork."

"Lady honors us," replied Shan with too much of the common human courtesy for anyone's liking. He appeared to be the leader of the pair, while Zioz scoffed and shook his head in disdain.

"I heard you two once killed a cobalt knight."

"You heard wrong," said Zioz intensely.

Shan patted his brother's shoulder and said gently:

"Brother, you ought to treat lady…"

"Ssyba."

"...Ssyba fairly. She was complimenting you."

Zioz was about to speak, when Shan suddenly interrupted his intent.

"Mister Stabs, you asked for our help. A job that requires us both is surely a rough one, is it not? Are we about to clash with these gremlins, or simply chat with lady Ssyba and then ask for the money?"

"Not that I can't be rough," hissed Zioz while lecherously eyeing Ssyba from head to toe.

Ssyba snorted arrogantly. She had no illusions about what type of nanza-cat he was. She had spent a good part of her life in the proximity of such males and had long ago learned how to treat them, work their levers and redirect their ardor.

"Like I said, the fact that they owe me money isn't important," intervened Fagan, sensing the increasingly heated atmosphere. "It's the fact that they owe my boss money, but they hide with the Cultelari, thinking that will grant them immunity. My boss simultaneously wants to send a message."

"Typical human," said Ssyba. "How they love their messages."

"Yes, but this message isn't intended for the gremlin commando nor their sayadao, but for the other princes. It's actually a chance for us to get hired. If we manage to handle this job well, we will be hired and be under his direct authority, answering to nobody but himself."

"Does that mean the new laws have already come into effect?" asked Shan.

"Yes, may Marduni fill the first prince's bowels and keep his feet warm and children healthy and all that. We can thank him for this chance."

"Who is this boss we're working for?" asked Ssyba.

"His name is lord Talamar, you probably saw him at the Declaration. He must be chummy with the first prince because he contracted me even before the event," truthfully answered Fagan.

"So he knew what would happen."

"What does it matter? It's not like most beasts can organize themselves and entertain high profile men such as Lord Talamar."

"Yeah, I suppose it doesn't matter," conceded Ssyba.

"Yes, yes. More importantly than that, are we to expect the presence of a sayadao here?" asked Shan.

"Here, nah. This is just their favorite den, too poor for Cultelari though. Once they come out of it, I'll demand the money or we'll take it by force."

Shan breathed out with relief. He and his brother had a history with fighting sayadao and they weren't looking forward to do it again. Ssyba too, had experienced the might of a sayadao, though unknowingly. It was the large gremlin that once hit her head with the iron club, the same one who assaulted her at Tisila's house.

Ran's ear suddenly twitched in the direction of the building at the far end of the stage. With an old man's sigh he stood up on hind legs and flexed his swollen muscles. His neck and back was wider than a man's and his claws were always kept sharp and clean.

"Well see about that, Fagan. They arrive," said Ran with his monotonous, gritting voice.

The group of nanza stopped their discussions and looked up and saw a batch of gremlins gradually coming closer towards them.

"Fuck off moggie before I eviscerate your ass," shrieked one of the gremlins, lunging ahead of the group but stopping right before touching Fagan.

He was hunched at his back, only a bit taller than a human child but his sinewy arms and thick wrists promised a strength of iron. This gremlin looked dry of fat and weakness, tough like a leather boot.

"I'm only here to renegotiate the terms of your employment by lord Talamar," replied Fagan to his face, clearly holding back the urge to smack the green guy.

"Renegotiate?"

"Yes, pay my lord what is his due, or pay with your blood."

"Fuck. Your. Lord!" spelled the gremlin with his all too nimble lips, showering with some spittle Fagan's shirt.

Fagan ignored him and pressed on.

"We aren't in whatever ditch you grew up in, you motherless insect. Surrender the money and you can leave."

From the sidelines, Ssyba watched intently. It was merely a step in the wrong direction in order to turn every gremlin in the city into the enemies of nanza-cats.

The gremlins were all taken aback at Fagan's aggression.

"Is this guy mad or what?"

"Care to repeat again, bastard?"

"Did I hear anything wrong?"

They all expressed their shock and indignation at the insult, their faces tight with animalistic rage. The leader gremlin shoved his long, knotted finger onto Fagan's clavicle.

"You're dead meat if you trash Mother again," he said, gritting every word out and painfully pointing his finger into Fagan's sternum.

Zioz crossed his arms and seemed tense and rumbling within himself. Shan watched nervously at Zioz and back at Fagan. Meanwhile, the other gremlins pressed dangerously close but Ran stepped up right by Fagan's side, with a low, paralyzing growl. Despite his utter mass, he moved so fast and agile that even Fagan was taken by surprise.

The atmosphere grew very intense and the feeling of slaughter floated between them.

With a slight jolt, Ssyba wiped her brow.

"Sweat?" she thought.

She looked up towards the darkened sky.

"No. It's starting to rain."

For the first time in Ssyba's memory and in well over twenty-five years, it rained in the Alyriam desert. It rained in Yasha’Lafiq.

"It's just rain," mused Ssyba again with a heart as cold as ice and an indifference bordering insanity. She checked all their mystical gates and all of them lacked mana.

"These fools can never make me sweat."