Tunio walked aimlessly around the market district. Truth, history, school, courthouse, freedom.

The words continued to rattle around his head.

“There has to be a connection, what is the connection?”

He walked past stands selling fruit and vegetables, their selections piled high. Men and women standing behind the stands or gnomes fluttering overhead, all called out their wares to the people passing by.

He turned another corner where the stands thinned, and the pavement was filled with tables and chairs. The smell of cooking food wafted out of the restaurants, mingling with the scent of fresh produce from around the area.

“Truth, freedom, elevation, history,” he muttered again. “What is the connection?”

He continued to walk past the restaurants and turned another corner chosen at random. There were more stands packed high with trinkets and jewellery of all sorts of colours. Many vendors carrying their wares accosted him and he dodged past others showing him the quality or the beauty of a particular piece. He shook his head and stepped past again. He rounded the corner and he looked up.

“Where am I?”

“Are you going to buy something?” a fat man asked, standing behind a cart of fine gems.

“No,” Tunio said.

“Then get away and let the real clients get closer.”

Tunio stepped back and turned away. All about him were people and carts piled high with gems and jewellery. He looked around and saw a shop that had no carts in front of it and dashed inside. The door slammed shut behind him. The shop neat and clear of people, the wall was stacked high with bolts of cloth in various colours. In the window a mannequin was dressed in a white dress. A woman wearing a grey slave’s skirt worked on the dress on the mannequin.

“Be with you in a minute,” she called.

“What is this place?”

She stood and he got a good look at her. She was lithe and well fed for a slave. Her grey slave’s skirt was loose and waved gently as she moved. Her blonde hair was pulled back with a simple piece of cloth to keep it away from her round face. Her blonde tresses fell over one shoulder, contrasting with her pale skin.

“This is a dress shop,” she answered, smiling at him.

“Sorry I don’t need a dress. I just came in to get away from them.” He waved his hand outside.

She laughed. “I understand. They can be quite pushy.”

Her laughter made him smile. “How do you deal with it?”

“I wait until the vultures go home, then I go home.”

“Vultures?” he asked.

“Oh sorry. I came from Ashford.”

He looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t know where that is?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, I am beginning to notice there is a lot I don’t know.”

“Poor thing,” she empathised. “Don’t worry, I was a priest before I was sold into slavery.”

“How did it happen?”

“I think I showed up the high priestess.”

He looked at her blankly.

“Did I do it again?”

He nodded.

“No offense. Did you go to school at all?”

He shook his head.

“Oh bother.”

He laughed. “It’s not a major problem. My mother taught me my sums and how to read and write.”

“There is a lot more to school than just sums and reading,” she chuckled.” What can I do for you?”

“I am not sure where I am.”

“Where are you staying?”

“I am staying at the Whole Hog.”

She frowned.

“You don’t know where that is? Great.” Tunio threw up his hands, “I am lost.”

“I know where it is,” she said. “I doubt I can give you instructions to get home, it’s a difficult route. I am amazed you got here at all. The Whole Hog tavern is clear across the market.”

“I have gone all over the city from there.”

“Yeah it’s in a good spot. This shop is not.”

He chuckled. “So, I am stuck?”

“Not at all. I know the way back; I just can’t leave until the end of the day. You can stay and keep me company if you like.”

Tunio smiled at her. “I would like that.”

“Great.” She smiled and extended her hand. “My name is Irrawella Lawn.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tunio said, taking her hand. It was soft.

She shook his hand in a firm grip.

“I am Tunio.”

“I think we will have fun today.”

***

Anatoli, dressed in black leather trousers and a white shirt with a deep vee, strolled along the marketplace. He walked past vendors selling clothes and cloaks and finally came to a clothing store that specialised in belts. He looked over the belts, many of which were made in leather and silk, with a few made from fur, and a couple made from metal.

The stand owner was a plump, older lady with white hair whose dress swished as she approached.

“Are you looking for something for yourself or a special friend?”

“I am looking for something very different,” Anatoli replied.

“Each piece is unique. I handcrafted each myself.”

“I am sure you did.” Anatoli stepped away from the old lady and her heavy musk. He came to a table with a leather belt with large metal plates on it.

“This one,” he pointed to the belt, “what are you planning with this one?”

“Ah, you have a good eye,” she crooned. “That one is inspired by the king’s notice.”

“The Belt of Veritas?”

“The very one.” She picked up the belt. “I thought it would be impressive enough, once I engrave it with flowers on each plate.”

“I will buy it off you but don’t put flowers on it.”

“Should I leave it blank?”

“No,” smiled Anatoli. “Put a crown in the centre, large stars on each side, and several smaller stars further out.”

“That would look beautiful.”

“It would also appeal to men more than a woman.”

“It would indeed. I can have the belt ready by midday.”

“Great,” Anatoli smiled. He placed a silver piece on the bench… “So you don’t sell it to anyone else.”

She placed her hand over the silver piece and smiled back at him, her smile revealing blackened teeth. Anatoli took his hand away and it took all his control to walk and not run away.

***

Nitidia approached the dais. The wide hall was filled with gnomes and other races in attendance to the king, their dress a riot of colour, jarring to the eyes. At the far end of the hall, on an elevated dais, sat King Angularis on a throne made of ivory, the stairs ebony, to symbolise the king’s mastery of justice.

“Citizen Nitidia!” shouted a herald.

Nitidia approached the king’s dais and bowed low, standing on the ground to make a petition as custom dictated.

“Your majesty, I seek to ask you to revoke the hunt for Veritas.”

“Give your reason,” the king replied.

“I believe that by finding Veritas, the king is meddling in affairs that are strictly the domain of the priests.”

“Explain yourself.”

“Is the king aware of the eight seals?”

“I am aware that the priesthood believes they exist.”

“Your majesty,” Nitidia bowed again. “in the first era before the first calamity was the year of monsters and demons, of heroes and gods. During this era, life was brief and many people died. It was then that the twin gods, Peri and Marcia, the gods of justice, joined with the ruling god, the flame, and created the eight seals. The act split the flame into two deities—the holy flame and the unholy flame.”

“I am aware of the legend.”

Nitidia bowed low again. “I did not mean to insinuate that you did not, your majesty. I was merely refreshing your memory.”

“My mind is now refreshed. What new information do you bring to convince me?”

“My lord, I just received word from my friends overseas. They talk about a new movement in Calcadon, a church preaching the end of the world.”

“What does this have to do with Veritas?”

“I must protest!” Doris shouted, stepping out from the assembled people. “There is always a sect of people declaring the end of the world.”

“It seems we have a discussion on our hands,” the king chuckled.

“It is believed Veritas is a seal that holds back the darkness,” Nitidia said.

“Your majesty, the end is sure to come, but why not control when it does, so that we are ready for the onslaught rather than waiting for the seals to fall on their own?” Doris stood beside Nitidia.

“Surely there are other seals?” King Angularis asked.

“There are, your majesty, but if one has already fallen…”

“If one has fallen,” protested Doris, “then we need to prepare to battle the gods.”

“How do you propose we do that?” Nitidia asked.

“We need to seek peace with all nations,” Doris suggested.

“I think we need to stop the hunt for Veritas so that we can prevent the battle altogether,” Nitidia countered. “I doubt we could fight the gods even if all the nations of Sa’sarresh joined us. We have an active defence against the trolls in the north at Fort Northern Wiles and the people of Zapriti are constantly fighting the orcs to the west, and now with the dark elves pouring out of Bloodwood Forest, the people of Crece are under much stress. Now is not the time to prepare to battle a foe that is deemed in many people’s minds to be of supreme power.”

“We could reach a peace deal with the dark elves and the orcs.”

“What about other nations we have not discovered? We haven’t discovered all of Sa’sarresh. Who else is out there?”

“I will need time to consider your proposals,” the king declared.

Nitidia and Doris bowed and stepped back.

“Citizen Anatoli Kaori,” a herald announced.

Anatoli strode forward and bowed low.

“What is your request?”

“I bring to you the Belt of Veritas.”

King Angularis stood. “How did you find it?”

“I followed a long series of clues, your majesty.”

“Nitidia, is this the Belt of Veritas?”

Nitidia strode out of the people observing the ceremony. He looked at the belt in Anatoli’s hand.

“I would need to examine it,” Nitidia said, hand outstretched.

Anatoli handed the belt down to Nitidia. Nitidia held the belt aloft and examined it. The leather was worked by hand and the metal plates finely processed.

“It is the belt,” Nitidia declared.

Anatoli released a breath he had been holding.

“Great news,” the king said. “Bring it to me.”

Nitidia brought the belt to the edge of the dais, stepped up three steps and delivered it to the king. King Angularis wrapped the belt around his waist over his tunic and fastened it.

“Pay the man his money.”

A slave man in a grey skirt walked up to Anatoli and delivered to him a large leather bag, heavy under the weight of the ten thousand folia.

“Congratulations. Your prize.”

Anatoli bowed low and left the audience chamber.

“Nitidia, you now may announce the hunt for Veritas is over.”

Nitidia bowed low and strode out after Anatoli. Doris followed after Nitidia.

“Anatoli!” Nitidia called out.

Anatoli turned on the steps of the palace grounds. Behind him was the statue of King Cordifolia.

Nitidia approached. “I know the belt was fake.”

“Why didn’t you say something back in there?”

“You came at an opportune time.”

“I see. I needed the money to convince someone to give me something I want.”

“You just wanted the money.”

“Can I go now?” Anatoli said, indicating down towards the massive entrance gates.

“Yes. I hope your endeavours go well.”

“Thank you.” Anatoli turned and walked away.

Doris approached Nitidia. “So, you thought that feeding a fake to the king will buy us time.”

“I know that the end battle is coming,” Nitidia admitted. “I don’t think it should be us to fight the gods and any of their monsters they create.”

“If the stories are true, the monsters will start appearing as the seals begin to fall.”

“The least we could do is slow the fall of each seal as long as possible. So that we can at least find a way to negotiate with the new monsters or defeat them. I am worried that the rest could fall rapidly. We need to start preparing people to fight these monsters; the stories have gone out of common memory.”

“Then the first thing you would need to do is find the Belt of Veritas and keep it away from Corvictus.”

“The ballad does mention a lie that keeps a king.”

“I thought that the lie was how the king got his power. Not a lie that kept him believing his kingdom wasn’t crumbling around him.”

“Whatever works. The Duchies of Alyrisi and Ishtaree are agitating for more freedoms. It could be that soon the empire of the gnomes will crumble. If the people believe that the king can’t be lied to it would keep them in check for a little longer.”

“Until they work out it is fake.”

“By then it won’t be our problem.”

***

Aquillia and Logan watched as Tunio left the tavern.

“I am not sure we know everything,” Aquillia said to Logan.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Gazali asked.

Aquillia smiled at the newlyweds. “Thank you for the offer, but you should be enjoying your honeymoon.”

“If you did choose to help, you would to start at the beginning,” Logan suggested.

“It would take us a long time to catch them up,” Aquillia protested.

“It will take some time,” agreed Logan. “Fresh eyes might reveal something we have missed.”

Aquillia sighed. “You’re right, we have reached a dead end.”

Logan stood. “I will get my book. Get yours and we can get them started.”

Aquillia stood and followed Logan up the stairs and proceeded to their rooms. They retrieved their books and returned to the main room where Gazali and Metilia waited. Sitting, they placed the books on the table. Metilia had retrieved the king’s notice.

“The first clue is here,” Metilia said, pointing at the notice and reading the poem:

Honour and glory,

reveal the soul

remain true to your word

and see glory.

Lies destroy the heart and mind.

Truth frees the soul,

Honesty shall humble you.

Gains shall follow.

“The belt worn by King Cordifolia in the battle of Peace Landing,” Aquillia said.

“We both went to the library to find out more about King Cordifolia and got these books, his chronicle, written by Gallia,” Logan explained.

Metilia and Gazali nodded, following along.

“This is where it starts to break down,” Aquillia explained. “Due to some act of the gods Tunio and I arrived at the library when they had no official copies left so we got this copy. The copy’s draft penned by Gallia himself.”

“How do you know?” Gazali asked.

“It has notes in the margin. Mostly about making sure that the copiers knew what to do.”

“Okay, how are the two copies different?” Metilia asked.

“In the margin is something penned by, Tunio and I believe, Cordifolia himself. ‘A statue I did not seek.’ With that information we went looking for statues. We found his statue and on the statue an inscription.

History and truth bring many to fight

To bring many to light

History is weakened

By how we remember.”

“That is where I came in,” Logan smiled. “I had been reading further along in the story and when Aquillia mentioned the inscription, I recalled…” He flipped his book to a page near the end and showed it to Metilia and Gazali. “It seems that after becoming king of Peace Landing, he built the first school and the courthouse.”

“History and truth. History is taught in the schools and it is weakened if we remember it wrong, and truth is sought in the courtroom.”

“Exactly,” Logan agreed. “So, I went to the first school in Peace Landing and found an inscription on the front gate. ‘History is worth fighting for, learning can elevate’.”

“Meanwhile,” Aquillia took over, “Tunio and I went to the courthouse and found an inscription in the entrance room. ‘Truth frees a man’. That is all we have so far.”

“Wow,” exclaimed Metilia. “You have certainly found something. Let us read the books and I want the two of you to check those inscriptions again.”

“All of them?” Logan and Aquillia asked in unison.

“Yes. Let me know if you notice anything else,” said Metilia.

“What are we looking for?” Logan asked.

“I don’t know. Take notice of everything and see if there is anything common between all three inscriptions.”

Aquillia and Logan stood and walked out of the tavern.

Outside, Logan turned to Aquillia. “I thought she was your daughter.”

“She is,” Aquillia confirmed.

“She is giving you orders.”

“It was your idea to let them look over the material.”

Logan shrugged. “Which one first?”

“How about we do them? School, courthouse, then palace statue?”

“Alright,” Logan said.

Logan took Aquillia’s hand and they walked down the road to the edge of the market district. The buildings changed from stone and brick construction to large crystal spires. The crystal spires gave way to the city gardens and the large walled-off district. They followed the paved road along the edge of the city gardens. The people passing through thinned out as the day grew warmer. They came to an intersection with roads going in three other directions, one through a gate in the walled-off district, one to the government building, and the last through a set of large open gates that led to the palace grounds.

“The school is this way,” Logan said.

Aquillia turned with him. He nodded to the guards who nodded back.

“Do you know them?” she asked.

“Not personally, though I am known in this area. Many of my clients are in this area.”

They stepped through the gates and the single road wound its way between many large sprawling houses.

“This is a very rich district,” explained Logan. “People here are either very rich or very powerful. Don’t do anything to start a scene.”

Aquillia nodded and tried to relax. They came to the end of the road. A school was situated at the end of the road. It had two tall gates closed and in front of them were three very large men with swords and pikes, all wearing plate armour.

“Don’t make any sudden moves,” whispered Logan. “The men at the gate are not just for show. Rich people treasure their children and I would hazard a guess we are in the sights of a least a dozen archers.”

Aquillia swallowed.

They continued to stroll down the street and stopped at a large tree.

“On the gate,” whispered Logan.

“It’s the inscription. There is also a symbol underneath. It’s of a man holding a rod across his neck.”

“I have only seen that symbol once before.”

“Where?” asked Logan.

“At the courtroom inscription.”

“Show me.”

Aquillia turned and led Logan away from the school.

They walked slowly back down the path. When they were outside the walls, they breathed a little easier.

Aquillia took Logan’s hand and walked briskly into the government district. They turned left at the library, rounded a bend, and came to the pillared entrance to the courthouse.

“They do know how to build beautiful buildings,” Logan said.

Aquillia nodded and pulled him up the stairs and into the main room. She pointed at the large marble floor and at the carved inscription on the floor.

“The same symbol,” Logan said. “It is different, sort of.”

Logan bent down and took a closer look.

“Can I help you?” a gnome asked, landing in front of Logan, kneeling on the floor.

Logan looked up at the gnome floating above him. He was dressed in a neat blue suit with black polished shoes. Logan could see his reflection in his shoes.

“I was curious about this symbol,” he explained. “What is it?”

“It’s is Jasmine, the goddess of justice holding Corvitus to her throat.”

“Why?” Aquillia asked.

“It is meant to symbolise that even a god is still subject to truth.”

“Where is Corvitus?” Logan asked, standing.

“No one knows,” the gnome shrugged.

“Thank you,” Aquillia said.

“Are you interested in Corvitus?”

“Not really,” answered Logan.

Aquillia pulled him away and down the stairs to the street.

“I think we have something,” Logan muttered to Aquillia.

“I think you’re right. We need to check the statue and see if the symbol is there also.”

Logan nodded and indicated to Aquillia to lead.

Aquillia took his hand again and marched back the way they had come. Returning to the junction, they turned to the palace gates.

“Hey! You,” a guard called out.

Logan and Aquillia froze in place. The guard ran up to them.

“Are you carrying any weapons?” he asked.

Logan and Aquillia shook their heads.

“We left them in our rooms at the Whole Hog.”

“Okay, you may proceed,” he said, smiling.

“I think Nitidia was right about this place,” commented Aquillia. “The guards really do only care if we have a weapon.”

“Good to know,” Logan said.

Aquillia smiled at Logan and led him down the paved path to Cordifolia’s statue.

As they approached, Aquillia saw Anatoli walk into the palace. She furrowed her brow and shook her head.

“Something the matter?” Logan asked.

“No, I thought I saw someone I met a few days ago. It’s nothing.” Aquillia pointed at the statue and then went to the front of the statue and looked at the inscription.

“It doesn’t have any symbol underneath,” Logan said.

“It appears so,” agreed Aquillia.