Morn, Sir of Febla: 33 Xiven

“Have you been here before?” asked Kayin, more to try and get rid of the awkward silence he’d caused by his questions. Dhekk walked with such purpose, without asking for directions, without glancing more than a moment at landmarks and signs. As they walked into the heart of the city and the day grew warmer, the road they chose was paved with smoothed stone, and wide enough for two different paths of crowds to walk at the same time. Where did all these random people come from?

“It’s been a while,” Dhekk said as they hesitated at a crossroads. “Ah. Here.” Unfortunately, they turned into even more people. And while Kayin could see through the shuffling citizens relatively well, everyone was so loud, chatting, yelling, haggling—and they moved so quickly and purposefully throughout the different homes and market stalls. Sometimes, the road bent around a corner that didn’t quite make sense, and the buildings grew to strange shapes from triangles to skewed polygons, squished up and against a fence for vegetation or another building like last minute afterthoughts.

This part of Urbana smelled different: sweaty, even. The sounds of hammers against wood, chiseling stone, were the only pieces of evidence Kayin could tell that this dense, old part even had any sort of regular maintenance. Some buildings had fresher paint or more perfect stones, but were always crammed to the very edge of the road or looked as if they were just plopped in whatever empty space was left.

At the end of this road, Kayin could see, stood a two story building made of bleached bricks, and boasted an intricate entrance with swirling designs etched around the large double doors.

“Is that where we’re going?” Kayin asked. Dhekk grunted in confirmation. “Anything I should know before we go in?”

Dhekk thought for a moment, leaving Kayin to focus on dodging a fast toddler that nearly ran straight into his shins. He jogged a few steps to catch back up.

“Just like I said before, don’t act like anything you see or hear is new.” Before Kayin could reply, Dhekk added, “and mostly just shut up.” Rude. But without anything else to say, Kayin demonstrated that he understood by not bringing up another thought.

Within a few minutes, the pale building that reflected Rinesa’s rays overtook almost all of Kayin’s vision. He resisted the urge to walk around the side to enter the shadows, just to rest his eyes from staring at it, but soon enough, the heat of the day pushed them into the cold stone amphitheater. The insulation was impressive; it felt like they stood in a cold breeze in the middle of the night.

It made sense, with the ceiling arching upward to an open hole at the top to let out the hot air. The entire width of the building served to provide massive, echoing walls. Steps and ramps slanted in an alternating zig-zag to function secondarily as rows and rows of backless seats. Three of the walls, covered in these stairs, all descending maybe thirty rows until the base: a stage, at which a long table with ten people in expensive robes and odd, tall hats sat. Two people stood in front of them, holding hands, presenting themselves with perfect posture.

Although the steps were uneven, Kayin still kept his gaze mostly on the individuals seated at the stage as he and Dhekk descended. The Council didn’t speak loud enough or clear enough for anyone but the couple in front of them to hear, but whatever they had to say must have been good news. The Council rose to their feet, dismissing the couple.

When the two women twisted around to leave, Kayin couldn’t help but mirror their smiles. One of them had what seemed to be tears of joy in her eyes, and the other visibly shook with excitement.

“Congrats,” muttered Dhekk as they passed each other.

“Thank you! May Nycaid bless you as she has blessed us!”

Kayin remained silent, instead looked ahead to the ten individuals at the table that took their seats. They murmured to one another. Kayin could finally hear some of their conversation.

“Cute couple,” said one on the very end. “Always love a wedding.”

“Me, too. Shame they didn’t want a public one; I loved their vows,” replied the man beside her.

Dhekk and Kayin paused about fifteen feet away from the table, regarding the individuals in their grey and white robes.

“Hello,” said one man most in the center. His rectangular hat had white, swirling embroidery along the edges of it, different from the others. He must have been important, especially if he was speaking first. Maybe it was because he was oldest, Kayin thought.

“Hello,” said Dhekk coolly. He glanced at Kayin expectantly.

“Oh, um—hi,” he said with an awkward smile to the rest of the people sitting. Even though this wasn’t a particularly tense situation, it took a considerable amount of energy to keep his expression anything other than furrowed brows.

Walking down the stairs wasn’t particularly tiring, especially compared to much of what Kayin had been doing the past few days, but his heart raced as if they still swam through the crowds outside. The feeling in his stomach matched very much like the swirls over the doors leading here and on that man’s hat.

“State your business,” the man from before said politely. He had more wrinkles than everyone else he sat with combined, his skin dry and splotched with age spots. Kayin absently wondered if he used Potions of Mild Regeneration like Aunt Aayin did, if maybe he was actually even more wrinkled than he looked.

Dhekk sucked in a slow, deep breath.

“Council of Urbana, I come with you with a private proposal,” he said, “of a very sensitive nature.” The quiet calm of the room twisted to a cautious curiosity. The council members on the ends of the table leaned forward, straining to hear Dhekk’s quiet voice. “A political one, if you will.” He took this moment to pause and regard every person’s face, making eye contact. Kayin watched him just as nervously.

“Who do you represent?” the man from before asked. Dhekk pursed his lips at this question.

“I cannot safely answer that question.” Just by answering this way, most members physically recoiled in their chairs. Sensing this, Dhekk nodded to them. “I can answer more specific questions, if you have them.”

“Alright,” asked the woman on the very end. Her happy mood from the previous patrons faded quite quickly. “Here’s a specific question: Do you represent an entity or individual?”

“I do represent an entity, a collection of individuals with a passion for a singular purpose,” said Dhekk with a nod.

“And why is not sharing the name of this collection a matter of safety?” she pressed. Dhekk glanced at Kayin for just a moment, frowning with a concern that didn’t feel authentic.

“Because,” Dhekk said quietly, “this entity has formed in response to a grievous crime. Our interest is in seeking justice.”

“What crime was committed?” asked the main speaker with a raised brow.

“Attempted assassination.” Kayin couldn’t help it; at Dhekk’s candid reply, he flinched. “Basic rights violations. Enticing violence. Attempted genocide.” He couldn’t help it; he was supposed to act like he’d heard everything before, like this was old news, but Kayin had to stare at the floor.

“Those are serious accusations,” the leader continued. “And whom do you accuse?”

“That’s the other sensitive matter,” said Dhekk. “Simply speaking the name of this individual, regardless of the acts they have done—and even if they admit to it when presented with the insurmountable evidence proving they are responsible—simply speaking their name could put even you in danger.”

“This—this is preposterous,” the woman from before said. “You’re aware of whom you speak to, aren’t you?” She gestured with her hands, leaning forward on the table again. “Any acts against us is the highest form of treason in Urbana.”

“I’m afraid,” Dhekk continued, “your authority would not be respected by the responsible party. We are not speaking about crimes committed solely in Urbana.”

“Hm,” responded the woman. “So you’ve gone to others regarding this accusation, then.”

“I hope you understand that I cannot confirm or deny that suspicion. I can say it began with an individual and is no longer at an individual level.”

“Stranger,” the middlemost man said again, “are you a citizen of Urbana?”

“I am not.”

“So where does your citizenship lie?” Kayin couldn’t help but wonder this, too.

“It does not exist anymore, councilman.”

“What?” It was someone else in the line of politicians that said it, but Kayin couldn’t tell who said it, just that it was someone that seemed to understand what Dhekk meant by that. “You’re—are you—Tempur, I request a recess immediately!” The man on the other end of the table stood with both hands on the table, his blond brows furrowed together. He looked almost green as he trembled. “We cannot be listening to this right now!” A few of the council people went just as pale, but others didn’t quite catch on.

“Why,” Dhekk started calmly, “you seem to know who’s responsible for my home not existing anymore. Are you making an accusation on the behalf of those of us that have been displaced?”

The leader, Tempur, rose to his feet as well.

“Constance, sit down. Stranger, you are not a citizen of Urbana, and so I do not expect you to understand our laws without explanation: I want to stress upon the line you dance.”

This exchange left Kayin breathless. He now stared at Tempur with furrowed brows.

“I don’t understand,” he blurted. Dhekk took his time to look at Kayin, but he could tell that the expression of patience was not to wait and hear what Kayin would say, but perhaps of patience in knowing he had to hold back shouting expletives to get Kayin to shut up. Unable to help himself, Kayin looked between Constance and Tempur.

“Child,” continued Tempur, “you are dangerously close to committing treason. I suggest you walk your statements back or correct your course immediately or we will have no choice but to punish you within the fullest extent of the laws of the nations.”

“Wait,” Kayin said, his voice tight. “So you know—you know who’s responsible for destroying two whole cities? Thousands of people?” Constance no longer leaned forward on his hands. “You know who did it…and…you, what, agree? Did you help him choose who to kill?”

Dhekk cleared his throat and mumbled Kayin’s false name: “Sadoe, hold your tongue.” Everyone froze in place, staring at one another, watching for any sudden movements.

“Sorry.” Though he didn’t mean it. While the older people amongst him tightened and tensed, Kayin released his tension by shaking out his hands. “I—I didn’t expect…this.”

“They did not make the call, Sadoe,” Dhekk said quietly.

“Did you all know about it before it happened?” he blurted. Maybe it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but to be face to face with people that could have helped, and didn’t, felt heavier than his backpack. He was supposed to keep his expression distant and collected, but with all the heat that rushed to his cheeks, he knew that plain as day, everyone could see how sick he felt.

“I—I assure you, we did not—” Tempur took in a deep breath. “We did not anticipate such a tragedy to befall so many. You have our…sympathy.”

“Thank you,” said Dhekk with a nod of his head. “And you will have mine, should you experience the same.” The expressions of the council each shifted, one by one, to various forms of confusion and horror.

“Are you insinuating something?” Tempur’s voice sounded harsher than it needed to. But his skin still held onto the dullness only nausea provided. Even Kayin could tell his anger rooted in fear. Dhekk undoubtedly intended to stoke this with his half-shrug.

“I don’t believe it’s an insinuation at this point in our conversation. If you knew nothing of the plans that were recently carried out, then it’s clear to me we—and our allies—exist in similar environments. It’s not your fault. You’re just as trapped as we were.” Not exactly, Kayin thought. But after he said this, another member at the table, two chairs away from Tempur, stood up.

“L-look, I don’t know if I can confidently say I understand what’s going on, but I can confidently figure out the consequences. I highly suggest we all halt this conversation and go about our business in other areas!” And while this skinny man gestured to the other council members, no one said anything else to back his suggestion.

“How many soldiers in your army, councilman?” Dhekk asked him as he folded his hands behind his back.

“That—that is a matter of public record.” Though this man, taller than Tempur, looked put together and stern, his voice quavered.

“Fine. Do you know how many soldiers are provided by the Empire, councilman?”

“P-p-public—”

Dhekk interrupted, “I know. It’s all public record. You could ask about the makeup of any army on Ronia. On Akri, even, and get a public record.”

“What are you getting at?” Tempur interrupted with a sigh.

“Those public records merely show where the military power actually lies,” said Dhekk. “And they do not accurately represent the alliances depicted in those armies. For example, Urbana was not privy to the impending battles that we experienced. Not listed in those public records are how Wakino and Lenden knew first, just the makeup of their armies.” Silence overtook the amphitheater once more, cold, charged.

“Leave at once!” Constance on the end of the table shouted. Kayin flinched, half anticipating her to be pointing at him and Dhekk, but she pointed to the very top of the stairs. A man in robes that went to his knees stood, wringing his hands.

“I—I assure you, I have the most important of news!”

“Shout it fast, then!” Constance ordered.

“F-f-fighting at the gates! A mob!”

As the news settled amongst the dozen people on the stage, Dhekk remained calm and watched the council exchange looks.

“Hm. Well, like I said: you have my sympathies. It’s not any more your fault than ours.” Dhekk took a step back and began to bow, but Tempur held up a hand.

“Wait! Wait, you’ve seen this before?” Now the other members of the council started to rise to their feet, scooting out of their chairs and gathering their robes to prepare to move. Dhekk only nodded, but started to turn around. “Help us!” continued Tempur when Kayin also began to exit. “Help us!”

Dhekk hesitated longer than necessary, then turned back to Tempur.

“We will do what we can. Will you help us?”

And, over the shouts of rejections and questions and confusion, Tempur replied: “Yes, you have a deal!”