Part 1

- ALI SALHAB ALBASTER’S POV -

His icy eyes shimmered in the dark of the hallway. An azure glow that spelled death without need for explicity or action. A wordless, silent threat, loud enough to mute us all and deafen us to the outside world. Be it the blood of his opponents drenching his whole body and mixing with his own dripping from his wounds and onto the stone floor, the menacing glare, or the theatrics he adopted so naturally- even glancing at that man scared me. Scared us.

Not just any simple fear, no. The fear of blades, of heights, of blood. Those are fears shared by many and understood by all. One fears blades because of their sharpness, and fears height because of the possibility of falling, but that…was different. The fear he instilled in us all was heavier, much, much more profound, and deeply rooted than the rest. It smelled of ancients, primordial, as if our very souls knew that fear from birth.

I lowered my gaze. I couldn’t bare to meet his eyes any longer yet I felt drawn to them as if it was a passing beauty, soon to disappear. And it did.

I saw the twitching of his body the moment Raphael finished assessing the room. In the span of a breath, he was upon the doorframe with my men on his sides. He had a leg set forward with a slightly bent knee and both his hands rose slightly over his head with the palms facing each other. A choked gasp and a thump followed. I turned my neck just in time to see the second guard’s body fall lifelessly on the floor. The first one had a cut along his torso, separating it diagonally from the neck, from one shoulder to the side. The second guard was cut more vertically as his leg was cut off from his body along with half his torso and face.

Raphael shifted his position once more, reverting to a motionless stance and relaxing his arms by his side. He rolled his shoulders, filling the silent room with the sound of his bones cracking. Then he spoke.

“Tor-tured? You…tou-ched her?”

His words were strained as if he had difficulty pronouncing them. Even the sound of his voice seemed nothing like what it was just short of an hour back. Now it didn’t feel like a human voice but rather a low, demonic growl. A poor imitation. My eyes glanced at his tight fists as new, fresh blood dripped from them, telltale sign of how much restraint it took him to voice those few words.

“I-I-I-It’s y-your fault!-” Shouted the lord, trembling in words as much as he trembled in flesh “- Y-You killed my men! YOU DISRESPECTED ME! I-I’m Ethan Vo-”

His name never finished coming out of his mouth as the air was strangled out of him by a hand sporting way-too-long nails. It was only a moment all it took for Raphael to cover the distance between the door and the bed, disarm the lord and safely throw his sister our way. I gulped and did not trust my eyes as I briefly saw fangs instead of teeth, the moment Raphael spoke face-to-face with the lord.

“Don’t care…-” He replied with threatening nonchalance “...I’m…here n-ow”

“M-My f-f-father…won’t…forgive…you” The lord spoke in a final attempt to use his noble heritage to save his skin.

Fruitlessly.

Raphael closed in on the lord’s ear and whispered something inaudible to us but clearly shocking for the lord. His mouth went agape and his pupils trembled rapidly as even more sweat drenched his fat face. If he felt fear before, now he was experiencing pure horror. All the while, a disfigured low laugh masked as a satisfied growl escaped Raphael’s lips.

Then, the lord was thrown in the middle of the room, right in the center where anyone would see. And he was upon him. Raphael rose his fist, charging it from the shoulder, yet he was slow to deliver. He deliberately took long to strike. Like a cat playing with a mouse, Raphael enjoyed the dread he saw in the lord’s eyes. Then the flurry began. A ruthless storm of fists, fast to deliver but each carrying a handful of seconds of pause in between. Just enough to enjoy the slow results of his meticulous work. Soon it became rhythmic. A slow…heavy…drum, dictating the tempo of his fists and our hearts in sync. The sound of bridled violence, mesmerizing in all its might.

The lord wailed and pleaded at first, begged for a mercy that would never come, but after tens of fists, he spoke no more. Instead, he made sounds, gruesome and animalistic. His teeth were broken along with his jaw, his cheekbones were being smashed with every fist and his nose was long gone. Soon, not even sounds escaped his bloody mouth, only his body reacted by jerking with every fist.

Once Raphael rose from the body, the lord’s face had become nothing more than a bloody mush. An unrecognizable puddle of flesh and bones stuck on top of a lifeless body. A grim smirk shimmered on Raphael’s lips, signifying that his work was done, his rage sated.

Suddenly, the pressure pressing on my temples vanished and gasps of air filled the room. Half my men fell on their knees, holding their necks and chest as if were wounded. The other half stood basking in the afterglow of that awe, and dread, inspiring performance. Raphael’s face lightened. The dark shadows that clouded his face were now gone, placing the face of a seventeen-year-old kid upon the body of a soldier. His eyes lost edge and all his muscles seemed to relax at the same time, forcing him to search for support.

“The. Sandstorm…-” He said in a raspy voice, strained by fatigue. A mix between his voice and the low growl he spoke with before “- will be gone…shortly”

His eyes left mine as his pupils trembled, searching for stability. His consciousness was wavering as the fatigue and the wounds finally caught up with him. He fell to his knees but, before hitting the floor, his eyes seemed to catch what they were so desperately looking for, his sister. Julie, with the shock in her eyes still vivid, now looked at her brother with confusion and fear, yet unable to look away. Just like that, Raphael fainted, closing his eyes in unrestful sleep while my men whispered “storm caller” to each other.

Part 2

Two days passed since the night of the attack. Things changed, fast. Faster than I thought they would. The morning subsequent the death of the lord, I paid my respects to those who perished in the attack. The fires of their pyres lit the dawning sky before the sun could grace their ashes. The lord’s body was shown to the people. Tied to a stake, it was left in the middle of the biggest square, for everyone to see. I made a speech to present myself as the new lord of Blackwall. As expected, not everyone took it with cheers.

As soon as that same evening, skirmishes sparked in every corner of Blackwall. Those who rebuked my claim to the city, those that came from Belza, those who supported me wholeheartedly, and those who thought of me as the lesser evil. All those different people picked up weapons, knives, and blunt objects and faced each other in the streets. A clash of ideologies and opinions. It all boiled down to whether to submit or not to a new rule. I could not say I didn’t expect this. Yet, all those little skirmishes truly amounted to were mere trifles, a little more agitated discussions. No corpse or deathly injured civilian was ever found once my men arrived at the scene.

The same could not be said for one particular sliver of city where battles raged rampant no matter how many of my men I dispatched. It was as if, per tacit accord, every warring party was led to wage their battle in those tiny hundreds of meters of street in the very middle of Blackwall. One may call it providence, others coincidence, but the fact remained that the very place the citizens fought was the same place our battle occurred. Where Raphael’s battle occurred.

From our now crumbling makeshift barricade for about a hundred meters. That was the size of the battlefield…A gruesome sight. A hole had been dug for the whole hundred meters, as deep as a person and wider than the street itself, so much that houses and half buildings fell and crumbled in it. A stench of blood and death rose from the bottom of the trench, where blood, gore, and what little was left of Blackwall guards’ armors. It was a spectacle that had some of my weaker-of-stomach men puking their guts out. I was warned of it the same night the lord was killed. Those of my men who discovered it were in shock, unable to comprehend how could a mere man cause that much death and destruction. I could not blame their terror, few mages ever crossed the desert, and most of them focused their spells on the earthen elements due to the abundance of sand and rock. Though, truth was I too felt terror as I stood mere meters away from the scene. Especially after seeing the state Raphael was in and the beastly behavior he showed. I could not help but recall the warning about a one-use spell, a trump card. I shivered with excitement as I pictured the man in his bloody, grotesque form as he faced off against an entire army.

Raphael himself was quite the surprise. He slept for an entire day and more, from the moment he fainted until sunrise of the second day, never leaving his room or waking up no matter how loud the outside noise. I had given him a room in the lord’s mansion, as I did for his sister, and two healers that tended to him the first night. I was a spectator to the process as I was one of those who carried him to the room. The sheer quantity of open wounds was baffling. Legs, arms, back, chest, abdomen, neck, everything was covered in cuts. Some of them bleeding still. The healers closed his wounds with stitches, smeared them in ointments with healing properties, and covered the vast majority of his body with bandages soaked in herbal oils. Similar herbal oils were chugged down his throat forcibly as the healers feared he had lost too much blood and hoped for the oils to boost his vitality, even if just slightly. After that, he was simply left alone, exception made for the few people I sent every once in a while to check his condition.

The morning of the second day, he just simply woke up at dawn as if nothing happened. The healer sent to change his bandages was surprised when Raphael asked if he could leave the room once he was done. When I received the healer’s report I tried to visit his room but he was already gone, my attention and time completely stolen by my duties.

I expected him to come looking for me for a report on the situation, or so I thought, instead he simply spoke to the guard stationed in front of his sister’s room, inquired about her well-being, and left. Without a single word further he left the mansion and began wandering who-knows-where. In the span of a day, I received tens of reports of sightings of him strolling around the city, spectating a skirmish from the sidelines, sitting on top of the roof of a house, or simply sitting in a corner of a tavern in the slums. It was a complete random clutter of reports, yet all seemed to point at the same thing. Not one of them lacked a remark about how impassive he was and how he did not utter a single word even when spoken to. It worried me. One does not go from raging like a beast as he pummels a man to death, to completely mute and out-of-himself.

Once sundown came, my curiosity and my worry got the better of me. I left the mansion followed only by two men acting as guards and marched my way through the city and to the last place Raphael was spotted. And there he was, perched in between two merlons on the easternmost wall facing the sea. He had his back on one merlon, one leg falling below and the other crouched as if to push the other merlon away. Stoic didn’t really cut it as a description of the feeling he gave off, there, with the dying sun shining ocher rays on his face as the sea below him shimmered like a satchel of hundreds different precious gems. His expression was heavy with thought, deeply buried in some internal strife in his mind while his eyes didn’t even acknowledge our presence. They simply looked beyond, mesmerized by the rhythmic crashing of the waves onto the stone wall. The contrasts between the man I was seeing right then, the man I first met in the desert, and the man who fought like a beast and brought forth a sandstorm capable of covering Blackwall entirely, baffled me. It felt so alien, looking at him seemingly so calm yet serious. I told my guards to stand behind, far enough so that my conversation with Raphael would be heard as nothing more than whispers, then approached.

He acknowledged my presence as he turned his head to me and nodded ever-so-slightly, before turning his head back to the sea. I sat beside him, one merlon separating us, in a position in a similar fashion to his own as my back touched the same merlon his did. Several endless minutes passed in silence as he made no effort to strike up a conversation and I enjoyed the peace and the calming crashing of the waves. The breeze, smelling of salt and freedom, was quieting down, turning that silence previously peaceful to uncomfortable. That’s when I decided to speak up.

“I heard ya tried to visit your sister-” I said in an attempt to poke and elicit some sort of reaction yet being met with nothing but silence “- The guard wasn’t that useful, was he? Well, I had a healer take a look at her, both yesterday and the night of the attack. She’s fine, at least physically. A few scratches here and there and the shallow cut on her neck already healing and patched up. Healer said that there’ll be no scar, so still on the market for a husband, eh?”

I hoped for it to be a joke, a way to lighten the serious mood, but I was only met with a dissatisfied grunt. I gesture I took as a mild threat.

“Right, right, not the wisest to joke of a man’s sister in front of said man. Forgive me. Still, the girl’s fine, shocked for sure, but physically fine. Meals are being taken to her room and a couple of girls are tending to her needs. Though I gotta ask, why not visit her? I heard ya just asked the guard about her health and left. I honestly thought ya would jump at the chance to see her” I said already thinking about what to say next, fully expecting to be met once more with silence.

“...Her eyes” Raphael surprisingly replied.

“Wha?”

“The easy she looked at me that night-” He explained with a note of pain in his tone “- I’d recognize that look anywhere. She feared me. My own sister. She was looking at me with fear…and this morning, when I went to check on her and spoke to the guard, I heard her gasping and panic as I spoke to the guard…I couldn’t bring myself to see her”

“Oh, that’s…heavy…About that night-” I tried to say but he promptly interrupted me before I could finish.

“I suppose you’d like to know what happened, right? Can’t help you. I know nothing of it too…One moment I was slashing away at the guards crowding the street and climbing on the barrier, the other I was smashing my fists into the lord’s face. It’s all too fuzzy…”

“No memory at all?” I probed curious and worried.

“Fuzzy…like a hazy dream” He answered swinging his arms at the sky.

“Do ya need me to describe it to ya?”

“I can picture it” He replied, letting the silence fill that small fraction of the wall once more.

“...The hole, the one in front of the barrier…was that ya doing?-” I asked, being met with a simple and mute ‘mhh’ as a reply “- Then I suppose that was one of ya tricks up the sleeve, eh?”

“Not quite-” He replied with a semi-proud huff “- Close, but not quite. What about the ship?”

“What about it?”

“What’ll happen to it? Do you plan to fix it and have it sail the sea- sands once more, or trash it and use the wood for something else?” He asked as, like a kid, he threw a bunch of small rocks, fragments of the wall most likely, into the sea.

“Neither-” I replied amused “- Repairing it would cost us too much wood, wood I’d much rather use on repairs around the city. And even if I were to repair it, the ship would never be the same. All the masts are snapped, the hull’s busted all over, the pillars supporting it have all broken or cracked…It’s a lost cause. I thought about trashing it but that too would be way too hard work”

“Then you’re leaving it like that? Some sort of colossal monument?” He retorted sounding almost cheery…almost.

“Precisely. Ya know, merchants speak of other cities having statues of their lords riding horses into battle, holding swords, and locking fancy and all. Mine’s got a damn galleon I fucking flew into it as I conquered it. That’s how ballsy I am! HAHAHA!” I answered laughing as I did with much gusto.

“Yeah…that sounds like you” He replied joining me with a chuckle.

Silence fell once more. Heavy, uncomfortable silence, the kind that’s eager to be filled with meaningful words, useless chatter wouldn’t do go. The sun was about to disappear as it shot its last red rays on the world, not quite able to reach us all the way up on the walls. I turned around, dangling my feet over the water and enjoying once more the shapes the foam of the waves would create…before I was forced to sore the mood.

“Ya’re dying, aren’t ya?” I asked with a heavy tone and a slow cadence.

Raphael turned around almost instantly with beastly instincts, sticking his head over the edge and fixing his eyes on mine. For the first time, I was able to focus on them, looking at them clearly, unspoiled by shadows or light plays. They were sunken, marked by black circles beneath them, and lacking the fiery light I first saw in them. Shock was plain in sight in those blue eyes of his, but also fear. Fear of death? Fear of the unknown? I felt a surge of mana from the other side of the merlon and knew that I had to choose my next words carefully.

“It’s not a threat-” I said acting as calm as possible to show no hostility “- Just a statement. I thought ya-”

“How?” He interrupted me with stern voice and a vibrant tone of threat.

“What?” I asked in return surprised and unable to understand his question.

“How did you know?” He pressed on.

“So ya’re not denying it…What I’m about to tell ya is something that’s passed down in my family, legend or history how ya wanna call it, so please keep this between us-” I replied with a heavy sigh as I leaned back on the merlon “- It’s a story from long, long ago, when the gods differed from those worshipped now, this continent wasn’t all desert, and my people were still nomads. The chieftain of a tribe, that would later become the first of the royal bloodline, made a deal with a powerful spiritual being known by ya people as the Forsaken King-” Raphael gasped as his eyes went wide, an expression of pure surprise “- Yes, that reaction quite suits. It was because of that deal that our people would later be hunted down by the heroes and our land ravaged until only sand remained”

“What was it about?-” He asked with curiosity tip-toeing around his voice “- The deal”

“It’s a story passed down orally so it’s all cloudy but, if we listen to what the old ones say, supposedly the deal gave us the chance to open a door for our people, a tiny, minute, passage into the domain of the Enthroned Guardian, in exchange for worship…The legends speak of this domain as a land of the deceased, those who were not able to enter the Circle, thus granting us connection to a domain filled with death. I’m sure ya heard of the rumors saying how my people are all necromancers and devil worshippers. This is where they came from”

“Yet you…connect? to the dead? Isn’t that similar to necromancy?” He asked now openly expressing his curiosity…like a true mage.

“Spoken like a wand-weaver. HAHAHA! No, it is not necromancy. We do not call the dead to walk on mortal grounds once more. We borrow them. To be precise, their spirit, their knowledge, their prowess with the sword, alchemy, magic, shipbuilding, whatever it is they were good in their time alive…Or at least that’s what the royal family used to do…My father perished before he could teach me anything related to the Enthoned’s domain. Nonetheless, the connection still runs deep so I’m able to, ehm, perceive? Sniff? I can’t really put it into words, it’s more like a feeling, a pull to my conscience. Anyway, I can tell roughly when someone’s close to their death”

“That’s…-” He said with wondering voice and eyes lost in thought “- Concerning…”

“Are ya not going to doubt me?” I poked curious.

“No point in doing that. You already know of my death even though I lack any deathly wound and your story aligns with those I heard of the Forsaken King and his lands” He replied plainly, as if it was just a matter of facts. The only logical conclusion.

“Ehm, I knew ya’d be able to understand. Glad I spoke up HAHA!”

“...How long do I have left?” He asked in complete seriousness. His eyes were dark and his pupils looked endless pits or dark wells as he looked me in the eyes, desperate for an answer.

“I…I can’t tell, really. It’s fuzzy…like some kind of mist covers ya. I only had this feeling briefly when ya were smashing the fat man’s head. It’s strange” I replied, ashamed I could not be of help.

“Really?-” He pressed on, a sense of urgency in his voice “- You really can’t? Not even roughly?”

“It’s…*sigh* I-I’d say ya have at best two, maybe three years” I replied grimly.

“At worst?” He continued, creeping closer and closer with each breath.

“At worst…a year, maybe…hopefully…I don’t know” I answered, unable to look him in the eye.

Silence fell once again…now the sun was completely gone and the only thing that lit that fraction of the wall were the lights of the torches from the city below.

“A year, uh…-” Raphael said as he settled back into his original position “- not much…”

His voice was placid, almost calm. As if he wasn’t scared of death or the fact that he had at best three years left to live. As if the idea that he could barely reach the age of twenty didn’t scare him. No, he simply took it as a matter of fact. Noting but a realization. That cold detachment, even from his very own life, scared me more than his beastly behavior.

“How can ya be this calm?” I asked, shouting my concern and worry as my voice slightly cracked.

“Right…-” He replied sighing heavily “- I shouldn’t be calm but I feel like I already knew it. Every time I used a spell I felt some kind of pull, as if something, very small and insignificant, was being taken from me. I paid it no mind at the time but two nights ago, between summoning and controlling the wind, fending off the guards and everything else…I felt it clearly. My life was being drained the more mana I consumed”

“Was it always like this?” I asked, struggling to decide whether it was out of concern or curiosity.

“No, no it wasn’t. It started after leaving the labyrinth. After the…” He began to say before stopping mid-sentence to gaze at his trembling hands. I did not dare to ask further.

“Listen, I know it was a deal and all but ya went beyond giving me the city. Ya basically came up with the plan, acted on it, got rid of the guards, and killed the lord. All at the expense of ya life. I can’t just rule it out as part of the deal”

“Where are you getting?” He said dubious.

“What I’m trying to say is, I’m in ya debt and I thought of a way ya could cash it. How about ya stay here? I could spare some of my men, trustworthy and capable people to travel with ya sister and look for ya dad. In the meantime, ya could stay here, heal ya wounds and live out ya days in peace. Or, as I’m sure a capable mage like ya would, ya could try and find a cure for ya…situation. Traveling around and protecting the girl sure would not give ya time for that…What’d ya think?” I said, hopeful and proud of my idea.

“Thanks-” He said, cracking a thin smile for the first time since the start of the conversation “- but you need those men here, do you not? It won’t take much for Belza to learn of this little stunt and, once the war in Raiden ends, they are sure to come here to reclaim Blackwall. When that time comes, you must have established an army, a fleet, and got whatever help you can get…Plus, my sister’s not the only reason I’m trying to find my father” He said as he caressed a plain-looking sachet tied on his waist.

“What’s that?” I asked, noticing it for the first time and curious about why he caressed it with so much care.

“This? Those are my mother’s ashes. He needs to have her back, bury her, cry for her…I also have- We had a brother, Lucas was his name. Father needs to know how he died” He said as his voice cracked with pain.

“Oh. I didn’t know…I’m…I’m sorry for ya loss, really. I know how much it hurts, to lose a member of ya family…-” I said, receiving a dull silence as the only reply “- Then, what are ya gonna do now? Any plans?”

“...If you permit, I’ll take advantage of your hospitality and stay here for a while longer. My wounds have somewhat healed but I’m still drained, both mentally and physically. I believe Julie’s the same. After that, mmhh, guess I’ll take a ship east”

“Elves or dwarves?”

“I know dwarves are not very amicable with humans, but I can’t leave any stone unturned. Yeah, I think I’ll snoop around the dwarven mountains. I might actually be lucky and find father drinking mead with a bunch of ‘em” He said with an empty, and clearly forced, chuckle.

“I sure hope that’s true” I replied chuckling as he did, to keep the mood going.

Part 3

- RAPHAEL BLUESCALE’S POV -

I lied.

I was neither calm nor understanding about it. About my death. It angered me. One year was not enough. Not enough time to find my father, deliver Julie and finally, hunt down, torture, and finally kill that despicable skeleton that was the source of this all. It just wasn’t enough. I needed more…laughable how the same me who sought to end his life as an infant, was now throwing punches at the wall whilst cruising his fate for the lack of time. Truly laughable. Alas, that was the condition I had to live with, thus meaning that I had to limit my use of mana to only when strictly necessary.

The days passed rapidly in Blackwall. I spent them mostly training my body, skimming through books on curses and medicine, organizing and preparing for the voyage, and trying to fix the relationship between me and Julie. The last being the greatest hurdle. My sister completely closed in on herself, refusing to see me. It was only after the fifth day that she allowed me to speak to her through the door and only two days later would she finally come out.

She was scared. Scared of what she saw, scared of how different I looked. How could I blame her? I knew very well how I looked since I watched myself rain fist upon the lord from a corner of my mind. As if I was one of the soldiers spectating the scene from the sidelines. Wild and gruesome were understatements. Through tacit accord, neither of us spoke of that night, exception made for me making sure she was alright and none of the guards who survived that night did anything to her.

The next five days were spent, somewhat, leisurely in the city. Like tourists. It was Julie’s first time leaving Migur and visiting another city. Even after all that happened to her, her wanderlust was truly something remarkable. We visited the market and brought food specialties, perky trinkets, and soft clothes, all with money graciously given to us by Ali, who seemed to dote on Julie like an uncle. Something Julie took full advantage of.

Whenever I wasn’t with her, she went to bother Ali. It wasn’t anything exciting or luxurious since the new king had his hands full with the repair of the city, the skirmishes, refugees from his old settlement, and overall politics with influential people. Yet she still found it fun, or perhaps stimulating, to go around the city with him, and he would gladly make space for her. One time I even got so curious about the stories that she told me that I followed them around. It was a day when Ali had to meet with a merchant house, one that specialized in trade through ships, thus being fairly powerful within Blackwall. It was a fancy meeting with tributes of gold to the new king, contracts sealed with wax and the royal sigil, servants and everything. Yet, there she was, sitting on a soft purpura cushion next to the king, eating grapes, olives, and smoked fish and drinking juice. Though more than that, what made me laugh loud enough to be discovered by Ali was how the man behaved. Whilst he was talking to the merchants, he was feeding Julie grapes. I actually ended up teasing him about it almost daily from then on.

Alas came the day of our departure. Our vessel was a two-masted brigantine that frequently made the trip from Blackwall to a port city on dwarven land. It traded in iron, gems, and weapons while providing some monster materials eagerly sought after by dwarven craftsmen. Ali had paid the captain our fee which provided us with a shared cabin and the exemption from helping around the ship. Basically, it was a cruise.

I was standing in the harbor that morning, watching the sailors carrying the heavy boxes down the hold while the captain, a tall, squat man with a wide hat and a long reddish beard adorned with braids and silver rings, shouted orders left and right.

“Quite the look ya’ve got-” Said an all too familiar voice whilst he whistled his appreciation for my sense of style as he approached “- I’d say my money was well spent! And here I thought I’d see ya in a boring mage tunic!”

“I’m quite flattered, your majesty-” I replied bowing way too deep, truly expressing how fake that bow was “- But I had no idea his majesty swung that way. Is that, perhaps, why you once asked me to stay?”

“Oh, piss off!-” Ali shouted as he smirked in an overly-disgusted grimace “- Ya bastard! Don’t say stuff like that ‘else those greedy merchants will bring me their male servants as gifts! Bah!... I’d much rather look at a pair of nice, big, and juicy ti-”

“Please! My sister’s here!” I reprimanded.

“Oh! Ehm, right…What was I about to say?” He replied flustered as he searched my sister’s face for any trace of judgment. Finding none, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well, you were making fun of my clothes”

“Bullshit! I gave ya a compliment-” He said as the king huffed his disdain “- Those clothes truly make ya look like an adventurer hailing from Blackwall…a little more refined and with an outsider’s taste, perhaps, but still, not a bad look!”

Honestly, he was right. With my current look, I truly could pass for one who hailed from those desert lands, if only my skin was not as pale as it was maybe. Thanks to the night raid on Blackwall and my battle against the guards, my previous clothes were all torn, thus the shopping sprees with Julie found their usefulness even for me.

I bought a new pair of boots since the previous pair carried a stench of blood that would not leave no matter how hard I tried to clean. They were shorter than I was used to, reaching just a handful of centimeters over my ankle, of black leather and iron-reinforced soles. My trousers, tucked into the boots, were of similar color as my shoes, just a few shades lighter. A small, leather string was tied around my thigh from where a knife sheathed knife hanged. A brownish belt, marked with grey designs picturing sea motifs kept my pants up and supported, thanks to another plain brown belt, a new sword I bought, my satchel, and a small bag roughly the size of a thick book. Tucked in my pants was a cream-colored shirt of a soft material similar to linen that I kept half unbuttoned. Over it, I wore a dark brown vest adorned with linings of a lighter brown fabric and reinforced with leather. I also bought a long cloak with a hood, black obviously, but that was no temperature to wear it.

“Right-” I replied proudly “- Then give your compliments to Julie, she was my styler…truth be told I’m more of a usefulness before style guy…but she insisted”

“Mhh, that seems more like it HAHA!” He said as he slapped my back friendly.

“So-” I said leaning on a nearby wall and crossing my arms “- came here to say goodbye?”

“Ya could say so” Ali replied cockyly sitting on the low part of the same wall I was leaning on, just so he could have a head of advantage in height.

“My, how flattering. For his majesty to grant this lowly me his personal farewells…I’m honored” I said, exaggerating the pompousness of the phrase.

“Tch, ya really know how to get under my skin, storm caller-” He replied with a smug smirk knowing damn well that it pissed me off when the people of Blackwall called me that on the street “- Now that’s enough banter. Other than saying goodbye, I came here to give ya this” He continued taking out an envelope from a small bag he kept tied around his waist.

“What’s this?” I asked taking the envelope tied shut with green and golden strings and waxed with the seal of the Albaster royal family and the adventurer’s guild.

“Ya know, supposedly, it’s illegal to register under a false name with the guild and it’s also illegal to re-register with the guild. Supposedly, I, as the king, should be the one to deliver punishment for those illegal actions. Supposedly, it should be two years of labor, be it mines or farms. But, supposedly, ya were on a secret mission for myself, the king, thus exempt from the said rule. That envelope, my friend, contains proof of ya identity. I have no idea how ya lost ya badge, but with that ya can just waltz into an adventurer’s guild and keep working as ya did before. ‘Course it’ll take time for the main branch to fish up ya old rank and send it ‘round the world, so ya cannot advance. Still, at least ya can earn a bit of coin, right?” He explained with a proud smirk on his face and a puffed chest.

“Honestly, this is helpful…reeeally helpful. Thanks, Ali!-” I replied, extending my hand expecting him to shake it but being met with hesitation “-Uh? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s just…there’s something else I wanted to talk to ya about” He said in all seriousness.

“Something bothering you?” I asked, fully expecting him to dump on me some new problems that rose within the city, just like he did in the past few days.

“No, it’s just…Just shut up and listen, will ya?!-” He said raising his voice as soon as he noticed I was about to press him further “- What ya did for me, the city and this past days, is something I truly never expected. I thought of ya as a pawn at first, ya wanted something, I wanted something, it was just a trade. But now, I can’t really rule it out like that…It’s way more than that, and I find myself in your debt”

“I told you it was not my inte-”

“I told ya to shut up, didn’t I? Let. Me. Finish!-” He said sighing “- There’s this tradition, passed down in my people. A way for people of different social casts, different families, to consider themselves equal, brothers even. It’s called a blood mark. I want you to share one with me”

“...Sorry? What? Are you being serious? I mean, a royal being equal to a commoner? Calling him brother? That’s fancy!” I said, my shock and surprise pouring heavily into my words.

“I’m being serious…let me call ya brother” Ali replied in complete seriousness, so unmoving that I could find no words to refute him. He was absolute about it.

“...I cannot bring myself to call you brother. You know that, don’t you?” I answered matching his seriousness.

“I do, and I’m fine with it as long as ya know I will consider ya as one”

“Fine then!-” I said sighing and slumping my shoulders as I moved to face him “- What do I have to do?”

“Give me ya hand-” Ali said beaming as he jumped up and grabbed a long knife from his belt “- Listen, this’ll hurt a bit, but I’ve brought a healer with me so it’s fine. Repeat after me!-” He said, taking my right hand and placing it, palm against palm, on his right hand with the pointy end of the knife looming dangerously over the back of his hand “- I, Ali Salhab Albaster, swear upon the mana filling my soul and the flesh giving me form, to forsake my station and my status, my wealth and my name, to call this man my equal. Be our pain entwined, our fates aligned. Under the sacrifice of blood and the all-seeing eye of He who dwells beyond, I call this man, Raphael Bluescale, my brother!”

“I, Raphael Bluescale, swear upon the mana filling my soul and the flesh giving me form, to forsake my station and my status, my wealth and my name, to call this man my equal. Be our pain entwined, our fates aligned. Under the sacrifice of blood and the all-seeing eye of He who dwells beyond, I call this man, Ali Salhab Albaster, my brother!” I said, doing my best to mimic Ali’s tone and enthusiasm in reciting those words.

As soon as I finished speaking, the air around us turned cold enough to feel the chill piercing the flesh of my hand. Soon after, the blade, aligned and held by Ali simply by two fingers, fell heavily on our hands, eliciting a pained shout from both of us. It was a third party, an invisible hand, pressed the blade through our hands and pulled it out as soon as the hilt hit the skin. Then, a dim green light filled the wound and freezing cold followed. Blood fell like a fountain from our conjoined hands and froze upon touching the wooden floor. The healer rushed to our side and held our hands together as he began casting healing magic in his native language. A minute later it was over, the pain was gone, and the healer left our hands, bowed to the king, and left the scene.

“It seems the Enthroned’s presence is still strong within my family, even if I have no idea how to use it” Ali chirped merrily as he caressed his right palm.

“What do you mean?”

“Look at ya palm” he said as he showed me his, sporting a new scar as red as blood and in the strange shape of a four points star composed of thin lines entwining together in a circle in their very midst.

I looked at the palm I too was unconsciously rubbing and noticed the same pattern. I turned my hand, expecting to see the same pattern on the back, yet there was nothing. Empty and clean as if it was never pierced.

“Incredible!” I gasped.

“Riight?!-” He once again chirped merrily and proudly “- This means our bond had been acknowledged by the Entrhoned! NOW YA CAN NEVER LEAVE ME! HAHAHAHA!”

“...I’m having second thoughts” I replied facepalming.

“What are ya, a dissatisfied wife? Ya’re now the brother of a king! REJOICE!” He shouted loud enough for everyone working around us to hear, causing the crew and the passerby to erupt in a cacophony of whistles and applause.

“I somehow feel like I’ve been scammed…but I’m kinda glad…Though I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to call you brother” I said smiling thinly without realizing it.

“Time will tell-” Ali answered with a heavy pat on my shoulder “- Then, this is where we say goodbye. Remember, I am ya brother now, if ya need me I’ll be there…also I’m in ya debt so I can’t really say no, can I?...Try and stay alive. I’d hate this to be our last conversation”

“Ali, you may look brutish but you’re really soft inside, aren't you?” I said nudging him on the side.

“Well, this brutish appearance served me fine!” He replied paying me with my same coin.

“Then-” I said as I extended my palm in a handshake “- let this not be our last meeting, Ali”

“Indeed-” Replied Ali as he shook fiercely my hand and pulled me closer until our foreheads met “- let this not be the last, brother!”

The crowds cheered, Julie cried and hugged the king, some soldiers came to pay their respects to the storm caller, and some came bearing gifts and thanks. Then, I was looking at the eastern walls of Blackwall, strong and fierce in their mighty height, from the distance as the ship rocked in the gentle morning waves.