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An heir's oath.

A sold loyalty to a prince born, in this case, a cursed inheritors defender whose only job is to protect his master. He can kill people if he doubted them and none would suspect his logic. He is a general. An Armin.

Hann Slantis is a living promise. And we were a bunch of misfits from the very destination he would be awaiting threats from. The pouch of coins gets heavier the more I think of who gave it to me.

I look around to detect a pole, preferably so that I could hit my skull on it and call it a dream. There was no way I was a hair depth close to my end a while ago after I had spent years to reach today.

"That was him"

Dorin declares with a harsh whisper for the second time. With Slate hung over his shoulder- gloriously passed out. it wasn't odd that Dorin was overcome with how bizarre this day had tuned out. We were reading through our paths, learning trades and behaviours- understanding this city with the sight of an eagle for a moment.

But next, not so much.

We weren't doused with admiration anymore. In its place, a dread had taken its roots in our spirits. So when the Armin had introduced his title- Slate had passed out.

He barely held himself before, so we embraced the reasoning with open arms as we concernedly crouched over the drooling lad who we know nothing about. We called him our dearest friend and roped it as an excuse to help him rest. We didn't quit putting a distance between us- not unless we were riped with surety of any such uniformed officials breathing the same air as us.

All time I felt his eyes on us. On me. I hated how scared it made me feel.

"That was indeed him"

We were standing in a quiet passage outside an inn, I turn and hold Dorin's troubled gaze.

"I know," I say. They were my initial words and something Dorin had been perceiving.

"Then why didn't you say anything?" He sighs, running his free fingers through his hair. The flush showed through his tan as I was suddenly taken hostage by guilt. Preoccupied with my hoarding and need to search for a safe place I had entirely forgotten about him.

"Forgive me for my ignorance. I can't seem to think properly"

He merely watches me, and then his features soften.

"I understand," he says "But you have to tell me what it is, communication is required in order for me to be of some help. I can do more than chop woods and carry this gear of a man per see" he smiles, he does it to amputee the tension that seems to loom with each stop.

It works its splendors, he was my refuge. And it makes it impossible for me to bunch his nerves up when he already was carrying a load.

"I think we can buckle up for a good rest now and let the worry wake us in the morning" I shove my hand inside the pocket of my trousers and pull out the bag of credits I earned. Keld has been known to harbour the desires of sinful gamblers and a fortress of sensuality in its heart. The only time in the year it receives some decent tourists are when they host the annual fiesta. The festival of found.

Or so have i read and as we were told to imagine.

A month-long carnival at the toe of spring, not that I know what a Spring blossoms like. But it's deemed to be beautiful. With birds withdrawing from migration to warriors returning from wars, visitors from all over the Antar and the befriended kingdoms travel and cruise over the event. It ends with a classic celebration of arts, invention and heritage.

But also the dark and dire display of power and success by warrior trials. Where young men and women, regardless of ability or the lack of it are allowed to take part in a twisted prosecution held in a platform, They are made to fight creatures and wilds till one of them had morbidly given up.

People had died during this procedure. But yet the thirst for authority makes them blindly jump into the excruciatingly foolish acts in a chase to be seen. To be regarded as something classically more that a simple knighthood. More than the disposal of Warriors in war. To be regarded as high -

To be considered an Armin.

"How is it that we are so in time for the trials?" Dorin emphasised sarcastically. He walks, grunting as he hoists Slate up when he slips.

"My brain hurts from taking a guess" I played along.

"Oh heavens be safe" he exclaims as we take the deserted stone stairs "You believe its Cheif Caelum and his hospitable little companions behind our scaling schedule?"

I bring a hand to my heart in shock.

"You don't blame those kind supporters who gave us food and took the nuisance of Castlena Birch away from us" in such a play I attempt to hope for nonchalance in him. But wrong was i. Her name drains the ease from his face and we are back to brooding.

He might need time to heal from her. Though her betrayal should have manned it easier- it only could ail so much for a boy who had been in love with her since he was eleven.

Fixing myself I turn to my right and tap on the rusty bell upon the brown desk gathered with dust and ink.

A worker rushes from the room nearby and bows at us.

"How can we be of service?"

I took a glimpse of Dorin slowly sinking into a state of melancholy, state of Slate who had been dropped to the ground in an uncomfortable heap of limbs and my stash of bills that needs to be saved for the future.

I drag in a deep breath.

"One room for the night"

***

The one night tails into two. Then three. Courtesy to the fickle of illness that Dorin came down with, he barfed the contents I fed him twice in an hour each. He kept sweating through his clothes and had a riddled expression worn. He slept and barely spoke until yesterday. And was surprisingly recovering as of this morning.

His hibernation left me to revive my acquaintance with Slate Willow. It wasn't pleasant to have his help as he offered. He was supposedly grateful for what we had done for him, which wasn't considered much. His lax drunken body needed us much as we needed him to slip out of the dire situation. But there wasn't a reason why he should know of it.

Instead, I narrowed the unimpeded time and used the free ticket he offered to watch the commotion in the arena. Where I realized that brain is an enigmatic organ, it attempts to perceive the nature of events with its own beliefs based on the person it belongs to. And weighed by the experience he had.

I have lived a life of ruthlessness and frozen emotions, and none of it had prepared me for the moment when I saw the colossal ground with raised coliseum for the audience. So vast and wide that my neck began to cramp from scaling it in one go. It was a ring that hosted the whole city at its core. A glimpse of analysis and the chronological order of hierarchy fell into sense.

They were stages above us, where I sat, the dust heaped by my toe. Grossly inapplicable for them to let their feet be touched by it I assume. But that wasn't an aspect that piqued my curiosity, it was how my mind refused to perceive that all these viewers were elated to witness a raw display of violence. Blood, bones and gritted groans. It chilled my insides and charred my interest.

The participants were young, youthful, dressed in armoured suits and a weapon of choice. Few had guns, some carried swords, and there were even arrows flying at some point. The animals and any form of beasts introduced were smart and erratic. They were hungry for a win as much as the opposers were.

There were rules that I hadn't known of, the fact that I was unaware seem to have lulled Slate into a costume shock.

"Why are there two participants in the arena?" I had asked relentlessly, craning my neck and fidgeting on my seat to grasp a better sight.

"How could you not bear knowing such basic rules of an Antarian festival, while you significantly won a bag gold from - lord have mercy on you both- General Slantis? I suspected you to be an intellectually gifted person"

"I believe I was able to hon my rather important skills than these trivial competitions"

I earned a gasp and a grunt in a friendly form of information before he actually flooded me with his opinion.

"You may not consider this important, but for rest like us- it is to be them" I patiently waited to house a guilt, it never happened. Instead I was amused.

"Is that why you have been stretching your turns number up, you said you will go out there today" I took a peek of the number on a golden slip- yesterday it was fifty-two, but today a good fifty more added to it.

"I am anticipating the last day, that would be tomorrow"

"Why so?" I ask, now genuine in dialogue. Slate ran a finger through his soft blond curls as his cheeks flushed innocently.

"There will be certain people of calibre, they attend the last day so that they could end the festival with a glorious note. show of power and dignity if you see it that way" I arc my brow when he refused to meet my stare.

"You want to be noticed by someone" I state, directing my gaze to the two boys who circled a strange serpent-like thoment. A lethal predator nevertheless. The animal or a reptilian hazard was larger than any of the creatures I had ever read or seen of. Stillness recedes as a scream cuts through. Whatever the monstrosity of thing that was had its teeth sunk in the boy's arms. The traces of blood soaked his light blue suit as none uttered a syllable.

"What is that?" I whisper, in silence, it felt louder than It should be.

Slate doesn't answer, But he watched the other boy stroll to the opposite direction and he yells. He yells at that thing. - He was attempting to garner its attention as it does the trick. It spits the one he had pulverised between it's teeth as the boy hits the ground with a groan.

I swallow a lump in my throat as I survey , skidding to the edge of my seat I merely watch as it slithered to the one who stood its ground, he did nothing to stumble for his safety,

He was calm- he was prepared. But for what?

The serpent opened its large jaw,

He dropped his sword.

Shrieks and cries sprouts from the crowd. Faint, but there. I looked at Slate to see him analytical towards something that should twist one's guts. But it didn't, he seem to know a page of something that I and a few that worried, didn't know.

And then it happens.

The boy brings his hand up, grabbing both ends of the beast's jaw with his bare hands. And in place of struggle, he grinned against the painful moan that rang from the beast. He stretched its jaw, ripping it from its locks as the string of flesh tears through. His dark hand pushed against the ashen skin of the animal.

A thin smoke vapors from where he touched it.

He flips it with a victory holler as his injured mate ran towards him, grabbing the sword from its forgotten drop he rammed it through its heart.

Haunting silence befalls, none cheers or claps or erupts into a pace of appreciation. But slowly one after they got up on their feet. A strange kind of honor in their gaze. Later of then, it happens, a roar of celebration. It doesn't stop for a long time.

Slate joins on it too-

"What happened?" I asked- perplexed to the junction where I stood up to mimic a crazed audience.

"He probably would make it to the Armins court" slate pitches his voice high so that I get his regard "That sound? It is how his village or town shows its support"

"But- but what was that thing he fought?" I ask as the sheer rattle of the mob dies, "Why where there two opponents fighting the same animal?"

The response I anticipated from Slate Willow wasn't that of remarkable help.

"Under what guardianship have you been living under for the past fifteen years?"

I listened to him after that, like an obsessed pupil.

It was understandable where the surprise came from. They weren't the creatures of birth. Apparently, they are called instigators. Evil species born of Ventims discovery, braved to be disposed off in trials. They instigate a test and are subject of use and violation. Some are pets belonging to a highborn, lend for the favour. The rest are bred for this day.

As slate mentioned, the two opponents could be three, four or five. A team even- only if you're prepared to duet with the malignance of what they have under the ground cell. I remembered the manner our exchange had to unfold-

"So you would rather fight alone than have someone in team?"

He had stared at me for a moment and then sighed in what I believed was a matter of disbelief. As if I was still a child in need of grooming and salt baths.

"The more in numbers the unbeatable the instigator that gets appointed" I nod, hoping to smooth his nerves.

"But how do they know of our strengths?" I demand? Instead of feeling small, I attempted to play the supposed fifteen-year-old, uneducated lad from a depressed village to satisfy my curiosity.

"There is suspicion of Ventims that could sense the depth of power the person in-ring carries. Like how we witnessed the ideal strength of the fellow participant today, the smoke we saw? I presume his pores sweats acid or something, a leverage, so you receive an anomaly that looks like a thing out of mythical scripture to fight"

He read the apprehension on my face as he attempted to dilute the distaste I felt.

"There are merciful options too" he reasons with a flickering smile "One can go alone, but if he or she is struggling to get its act done, a friend or fellow participant can reach the arena without a foul. You are allowed to help them but at one obstacle"

I had braced for it, he seem to have taken joy in the role of a teacher as he cunningly smiled.

"The instigator gets changed in the middle of the fight, with something else deemed more fit for the new addition of player in welcome"

***

Leaving the essence of the festival battered the vigor back into my arms and legs, my body seem to flow with warm blood and my cheek tingled with the atmosphere that lacked civilians. The night had taken its job precisely, with dimly lit streets and a moon following me- it tickled my want for peace at the moment. Finally getting what I needed had been a luxury in life, even the prospect of being left alone was too much to bargain for in past.

The spree still went on behind, I recall how a young woman had attached herself to Slate's hip and I was long forgotten after that. High tents and open houses were packed with dancing people, buyers, traders and marketers. At forbidden corners, some sold wares, while few sold people. I wouldn't know what or how, but no one speaks of how strong their teeth are and how their arms could pack weights into craters unless it's your body that's being traded.

There were discussions about seasonal weddings and rumours with impressions on highborns love life. They chatted about everything that walks and rests under the sky. It was a medley, a series of every kind seem to belong here just fair. It was a strange sight to me. So many people. So many actions. So much to do.

And I belonged no where. To no one. I was nothing.

I craved to be alone despite of the silly envy that I tucked away as an afterthought. The thrill here is so rapid, I seem to be cemented in my history. Slow, pathetic and unmoving. Getting out of there felt like freedom.

Just like how I believed getting out of Ivyaki was one.

So so foolish.

So I embarked on my own excursion. Dorin can wait to hear about my day, similar to how he had been keenly lending his wilful ears to my dramatic monologues. At some point, I remember being excited about a monkey juggling pears for wages on street nearby. And that should be on the esteemed list of why I have easily passed off as an adolecent.

In my mission to find inner peace, I decided that walking around a clinically empty city at the pitch of the night was a fabulous concept. So when I found myself in rustling woods, I realised that subconsciously following a matted star-studded sky was an imbecilic thing to do. And instead of turning around, strolling further into the abyss was merely an invite to danger.

But I do it.

I was moving before I was thinking.

I touch my pocket, consulting my knife for a reassurance. I couldn't find it there. Must have lost it during the hustle.

Must I leave?

Certainly.

But must I leave after my vision seem to have picked up a glowing outline- especially when I uncovered through the bushes was a pond that shimmered from within its depth?

That is debatable.

It was enchanting, the beauty of whatever made it happen. It was soothing to eyes, a hue of green and blue, like little pearls it reflected the lights from one another. Brighter in the corners where it met the ground, but faintly visible - everywhere.

My lips part as I crouch with one knee to the ground. And it's when I see them, the tiny flowers growing by the bed, wet with water and dew. While it wasn't itself- it's the pollen that glistened. It was them- the cause of light.

I wanted to touch it. So I incline to do so- I try to reach it, but before I could, my sole slips through. Rocking my posture as I cheep waiting for a drenching fall.

It doesn't happen.

Not when I felt a stronghold and tug at the back of my collar. Startled at the prospect of tumbling over if whoever or whatever that had their vice on me decided I wasn't much worth holding on to. I squirmed, making myself smaller so I had enough ground to reclaim my posture.

But mercifully I got elevated with a pull, and once balanced on my feet I was released. My body settled in means of a sack of limbs the second the strong wield disappeared. But stronger was the presence behind me, unmoving and brittle with the silence that I could only wish for it to be human.

I turn, not a whimper of my movements was heard. My heart hammered with images of gore and gross. Salivating fangs, spread claws or the most haunting of all- a warrior with rifle to my head. But it was none of it. It was far from any lucid imagination of mine. It was a man.

A man whose celestial eyes reflected the serenity of sea. Deep, mystic and immorally intense- and he was, merely watching me. He ferried no weapon, not a single stick on him and yet I took a cautious step back at the note of the checkered dark scarf that veiled his neck and lips.

"Much obliged," I say when his efforts to cut the quietness was nothing more than just a judgemental stare. May I be forgiven if I put a false name to his emotion,- it wasn't something that I could explain. And I could solidly proclaim to be a natural at reading people.

But people were common,

He appeared to be anything but that.

He stood tall in his immaculate raven coat, the collar thick and crisp. It would be safe to say that his attire was darker than the night itself. So was his hair. When he tilts his gaze, releasing me of his stare and focused on the pool of water in front- I exercised my breathing.

A strand of his hair flicked to the side. Even his brows were a sculpt of art. And I knew nothing about art. The closer I ever came to admiring one was a tattered sketch of Antarian map from the old man's unused journal.

"I thank you," I say again, the hollowness of our one-sided communication was irking me. He could be the son of a rich merchant, a spy, or a hallucination of mine. But I desperately felt that I owed him something.

So I strike a conversation, regarding how he had his hands tucked neatly inside the slits of is coats pockets.

"I had been admiring the flowers when I slipped, I assure you sir I am usually not this clumsy-

"Poison"

"Pardon?"

I croaked in an unpleasant manner, dancing my tone to meet the demands of a boy in puberty. While his-

"The flowers are poisonous"

It was quiet, just tenser than a whisper. But sinfully firm and deep. I could only shamefully wonder what it would sound like if he seriously carried an attention, let alone use the passion behind it.

And it was unethically disarraying my mind as I fruitlessly ask-

"So- I could have died if I had fallen?"

He peaks a glimpse of me with a relaxed blink, then continued to find the waters and poison further interesting than to explain to a hay wired boy about the obviousness of his question.

"Forgive my question. That idea that I could have died brings out the sheer stupidity in me" I lift my shoulder in a shrug but got caught in a trance when I noticed the squint of his eyes. Almost as If my words did reach him. Humoured him? I would never know. Similar in a fashion why I was attempting to please a stranger who had half his face hidden.

Then I spared time to look at my surroundings, and then I took deliberate steps to stand on a patch that wasn't laced with those said deadly pollens.

"What attracts you to be here sir, when its as hazardous as it comes?" I grumble not awaiting an answer, it was a mumble for my own theory- he shouldn't even have heard it-

"Because no one ever comes here"

My gaze snapped to him while his were yet fixated on inanimate entities. Inwardly, A sigh bubbles up- I swallow it and tip my head in courtesy and respect. Though young and in youth- he was older than me, that was vivid. And Antarians value respect and much as they did with prestige and money. But he - he didn't acknowledge any of my surrendering lowly ness. I thanked him once again before I left.

Against my will I looked through my shoulder as I wandered away, watching him gently get on his right knee as mirrored to what I had done earlier- I don't stop him when he plucked the flower that he himself had deemed toxic.

Nothing happened to him.

Not when he was gloved in a shade that inked his hair, boots and clothes. And in that very moment, he seemed something so severe that it became hard to stay there and race my mind.

In that moment he almost seemed so- untouchable.

The kind I know I should resist and ignore.

And it's a good thing that I am devoted to my instinct.

So...

I need coffee now. A real strong espresso may be. Do vote and comment. ..and welcome new ones here. They may seem surly but do we all not all have a long way to go ;)