Chapter 3

I deliberately didn’t change my clothes. Drenched in blood, I walked the streets in my postman’s outfit. As the time for shops to open approached, merchants started to appear one by one.

I walked silently among them. Those who caught my eye flinched and quickly looked away. They pretended not to see me, knowing I was Ivan’s enforcer.

In this street, under Ivan’s protection, I was both a fence and an absolute ruler.

I protected those who followed his rules and showed them mercy. But those who crossed the line received no mercy and were ruthlessly punished. Ivan often warned those accustomed to his mercy not to take it for granted.

Today’s chaos at Tricksy’s tavern and my decision to walk the streets in my blood-soaked attire were part of that warning. Ivan had instructed me to act this way.

“Lately, things have been too lax,” Ivan had said. “Signs of people crossing the line are showing up. Scare them a bit while you’re dealing with Tricksy, Najin.”

I was merely following his orders.

A merchant who used to hang around Tricksy and who had been tightrope walking over Ivan’s line flinched and stepped back in fear upon seeing me. I just looked at him silently. His eyes shifted from the blood clotted on my coat to the sword hilt at my waist.

I passed by him without a word. Ivan hadn’t ordered me to deal with him yet. I just hoped this served as a proper warning.

‘Please,’ I thought. ‘Don’t cross the line. Don’t upset Ivan. The more you do, the more work I have, and the more needless killing I have to do. And I don’t find it enjoyable at all. It’s sticky, messy, and unpleasant.’

It wasn’t about moral guilt. It just felt terrible, especially when facing the families of the deceased.

With a long sigh, I continued walking.

How long had I walked? I stopped and looked up, reaching my destination – the most bustling part of the underground city. Here, the best of everything was gathered.

Bright, ostentatious ore lamps. Luxuries made from refined ore. Goods, food, and fabrics from the upper world. This was the hub of the underground city of Artman, where ores mined here were sent up, and goods were received in exchange. It was also the only passage to the upper world.

I headed towards the most splendid building in the area – the domain of Ivan, the One-Eyed, my employer.

***

Ivan, the One-Eyed, was once a knight and a swordsman who had reached the level of a sword master. Though he had fallen into this city, he was still a powerhouse, capable of drawing out sword aura. A strong person like him would stand out wherever he fell, and Ivan was no exception.

He quickly took control of the underground city. He pushed the original owner of the commercial district, Land Spider Horace, to the outskirts and took his place. Ivan crushed anyone who challenged his authority, expanding his power in a long and brutal civil war.

I didn’t know the full story, but I knew that the war had ended long ago, and Ivan had emerged victorious. To this day, he remained the de facto ruler of the city.

And at the same time, he was my mentor and employer.

He had taken me in when my parents abandoned me, teaching me how to survive in this city – mostly how to kill.

“Are you there, Ivan?”

I knocked on his office door. Soon, a voice from inside invited me in. As I entered, I saw a middle-aged man with an eye patch over his right eye.

Broad shoulders, arms covered in scars, and streaks of white hair among the black. This was Ivan’s office, and he was its master. Ivan looked at me with his one good eye, a fierce gaze that could tear a person apart. But when he recognized me:

“Najin, it’s you!”

His expression softened, and he let out a hearty laugh, thumping the table vigorously.

“I thought Land Spider had sent an assassin or something. Why are you covered in so much blood? I thought you’d decapitated everyone downstairs and were coming for me next.”

“I didn’t see any sign that you were worried.”

“Hey, man, don’t you see? I’m sweating here!”

Ivan pointed to his neck, but I could only see tiny scars. I shrugged and took off the postman’s coat and hat.

“You told me to give them a scare.”

“Did I say that?”

“Aren’t you too young for dementia?”

“It’s a joke, man, a joke.”

Ivan lit a cigarette and gestured for me to report. I sat on the sofa and began my story.

“Just as you guessed, Ivan, Tricksy had sided with Horace. I saw some of Horace’s men there.”

“I knew it,” Ivan muttered, exhaling a puff of gray smoke. “Tricksy liked to play on the edge, but he wasn’t brave enough to cross it. But, he suddenly crosses the line?”

He tapped the table.

“So, how many were there?”

“Thirteen. About half seemed to be Horace’s family.”

“And then?”

Ivan’s lips stretched into a long grin. I replied briefly, “Twelve of the thirteen lost an arm or a leg. I left the cleanup to Kabin, who still had all his limbs. And Tricksy is dead.”

“All thirteen without a scratch?”

I nodded, and Ivan laughed out loud, his laughter echoing in the office. After a while, he sighed deeply.

“I bet Tricksy’s face was a sight to see. He probably thought he could handle a kid like you with thirteen men.”

“Tricksy said the same thing.”

“This crazy guy.”

“Tricksy?”

“No, you, you.”

Where did such a monster come from?

Muttering to himself, Ivan extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray, creating a sharp sizzling sound. “If there’s more work, I’ll call you. Until then, take a break. And…” Ivan paused, as if recalling something, “Stay away from the plaza for the time being.”

“The plaza?” I inquired.

“Yes. They’ve sent someone from above. It’s about the Trial of the Constellation that’s about to take place there.”

The Trial of the Constellation. The very mention of ‘constellation’ made me reflexively ask, “What is the Trial of the Constellation?”

Ivan explained, “It’s a kind of event that happens every 13 years. Have you never seen it? When I was five, 13 years ago, I wouldn’t have known.”

Ivan continued, “You know the Constellation, the Sword of Selection, right? King Arthur? Remember the legend where he pulls the sword from the stone? That’s the most famous part of his story. Excalibur, the legendary sword stuck in stone, marked the beginning of Arthur’s saga and later became the shape of his constellation in the sky.”

“The Sword of Selection, every 13 years, sets a trial across the continent – a straightforward challenge to pull the sword from the stone. It’s more of an event really; no one has managed to pull the sword in centuries.”

Ivan shrugged, “It’s about spreading the legend, keeping it alive in people’s minds. Since these swords appear in every major city, one appears in our underground city too.”

That was the problem. Ivan clicked his tongue, “Even though they appear in all sorts of cities, it’s still a sword created by the light of King Arthur’s star. A sacred relic. When such a relic appears in a place like this, do you think those above would stay quiet?”

Considering the perception of this city from above, the answer was clear. “They won’t let anyone even touch the sword.”

“Exactly. Every time this period comes around, the Order of the Stars throws a fit.”

“And if someone tries to approach the sword, they get executed for blasphemy?”

“Something like that. Usually, they just get beaten up badly, but in some cases, they might even get decapitated on the spot.”

Ivan shook his head as if disgusted, “Pretty brutal.”

“So, stay away from the plaza. The guards sent from above will be guarding the sword all day.”

“When will the sword appear?”

“Ivan,” he looked at me steadily, his earlier playfulness gone. As a senior and a mentor, he advised, “It’s best not to stir up those from above. Remember that.”

Pointing to his eyepatch, Ivan gave a bitter smile, “Live within the lines drawn. Cross them and life gets tough.”

Perhaps, it was Ivan’s own experience. Reluctantly, I nodded, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Alright, off you go.”

As I was about to leave, Ivan stopped me, “Najin.”

Leaning back, Ivan casually said, “The Trial of the Constellation starts at midnight tonight. If you find a good spot, you might see the sword ‘planted’.”

Curious, I tilted my head. Ivan sighed and added, “Section 31, Taria’s Tavern, by the window. Use my name, and they should give you a spot.”

Understanding his intent, I smiled, thanked Ivan, and hurried out.

The tavern was buzzing with people not wanting to miss the event that comes only once every 13 years. It was one of the rare opportunities for those in this city, who had forgotten the sun and the stars, to remember the outside world.

A chance to see the stars.

A chance to reminisce about the world they had forgotten.

For this brief view, they were willing to pay double the usual price, especially for a window seat.

At Taria’s Tavern, I took my spot by the window, overlooking the plaza. I had an old fairy tale book with me, “The Chronicles of Arthur,” opened to the last page.

As midnight approached, only a few minutes remained. I stared out the window, swallowing dryly.

Stars, starlight, constellations.

The one longing a boy from the landfill, who cared for nothing of the outside world, couldn’t let go of. Though the stars hadn’t fallen yet, my eyes shone like stars themselves.

“One minute.”

I counted down internally.

A minute felt like an hour. With just a few seconds left, I exhaled deeply and opened my eyes wide.

The bell chimed.

With the sound of the bell, the tavern erupted in cheers. I immediately looked out the window towards the city’s ceiling. What was once dimly lit by ore now shone brilliantly with starlight.

Tiny fissures in the ceiling.

Platinum particles seeped through these minuscule gaps.

It was the first time I realized that this was starlight.

Flash.

The scattered starlight brightly illuminated the ores embedded in the ceiling. Despite being deep underground, the city was brighter than ever.

Beautiful. I thought to myself, seeing starlight for the first time in my 18 years. Lines from the fairy tale book echoed in my head. The brilliant platinum starlight.

Ah, I sighed unwittingly.

Then, the starlight gathered, forming a sword. The sacred sword Excalibur, forged from starlight, began to descend. Pulling a trail of platinum light, it fell towards the city square.

I wondered if this was what a shooting star looked like.

“Wow…”

Sighs of awe echoed around the tavern.

For this fleeting view, people had paid a fortune. Those who had forgotten, or tried to forget, the light of the stars, were now reminiscing, sighing with longing.

The sacred sword landed quietly in the center of the square.

No loud noise, just a solemn, deep sound sweeping across the city.

“Ah,” I saw the sword in the square.

Though far away, I was sure the hilt bore constellations, depicting Arthur’s journeys. I wanted to see it closer.

The desire in my eyes was as bright as the starlight, or perhaps it was the light emanating from within. Feeling something odd, I paused.

“What’s that?”

An indescribable feeling, not quite unease. A deep stirring turned into words and sentences in my head.

One sentence filled my mind.

Pull out the sword.

Why that thought came to me, I didn’t know. Dismissing it as a vain delusion, I shook my head. Touching that sword would mean losing not just an arm, but my life.

Clank, clank!

That’s when it happened.

Thud.

Soldiers emerged, surrounding the sword. The starlight-laden sword was now hidden by their armor. Sighs of disappointment filled the tavern.

“Just a little longer…”

I too looked at the soldiers with disdain.

Just looking won’t wear it out. What’s with these people from above? With that thought, I slowly stood up.

The starlight in my eyes faded, returning to their original color and temperature. A resigned, cold gaze. Silently, I left the tavern.

The starlight I had encountered for the first time in my life had quickly left my side, blocked by the line dividing this underground city and ‘those above.’ The soldiers surrounding the sword were no different from the city’s ceiling in my mind.

“Ah well.”

I sighed.

Dreaming vain dreams only complicates life. It was a phrase often uttered by both Offen and Ivan, my two mentors. I mulled over that sentence, trying to clear my mind.

But amidst the flurry of words, one line stood firm.

‘Pull out the sword.’

That one line, neither shaking off nor settling down, kept swirling in my head.