Paramythi I: City of Glass
Chapter One: Capitalism

The most painful thing in the world is not something physical. Physical pain has often proven to be the easiest and subtle way to endure heartache. Mental pain is rather different; it bears deep and twists thoughts which creates even more hurtful feelings and could turn even the gentlest of souls into cruel beings. Emotional pain hurts a lot, but nothing is more painful than watching someone you love die.

It had been over an hour now since scruffy doctor Naden had disappeared into Mister Kara’s room with a grim look lining the wrinkled features of his face. It left Mister Kara’s children with little to hope for, bringing them closer together in the corner of the untidy cabin’s lounge to hug each other for comfort and force words of reassurance despite the falsity it would prove to be. One of the siblings would surely say otherwise, and though the eldest daughter, Maxa, had expected her little brother to speak up with a negative remark, as he was so known for, the boy said nothing and merely stared at the chipped wooden surface of their father’s door.

Perhaps it would not do to allow your mind to wander under such circumstances, but young Elias Kara could not help but think and wonder if someone else out there was experiencing the same feelings and fears he was beginning to note in his mind. Was it happening to a stranger in another town? Or maybe somewhere on the other side of the world? He would do well not to let the idea down. People died all the time, right? Maxa had told him as much. She described it as something like an equal exchange to nature’s cycle; although Elias was pretty certain that his eccentric sister had just been trying to pull him away from the usual anxieties and terrors that ‘death’ brought.

When your time is up; your time is up.

Elias had heard an old drunkard say just as much one evening when he had passed by the local pub on his way back home from school. It seemed to have a much worthier effect on Elias than how Maxa had been trying to describe it. However, it hardly mattered in the end. It did not make the pain any easier to bear no matter who tried to explain it to the ten-year-old.

Elias knew this would be the last time he and his sisters would see doctor Naden’s face. There would be no reason for the old scruff to come back after today. Maxa would have to hold her own down at her job, working twice as hard at the docks for money to keep them fed and dry. As for Elias’ other sisters, Nino and Pepi, it seemed fortunate enough that they were coming to their final year in education, so searching for jobs had already been a necessity before this afternoon and Maxa had already put in a good word at the local bakery for Nino months ago. Pepi had managed with her own funds for a good three years now since she started painting in town. So at least the remainder of their family would be able to manage until Elias was old enough to join up with the infamous Rebellion.

Maxa detested the idea of Elias even mentioning the outlawed band of misfits who had ‘sold their souls’ for a piece of pride and glory. Only recently had the Rebellion’s council-minders decided that all volunteers and members should be given worthy protection and income for their families. It seemed justified that way and almost made the cause seem noble, yet Maxa would continue to unload her hate for their ways so long as she drew breath and Elias knew it.

Finally, doctor Naden stepped out with that same grim look etched into every angle of his face and respectfully closed the door behind him, shutting away the view from the four siblings staring at him with little traces of hope and mouths shut tight in silence. It felt like forever had washed by before the doctor even lifted his eyes to stare at the little group, specifically to Maxa.

“I’m sorry,” Naden started. His voice was roughly edged as if he needed to clear his throat. Normally it would irritate Maxa to have to listen to the almost ear-aching tone but she could not afford it to even affect her as she swallowed the lump in her throat and placed a comforting hand on Elias’ shoulder. “Your father’s gone. Understand I did all I could, but he was simply too ill and-“

Elias never really got to hear what it was Naden had to say for himself to avoid any paperwork or something which might have made him look to be the reason for their father’s health. Maxa’s kindness would result in her escorting the doctor to the door with small thanks and a mourning aura. That is if Elias had not bolted from his sister’s side and forced himself out of the cabin and down the thin walkway that led him deep into the flourishing green and vegetation that surrounded their house along with a few identical constructions here and there.

Maxa had called for him to come back. Elias knew she would even if he had not heard the sounds of his own name carrying on the cool, summer breeze. He wondered if it was some kind of sick irony that their father had to pass away on such a wonderful day with the sun beaming down on his small, fatigued body. There were no clouds in the sky and the visible lines of aircrafts and blimps flying overhead could be mistaken for birds if not for the clearness that the glorious day had brought. It made things easier when the boy forced himself to a stop and his knees buckled under his weight. He was not the healthiest child and running in the heat only made it worse to manage.

Swallowing gulps of air to replenish his sore lungs, Elias calmed and drowned himself within the serene feel of the lush forest’s aroma. It must have been over ten minutes before Elias raised his head and looked up to the sky, changing his perspective from previously staring wide-eyed at the damp mud and moss surrounding him. He supposed the blimps above were deprived of mourning more so than anyone who lived on the ground. He told himself that he would soon be among them and that he will be fighting for the cause of nations and freedom to alliance the twelve kingdoms of Galaxis together.

Maybe he could prevent unnecessary deaths up there, too.

Elias swallowed thickly and pushed himself up from the ground. The knees of his calf-length shorts were muddied and clotted with moss and twigs. He brushed most of the mess off, leaving him with an additional pair of dirty palms and stained shorts. Maxa would be annoyed at the condition of his clothes, Elias knew it. It made the young boy feel guilty, and at the same time, he felt the need to unravel his hurt and lay them on someone else. Maxa should not have been the one to take such things out on -another thing Elias knew- but it was difficult not to feel irritated and bothered after such a terrible, terrible day.

Elias promised himself to make up for his bad behaviour when he would join up with the Rebellion. Maxa would see sense by then; Elias silently wished she would, at least. Until such a time could befall the Kara family, Elias had to play “the baby” of his siblings and pass his grades in school. He reminded himself of this fact as he pivoted away from the city’s view and the small outlines of the aircrafts in the sky. He had to return home and confront his sisters along with the rattling presence of a family without a mother or a father.

“In light of those who stand before the Divine Prophet now, let us rejoice and thank our Gods above for bringing this criminal forth and condemning them to justice.”

Emvolo’s grand church was filled with many people on the day Elias Kara’s father had died. It was no coincidence and of no connection that two major events had happened at the same hour. Criminals were often brought before the church where a cleric or monk would come forth and speak on behalf of their God to determine the criminal’s fate and pray for them in hopes their soul would be carried above and beyond to a better place where their sins and past misdeeds would be forgotten through death.

Somewhere amongst the crowd stood a tall man with a mess of light, chestnut hair tied into a braid over his shoulder. He was well known around this part of the city as the “famous lady killer, Enzo”, which was a handy disguise to his real identity. He had been a part of the Rebellion for only a year now and was quite easily bored when he had to attend missions or rituals like this one. Truthfully, if it were not for the seriousness of this particular task, he would have excused himself from the church a while ago to hit the pubs for a slice of fun.

“Let us pray.”

Enzo resisted the urge to roll his eyes and mimicked the action of pressing the heel of his palms together and bent his fingers with his thumbs stretched out, short nails brushing against his own neck. He never really stopped to ask why Emvolo’s God would care how its people prayed and what position their hands had to be in. As long as their prayers were getting through loud and clear, that was all that mattered, right

Apparently not.

Unlike everyone else in the church, Enzo kept his eyes open even when he bowed his head. He needed to keep his attention glued to the alter where the criminal stood. Their face was covered with a clean, white bag made of silk and their hands were bound behind their back. On either side of them stood tall knights clad in golden armour with Emvolo’s crest etched into the capes slung over their left arms. They, too, were in prayer.

“Raise your heads now and look towards our Divine Prophet.”

Enzo allowed his eyes to shift from the criminal long enough to witness Emvolo’s “Divine Prophet” step out from the dim shadows. The church was a rather large building with walls higher than the eye could see and a magnificent glass ceiling that told the story of their kingdom breaking their alliance with the other eleven kingdoms. The sun always shone down like a spotlight and branded those within the light. It made them appear graceful and holy, even when they were not. In Enzo’s opinion, the Divine Prophet did not need such contrast to appear holy or innocent; she was quite possibly every sense of the word in humanoid form.

“Lady Neriah Kiska,” the same man who had been speaking nonstop since the beginning of the event stepped aside, hand extended.

He was not of the church. He was more like an open-speaker about the Church’s law and often hosted the events of execution just to get a worthy kick out of seeing lower classes fall and members of the Rebellion fail at their righteous promises. Enzo had met him on occasion and even knew him by name; Sir Merine Trezla. He was neither the gentleman or believer he pretended to be.

“The eldest and noblest of the Kiska family, our Prophet of the church. What fate does this criminal deserve?” Merine grinned, his voice sounding more and more amused with every passing second.

Enzo tensed; as did everyone else around him. It was very rare that a criminal would stroll out of the building without so much as a sentence of redemption or a promise for future safety. In most circumstances, as everyone within the church would know; a criminal would be found guilty and hung before a crowd in a so-called humble, executional manner just behind the church where a convenient construction was waiting. The thought of being hung to death never really appealed to Enzo and he was still trying to work out just why it had become something of entertainment instead of a fearful message over the years.

“Unmask them, please.” The Prophet of the church spoke in chimes of delicacy and gentleness. Some said her melodious tone of choice could ease the restless souls of the dead while others theorised her voice could relate to the sounds of a bittersweet afterlife.

Either way, she never seemed to be spoken highly in terms of sweet paradise in a time where people lived.

“I am unwilling to speak otherwise.” Neriah’s eyes held Merine’s stiff gaze. She seemed relaxed in comparison to him; with her hands neatly folded over her stomach and her expression granting the most sincerely unreadable eyes and a mouth that neither quirked nor turned down.

“Lady Prophet,” Merine chuckled, a sound which wrapped nerves and discomfort together. “Is that truly necessary? Surely the Gods above would not need to view such a face when making their final decision.”

“It is not for the Gods,” Neriah said. “It is for myself.”

Merine seemed suspicious and his eyes withheld the very essence of scepticism. For once, his mouth did him favours to hold his tongue and he urged one of the guards to unveil the prisoner, revealing their face to the mixed crowd and caused various sounds of gasps and grumbles. Enzo proved to be the only person in the crowd who made no such sound. He already knew the face hidden beneath the white, linen cloth all too well, and if any kind of reaction were to be named on Enzo’s face, it would likely be amusement.

The way this so-called criminal seemed to roll his single eye to the side and raise his brows reduced the level of seriousness to the scene. Small beads of sweat were visible against his dark skin and his curly locks of white hair complimented the high, marble walls and pillars surrounding him in the essence of light. The guards seemed to have been generous enough to only gag him with a clean cloth and allow him to keep his eyepatch over his right eye upon capture. Asides his beaten appearance, he looked…bored.

Neriah seemed unfazed by the man’s choice of aura. Her own white hair fell in streaks over her shoulders when she tilted her head to examine him. Soft eyes darted upward to stare at the man’s coiled horns, similar to that of a full-grown ram’s. Enzo noticed Neriah’s momentary blip of weakness and made a small survey around him to count how many other individuals in the room had these similar features, whether they be antlers or horns. It was not odd to see a Sylvannix in the kingdom since the law changed, allowing them access to the city whenever they wished. They were simple folk who had no particular king or queen to follow- despite the fact that most rumours and sayings had led people to believe they had originated from the sixth kingdom, Astraea, years ago, when in actuality they had originated from Emvolo itself; but no-one seemed to want to hear that.

Only a small majority of different races mingled within the kingdom of Emvolo, but only because of the Rebellion’s actions and voiced recognitions of equality and alliance. It had taken many years to get to where the kingdom stood now, yet here they were; a Rebellion officer, a Divine Prophet, a noble snob and a Sylvannix. Fate would be cruel enough to ensure them all that one of them would most likely die today.

“Lady Prophet?” Merine shattered the tension within the room. The sounds of his well-adorned boots clicked against the marble floor below when he moved, reaching Neriah’s side. “What does this criminal deserve?”

Neriah’s calm expression never seemed to waver. Even as her eyes moved away from the criminal’s beaten face and over to Merine’s ever-so-carefully primped features, her aura remained the same and she drew a small breath, expanding her chest beneath the dark silks of her dress. “Do as you will, the Gods tell me his actions are unforgivable. He shall be renewed in death.”

From within the crowd, Enzo had flinched. It was almost unbearable to hear cruel statements such as these from a voice so gentle and pure. If not for Neriah’s calm presence and the peace on her face, Enzo may have thrown himself across the crowd just to slap her stark across the cheek. Truthfully, he was no big believer like his boss. He never prayed by choice, and frankly, he could hardly see himself doing it anytime soon. The drink and local pubs were his friends and the job was his acquaintance. He reminded himself yet again on how he would have turned down this particular mission if it was not for the Slyvannix on display for everyone around to stare at. For this man with a single eye and curly white hair was known as Theo Dante, Enzo’s unit partner and one of the Rebellions strongest Rebels.

“Here we go…” Enzo breathed quietly. A low glow of flashing blue started resonating from a small device tied to the belt around his waist, signalling his next moves –which were thankfully hidden due to the room being so bright. “Excuse me.” He muttered, gingerly pushing aside Sylvannix and human alike as the small device expanded and shot itself upward, morphing itself into a makeshift mini zip-wire to pull him into the air.

A collection of sounds ranging from cries of surprise and shouts of praise to fearful gasps filled the once-serene church as Enzo took off from the ground. His zip-wire had embedded itself into the finely mastered marble stone walls above, barely missing the fine coloured glass ceiling. While it secured a safe trip nonetheless, it also promised him yet another sin to pay for in his future as a non-believer.

He swooped over the crowd so swiftly and suddenly that not even Merine had realised what was going on before it was too late and Enzo had reached the altar. His landing was precisely above the guard on Theo’s right, leaving the guard on the left to draw his weapon. Theo was already moving while Enzo skillfully disarmed his opponent. In a matter of seconds, both guards were unarmed, Theo had removed his own gag and his restraints had been undone with help from Enzo.

“Listen up!” Enzo called out, firing one of the weapons into the air. He visibly cringed at the grumbling vibration of the shot making contact with yet another marble wall and he lowered the gun enough to prove himself threatening enough to halt anyone who dared to approach; yet casual enough that he did not necessary look like a horrid criminal ready to snap. “This is the Rebellion’s business, so I’d like the lot of ya who ain’t associated with Capitol to kindly make your way out of the building and leave this to us, ’kay?”

The church doors were thrown open before Enzo could even finish his little speech of fact and Theo took a step back to throw his arm around Neriah’s shoulders and pull her away from the startled Merine.

“W-Wait! Take your hands off of her, you filthy criminal!” Merine shrieked. He hardly looked as refined and well-pampered now that his face was flushed and his gelled hair was falling over his large forehead in small, messy strands. Wide eyes and a gaping mouth only added to his rather comical look and he was unable to collect himself as Theo stepped backwards, dragging away the defenceless Neriah with him. “I order you!”

Enzo scoffed and joined his partner’s side. It looked bad from where he stood with Theo pointing a gun so dangerously close to Neriah’s ever calm, pretty face. They had to make it look threatening enough for their mission to be achieved, and Enzo knew this, even if he did want to punch Theo in the gut for handling Neriah so recklessly.

“All is well, Sir Trezla,” Neriah spoke softly. Her voice was jutted from the pressure of Theo’s strong arm around her throat, yet peace remained upon the surface of her calm eyes. “These criminals would not attempt to harm anyone within a house of purity, lest they wish for our Gods’ wrath.”

Enzo could not help his eyes from rolling this time. His exaggeration would have heightened above such a childish gesture if not for the clattered sounds of raging footsteps and clanking armour. When he tore his gaze away from Merine’s baffled face, he saw the church being filled with guards and soldiers from Capitol. Even Merine’s servants appeared with weapons in hand; a young maid Enzo had previously known all too well by the name of Alyx and a butler with sharp aqua eyes and dark hair whose name was unknown to Enzo.

“This just got ten times worse,” Theo muttered under his breath. He bore white teeth together and held the barrel of the gun to Neriah’s temple, making sure the gesture was seen by every pair of eyes in the room. “If any of you make any attempts to blow me or my partner’s heads off, I assure you that your Divine Prophet will not be spared the same fate.”

Enzo nearly snapped at Theo for making such a statement. He whirled around in time to see his partner already backing away with one arm keeping a firm grip around Neriah’s shoulders and neck while his other arm continued to hold the gun as promised. Theo cocked his head, motioning for Enzo to follow him out the back rooms as he turned a corner and vanished.

Swallowing the adrenaline down, Enzo bolted to follow.

“I will make your life misery from here on out, Vincent.” Merine snarled. “No more drinking or gambling in the city! And you can kiss your little Rebellion crew goodbye!”

Enzo cracked a small chuckle and inhaled through his nostrils. “Can’t say it wasn’t fun while it lasted, right? Give my love to Alyx for me.” With a wink and a wave, Enzo darted after Theo through the back rooms in time to hear Merine’s rattling voice give the signal for the Capitol’s guards to move.

Theo staggered backwards into the open air, welcoming the ocean’s scent and heavy winds to wash over his face and soothe his battered wounds he had sustained upon capture. His guard remained high and he dragged Neriah through the overgrown grassy mound and closer to the cliff which symbolised the border of Emvolo’s kingdom.

He had ceased holding the gun so close to Neriah’s temple and was considerately gentler upon escaping the church. Neriah had noticed the Slyvannix’s change of heart, too. Her eyes remained easy and her lips were kept pressed in a thin line until Theo spoke up, the two passing by the gallows’ construction.

“Are you gonna tell me the date for Ruskin’s execution?”

“Kane Ruskin is your leader, correct?” Neriah sighed into the wind.

Theo’s arm tensed around the prophet’s neck and he ceased his steps, coming to a halt beside the gallows. Neriah merely tilted her head to look at the lonesome rope hanging there. She never witnessed executions herself, she only gave the yes or no before retiring to her chambers to pray for the unfortunate souls she had condemned by her deity’s hand. She would be doing the same for Theo if things had gone as expected like any other day.

“Are you here to offer me justice?” Neriah said, hands folding over her stomach comfortably. The position they stood in was awkward, mainly due to Theo’s height being a tad shorter than the prophet’s and the strength of his grip remained solid to stop her from escaping. “Are you here to slaughter me on behalf of your captain?”

It took a moment for Theo’s eye to wander up to the noose swaying in the wind. He did not frown nor smile as Neriah’s calming words rested within the edge of his mind. “You should know the Rebellion does not kill people. Not unless it is completely necessary.” He said, loosening his arm for the second time, albeit cautiously.

“I do not believe that,” Neriah commented flatly. She held her head high, eyes searching the skies above. “I did not lie in there, Dante. Whatever life you have led, it is not a pleasant one.”

Theo had little time to dwell on the prophet’s words before Enzo bolted into the scene. Behind him came armed men and women, along with a very angry Merine and his servants. Their situation had rendered them cornered for the time being and Theo only had Neriah’s life to play as their scapegoat before another miraculous occurrence could get them out alive and in one piece.

“Unhand the Prophet and the Gods may spare you a slow death,” Merine demanded as the troops following his lead gathered around, guns and swords at the ready. “You are cornered, Rebellion. This is it.”

Enzo took a step backwards, bumping shoulders with Theo. The two men counted their foes and gambled their odds to jump the cliff or fight their way through. With Neriah as a hostage, it certainly brought them enough time to conclude their options. Enzo was the first to raise his hand towards the sky, ready to offer his terms when the air picked up around them and a large aircraft emerged from the bottom of the cliff.

“A Rebellion aircraft!” Merine snapped. He jabbed a finger through the air, eyes narrowing through the mess of hair mopping over his forehead. “Shoot it down!”

Theo moved, shoving Neriah forward and smack into Merine. The two toppled into the crowd of soldiers and guards, creating a distraction for Enzo and Theo when the aircraft above them opened up a small hatch in its side and a young woman with long, dyed-blue hair peeked out with a roped ladder.

“Catch!” She cried over the sounds of battering craft blades slicing through the wind. She hurled the ladder down to her fellow companions and tightened the ends for good measure. “Hurry up!”

Theo scrambled to a leap and grabbed the ladder with ease. He was already halfway up when Enzo darted towards the edge of the cliff and threw himself over to grab the roped notches. The aircraft began to move away from the cliff’s edge, promising its members a swift success when Alyx, Merine’s maid, cut through the crowd and darted forward. Her movements were quick and she raised her gun-shaped weapon; a grappling hook. The sharp end flew across the sky and sliced the flesh through Enzo’s right calf, providing her with a solid support as she jumped over the edge of the cliff.

Enzo did little to hold back his scream of agony and his balanced wavered. Choking back another cry, his hands slipped and he toppled over backwards. His legs tangled themselves in the ladder’s roped steps along with Alyx’s grappling hook, keeping him from falling to his death. He controlled his breathing and narrowed his eyes down towards at the maid climbing her way up. Blood rushed to his head and the motion from the aircraft’s movements had him nauseous, stopping him from pulling his own weapon on the woman.

Theo cursed under his breath and shifted his weight to one arm, giving himself enough support to attempt to draw his stolen gun and shoot Alyx. His aim was direct and his finger curled around the trigger, determined to pull it.

“Theo, wait!” The woman hovering in the aircraft’s hatch spoke up through the heavy wind. “Theo move!”

As the woman spoke, Theo’s hand burst with agony and his gun was thrown from the contact made by a sharp, steel shot from one of the armed guards on the ground. He narrowed his eye on the shooter, Merine himself, and vowed to get him back when the chance arose. For now, all alarm and concern was concentrated on the woman climbing up her grappling hook and towards the dangling Enzo.

“Neoma, do something!” Theo snapped, craning his neck back up to the woman staring down at them with wide eyes and a gaping jaw. “Get the aircraft outta here!”

Neoma nodded, baffled and unsure as she disappeared inside the open hatch. The aircraft moved further and further away from the cliff’s edge, albeit unable to move at its full speed for the sake of Theo and Enzo. Merine’s commands and shouts echoed along the wind, either encouraging Alyx to climb higher or ordering her to stop. The maid continued to pursue her foes whatever Merine said and Enzo was certain that his life would end in a matter of seconds as Alyx reached the end of the ladder and drew a dagger to slash his throat opened.

Enzo closed his eyes and mentally cursed himself for the humorous fate he was titled to. He was not a believer, nor was he a man of his word. He fooled around with women, men and relied on the drink for a good time. Now here he was, hanging in the air with a grappling hook through his leg after visiting the church and a woman had a knife to his throat.

The bashing winds and shouts from above and below went silent. It was just a second; nothing more than a blip in the fabric of reality when Enzo’s ears were filled with the sounds of flesh crunching and a gurgled gasp for breath through a mouthful of blood. When he opened his eyes, Enzo expected to see his own blood cascading over his vision, blinding him. Instead, he saw Alyx staring at him with wide, glossy eyes. A silver arrow was embedded in the very middle of her throat, spewing blood whenever the woman attempted to take her last breaths.

The light from her eyes faded, as did the strength in her arms and the pleasantness of her once attractive face. She fell from the ladder and her body became nothing but a small dot in the distance as she fell to the bottom of the cliff where the waves would not hesitate to engulf her and lay her to rest in the bed of the sea.

Groggily, Enzo lifted his head to the best of his abilities. He locked eyes with the archer standing in the open hatch of the aircraft. Tovi had joined the Rebellion many years ago, back when they were still considered street thugs who mugged Capitol civilians for the sake of attention and reprimand. He had been Theo’s partner until Enzo joined up a year ago and Theo was transferred to work with him instead.

While Tovi had every right not to like Enzo for stealing such a significant asset away, it turned out to be Enzo who found himself disliking Tovi since the beginning.

Even though Tovi had quite clearly saved Enzo’s life that day under the sunlight of the mocking scenery, Enzo found himself growing even more unkind towards the archer; saviour or not.

“Was the mission a complete waste of time?”

High above the shining city’s kingdom of Emvolo, a fleet of aircrafts and blimps nestled together. The Rebellion had long ago taken to the skies after being thoroughly exiled from every kingdoms’ grounds on certain conditions. So far, Emvolo seemed to be the fairest when dealing in terms of ‘The Rebellion is unable to set foot on our soil after day’s end’, or ‘The Rebellion must not hold its own sign-ins without meeting our no-weapons condition in the city’.

The Rebellion’s council had agreed to this after a while and the aircrafts helped them to keep their promises and their laws. It was a tricky sort of business, and most of the Rebellion’s units snuck out to visit their relatives or spend the nights in pubs or hotels some nights, despite their written agreement to abide by their captain’s commands and the city’s law.

Even now as Kane Ruskin sat at the round council table in the main aircraft’s Base quarters, he was certain half of his crew was still prowling around the city’s streets as the sun went down, granting their large, council chamber with an orange hue of light.

“Not necessarily. We know that Merine Trezla’s behind the onslaught of the latest killings.” Kane replied. “He’s murdering Sylvannix after Sylvannix before the city’s eyes. He uses the church and its prophet to draw out a sentence and then commit them to hang.”

“You must admit…” A hummed tone rang out from across Kane where a youth sat in their chair. Their blonde hair stuck up in the oddest of places and their eyes were hollow, a dark tone of skin coiled around their eyelids and up to their eyebrows. Compared to most of the individuals in the room, their features lacked the norm. While most of the Rebellions’ units were either human or Faeman, there was a wide majority of other races mingled within the ranks; such as this individual. “…it is the perfect crime.”

“Zyki’s right,” the man beside Kane nodded and gingerly rearranged his glasses. “If these are senseless killings, then the city is not going to take it into account so easily. Sylvannix have been in union with the people of Emvolo for years now, thanks to us. This kind of…racial thing happened at the beginning of the Sylvannixs’ welcoming into the kingdom, but now? Merine’s smart if he has been planning it since the beginning.”

“His father was never pleased with Sylvannix coming into the city.” A woman with brown hair —so short it could almost be considered a buzz-cut — and big eyes with golden, glittered eye shadow and dark skin spoke up. “It could be likely that Merine found papers his father had stored away after his passing. Who knows? The plan of attacks could have been locked away for Merine to replace in a will or letter.”

“Then the matter is concluded. We arrest him.” A woman with glossy red hair sat at the head of the table, taking down notes as the meeting drew on. Her eyes were a deep mix of hazel and gold that twinkled with every compliment the orange hue of light from their glassed enclosure around them provided. “If Merine is drawing out the senseless murder on the Sylvannix, he must be stopped. There should be no room to discuss a debate. The evidence was laid out crystal clear for us today, that was why Theo was sent for the job. He’s the only Sylvannix signed to the Rebellion and had no reason to be captured by Capitol’s guards.”

“What about the prophet?” Kane spoke up. “She has to be playing some part in all of this. Without her word on the matter, Merine wouldn’t be able to execute anyone.”

The man beside Kane held out a pale hand to grab the attention of the council members’ around him. “That is of no concern to us,” he said. “Lady Neriah Kiska is a Divine Prophet of the Gods and has full protection from Capitol guards. If the Rebellion were to try and arrest her for lying or committing murder, then we would surely be exiled completely.”

“Agreed.” The redheaded woman, otherwise known as the Council’s primary chairwoman, Ciiria Zabitha-Adrestia, pushed her chair back and stood. “I want unit reports and an inventory check before the end of the week. Zyki, be sure to inform any families of their losses. We’ve suffered many tragedies this month.”

Zyki slid out of their chair with an eerie motion of their limbs and bowed sloppily. “Leave it me.”

Ciiria dismissed Zyki with a wave of her hand and turned her golden-brown gaze to the glasses-clad man beside Kane. “Quincy, write a report on Merine’s crimes and have Reidonn deliver it to the head of Capitol's guard.” Ciiria motioned between Quincy and over to the woman with short hair and golden-rimmed eyes, Reidonn.

“Yes, your Ladyship.” Quincy bowed his head and removed himself from the room before Reidonn could disappear through the door without him, thus leaving Kane and Ciiria together.

“I suppose I wouldn’t be wrong to assume you had something to say to me,” Kane said, folding his calloused hands together over the table’s surface in front of him. “Something you couldn’t rightly say in front of the others.”

Ciiria remained silent, a minimal reply for her leading captain. She arranged her stacked notes against the table and set them to one side. The flow of her red hair glimmered in the setting sun’s light and her eyes sparkled when she turned them upon Kane, stance tense and shoulders pulled back. “Was the prophet able to grant you a date? Time?”

Kane resisted the urge to smirk or frown. He knew the jumble of emotions rising up his spine was unworthy of his time and that he should be less concerned for himself and more focused upon his units and Merine’s arrest. The dry swallow and bob of his throat seemed to be enough response for Ciiria to take and the woman sighed deeply, pivoting on her heel.

“Drink?” Ciiria said, tone lowered beyond her previous superiority.

“Yes, thank you.” Kane smiled and leant back against the wooden arch of his chair. He remained casual and collected, something he knew Ciiria loathed about him. “I’m thankful we won’t be seeing much of Merine any longer. Enzo’s pleased, too…he even came out and told me that his injury was worth it just to get the dastard locked away.”

“Is it possible that Twyla’s fortune was wrong for once?” Ciiria returned at Kane’s side with a small glass of thick, golden liquid. She was not as eager as Kane had been to drop the subject and pressed on whilst pulling out the chair beside her leading Captain and sat beside him. “I mean; Capitol would never execute you. They couldn’t do that unless you killed the Governor or something similarly horrendous.”

Kane nodded. “That is true…but Twyla’s fortunes have never been wrong before.” His jaw stiffened and he snatched up the small glass to swallow its contents down in one, swift gulp. “I need to tend to my troops now, Ma'am. Thank you for the drink, and for your company.”