Hangman Chapter 60

Chapter 60-

As the sun set, any heat lodged in the ground seemed to be ripped out, and chilled winds rolled over the city. Inside the hall, however, everything was warm and quite comfortable. Large chandeliers hung from the high vaulted ceiling, bathing the room in orange light. The black tiled floors were polished to the point of being black mirrors; a long table reached from one end of the hall to the other atop a red carpet, draped with a white satin sheet. The table held up a variety of ornate decorations and carefully-prepared foods.

Members of the aristocracy stood about conversing, many with glasses of wine gripped in their white gloves, dressed in custom-tailored suits, dresses, and uniforms. A door at the back of the hall opened, and Leon strode out in regal garb; layers of gold, red, and purple tunics, sashes, and bands, the auspicious crown sitting on his head.

Immediately, the partygoers applauded, and several edged their way towards him.

“Your Majesty,” one older member of the court greeted him, an attendant beside him holding a velvet pillow, atop which was a gift covered in a velvet sheet, which was cast off to reveal a spectacular jewel encrusted pendant. “A gift for your coronation.”

Leon stared at the offering, allowing its handiwork to settle into his observation. Then, his eyes moved to the aristocrat, whose face was beaming with goodwill.

“No thank you,” he said.

At once, the man’s smile melted to shock, then horror as he glanced back and forth from the gift to the king. “Is something wrong with it, Your Majesty?”

Every muscle in Leon’s face was relaxed when, for an instant, the man could have sworn he saw his eyes flicker in color to a burning gold color.

“I will deny you.”

The aristocrat readjusted his stance, nodding his head as if to process what had just happened. “Of course, Your Majesty, I apologize.” He brought his hand to his heart and signaled his attendant away with him. As they left the king’s presence, the attendant, a much younger man, implored his lord.

“Sir, what did you mean by that?”

“Mean?”

The attendant hazarded a glance back at the king. “You said ‘of course,’ but the King didn’t say anything.”

The aristocrat almost stopped dead in his tracks. “He didn’t…?” He took a sharp breath and began walking again with a start, almost leaving his servant behind.

From across the room, Persicho couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

“Did you see that?” he smirked, pointing his words toward Ky, who was looking off lazily through the window, already a little woozy from the amount of wine he’d ingested.

“Hm?” he replied, scanning the room.

“You see that old politician over there?” Persicho gestured with his eyes towards the jilted aristocrat.

“Yuh-huh,” Ky found him among the crowd, awkwardly standing near a few other partygoers.

“He’s been a member of the court for forty years, Leon has known him since we were children, and he just turned down a gift from him!” Persicho snickered into his glass.

Ky laughed with him, turning his attention back out to the window. Persicho continued,

“He’s always been lower on the ladder than he’d like to be, he was always sucking up to father, now he thinks he can get in with Leon. He’s been playing the long game for the last twenty years, and it still hasn’t worked out.”

Ky let out another chuckle. “How late is it into the year that we still haven’t had our first snow?”

Persicho glanced curiously out the window with him into the fresh evening. Below them was a wide expanse of rolling hills surrounded by a dense forest of pine trees. A single path led down to the walls where guards kept watch, ensuring that no one from the city was able to enter. His brow crossed when he saw two people unfamiliar to him approaching the main doors of the castle.

“Who’s that?” Ky asked, noticing that one of them had a distinctly brown face.

“I… don’t know…” Persicho puzzled quietly to himself.

“You don’t know someone in the court?” Ky almost didn’t believe that there was a blind spot in the prince’s knowledge.”

“The lady looks…” Persicho pondered over her appearance. “Foreign…”

“They look pretty young, compared to the rest of the dust mites in here,” Ky began drawing shapes in the condensation on the glass.

---

Sonsee strutted awkwardly in a black dress Rodan had picked out of Dana’s closet. It was much longer than she was accustomed to, and flowed with frills and ruffles. As soon as she’d jammed herself into it, she was fronted with anxiety over how fragile it felt compared to her handmade leather garb.

She had opened the package to find it folded up along with the box containing the orb and another small wrapped bag, the size of her thumb. Ducking into the restroom of a nearby pub, she emerged drawing looks from several of the patrons, as the upper half of the dress was a touch too tight for her.

Escaping into the cold night air, Sonsee realized how thin her clothes felt.

“Hoo,” she tweeted, holding her arms tightly together. Noticing her discomfort, Gallow removed his jacket and swung it around her shoulders.

“What?” she blinked at him.

“It’s cold,” he replied, now in only his white undershirt. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“The last time I was cold, you bought me a jacket,” she sneered.

Gallow twisted his expression. “I’ll take it back if you don’t want it! I’m cold too!”

“Then take it,” she pulled it off of herself and stretched it towards him. In response, Gallow began walking in the direction of the palace.

“Come on,” he called. “We don’t want to be too fashionably late.”

Sonsee stood in the chilly air for a moment before throwing the jacket back around her and squeezing it tight, jogging to catch up to him.

At the gate, they were halted by two guards, stalwart in their black uniforms. However, one of the guards looked to the other, giving him a visual cue to open the gate.

“You’re expected by the king,” he declared.

The view between the great wooden doors of the gate was like a fairytale. A long gravel pathway, wide enough for two carriages to drive through, stretched up two conjoined hills to the royal palace. It was a huge building constructed what must have been hundreds of years prior in the classical Hopish style, with black gables and conical towers rising from its body. It was surrounded on all four sides by a great pine forest

“I’ve got a bad feeling,” she muttered to Gallow, shielding herself from a gust of wind with his jacket.

“Me too.”

The trek to the palace felt even longer in the cold, but as they approached the front doors, another pair of guards stopped them.

“The king is expecting us,” Gallow informed them with some pomp. After wordlessly agreeing with each other, the guards opened the set of doors, which curved to form an arch shape.

The interior of the palace was immediately striking; red carpets stitched ornately with gold created pathways to every room, crystal chandeliers cast light on pieces of artwork that looked more valuable than a human soul. The walls and floors were finely polished mahogany; when Gallow stepped, the boards creaked ever so slightly, enough to tell him how antique the building was.

“Sir, Ma’am.” They both jumped; a middle-aged servant in black suit greeted them beside the doorway. The house was so lavish, it was difficult to imagine that anyone really lived there. “You’re here for the coronation party?”

Awkwardly, both of them nodded and stumbled out various “Yes-” “Yes we are,” tripping over each other.

“I’ll take your coat, sir,” the servant offered.

Gallow was almost taken aback; he didn’t like the idea of handing something over to someone in this labyrinthine manor. “No thanks,” he replied as politely as he could. “I’ll keep it.”

“Of… course, sir,” the servant accepted the denial rather unexpectedly and motioned to the center hall which lay before them. “Follow me,” he instructed. “The king is expecting you.”

“So we’ve heard…” Gallow muttered, taking one last look around the atrium before they both began trailing him down the center hall.

The walls were lined with busts and portraits of former kings, queens, and notable members of the royal family, each accompanied by plaques inscribed with the years of their lives. They were ordered oldest to newest, and began at the first step of the hall; the plaque read “GREIGHAN 900 A.S. ~ 979 A.S.”

“Jeez…” Gallow thought. A.S. stood for “After Salamander,” referring to the Saviour’s death. “This country is ancient…” Anything before the Saviour’s birth fell under “IW,” meaning “In Waiting,” and the years during the Saviour’s life were known only as “Golden Days,” when there was a chance that the world might not be enveloped in darkness forever. After their death, their followers formed the Urodelic Church to carry on the teachings that were the human race’s guide to avoiding total collapse. Salamander imagery appeared on several trinkets worn by many of the royal family; Gallow was able to glean their close connection to the Church.

Gallow and Sonsee followed the servant up a wide flight of red velvet stairs which broke out to the main hall. At once, they were greeted by a few curious peeks from some of the partygoers just noticing the new arrivals, but they were soon approached by another familiar presence.

“Ah, my guests.”

Leon’s voice was uncomfortably comfortable, his stare a little too confident for how serene the rest of his face was.

Gallow’s distaste for the king was immeasurable from only the minutes he’d been with him, yet he recognized the need for politeness if they were going to get what they needed.

“Your Majesty,” he replied in as moderate a voice as possible. “Thank you for inviting us.”

Leon’s plastic smile remained. “Now, you two are from Andeidra, then?”

“Yeah- Yes,” Gallow answered. “We’re both-”

“I’m not an Andeidran citizen, actually,” Sonsee corrected him. “I’m Atamape.”

Leon visibly drew back at seeing her cut Gallow off so flagrantly. “Very particular woman,” he smirked at Gallow. “Now, I’ve not heard of a country called Atamape, what is it?”

Sonsee stalwartly explained to him the Atamape tribe’s geography, way of life, and massacre, paying little mind to Gallow’s discomfort. It wasn’t that it wasn’t important, he just felt that such a heavy topic was best breached after getting to know someone.

“I see,” Leon perked up after her diatribe was over. “And how did you two meet?”

Gallow squinted his eyes a bit. “He makes it sound like we’re a couple,” was his first thought, then followed by his brain working overtime to think of an explanation that wasn’t so terribly strange.

“Well,” he started. “I was in the military,”

“Was,” Sonsee noted to herself. “Keyword.”

“And… Our troop was lost, stationed in the Southwest region.” He gestured to her with a grin. “And she happened to show us where we needed to go.”

“And she stayed with you?” Leon seemed genuinely intrigued.

“Yes… We became friends after that.” Gallow’s intonation was a bit awkward and stilted, as he felt there was an underlying assumption which not all of them had agreed on.

“Getting lost was certainly lucky, then?” Leon gave an ugly sort of chuckle that made Gallow’s stomach do flips. The statement, however, struck a chord in him.

“I guess so…” he replied with some thoughtfulness, glancing quickly from Sonsee back to the king.

“Now, mister…” Leon paused, mouth open as if the word was about to come to him. Suddenly, his face broke into laughter. “I’ve just realized,” he chortled. “That I never asked for your names.”

Gallow froze. “Can I really tell him a name like ‘Gallow’?” he wondered. “Is that too strange? I mean, I don’t even have a last name!”

“Our names,” he fluttered his eyelids at Sonsee, signalling her to act first.

“My name is Sonsee-array,” she declared. Leon’s brow crossed just enough for her to read confusion on his face. It was altogether strange for a woman to introduce herself before her husband, and to not even include their surname. It was all the more odd, and all the more enticing.

“I’m Isaac Mana,” Gallow spat out.

“Mana?” Leon wondered aloud. “What sort of name is that?”

Again, Gallow had to keep his composure; it was a name he’d seen in a newspaper serial when he was a young boy in Pettma and plucked from his memory, he had no clue where it was from; perhaps the author had simply invented some gobbledygook name for his story, but now here he was, there was no going back. It was not unlike the moment he chose to desert the army, an irony he would only register later.

“It’s Brutskaian.”

“Brutskaia?” Leon seemed incredulous. “It must be very uncommon. We trade often with them and not once have I heard that name.”

Gallow saw the out Leon had handed him and rushed for it. “Yes, it’s a family name, no one in our home village has that name besides us.”

“And what’s your village’s name?”

Gallow’s smile froze.

“GOD DAMN IT.”

“St. Gershevik,” he responded without missing a beat. It was a common enough Brutskaian name for a village in his mind, titled after one of the more notable saints from the country.

“Oh, lovely,” Leon smiled. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a sailor, now,” Gallow began, prompting Sonsee to snap her head towards his anxiously. He had to stare straight into Leon’s eyes lest he risk losing focus and dropping the streak of lies. “My service ended while I was still in the Southwest and I decided to settle on the seas, going back and forth between New Hopeland and Andeidra, mostly.”

“And why are both of you here, then?”

Gallow felt giddiness rising up within him, an opportunity borne from his brazen storytelling.

“I thought it would be a treat to visit the Serpent Isles,” he proclaimed. Leon nearly fell over, his eyebrows were drawn up to the ceiling.

“The-” he laughed in disbelief. “The Serpent Isles? Why would you want to go there? It’s just a den of pirates and cultists, not to mention the treacherous waters.”

“Well,” Gallow gesticulated casually, leaning towards Leon with one shoulder. “That’s not a sailor’s bravado, is it?”

Leon smirked from ear to ear, “I see.”

“And,” Gallow added. “Sonsee is a bit of a risk-taker as well, we both want to see them.”

“Is that true?” Leon asked the question rhetorically, but Sonsee felt a sudden need to back up the statement.

“It is, it’s a goal of ours.”

“Now, how are you getting there, I wonder?”

Gallow’s heart raced, his gamble was paying off. “Well, that’s the problem; you see, we had no problem getting here, figured we’d look around, get to take in the city and such, see the coronation, of course,” he raised a hand to Leon flatteringly. “But we ran into this wall after we got here; nobody would take us to the Serpent Isles, and it’s just been really disheartening…”

“You could expect as much,” Leon sighed. “You may have been better off charting your own vessel, I doubt anyone reputable around here would hazard that trip.”

“Oh, but who has the money for that?” Gallow lamented. “I mean, it isn’t the best time to be making the trip from Andeidra, after all. We’re going into a bit of a recession after the… well, you know…”

Leon feigned sorrow, “I’m so sorry to hear about President Cartwright, my sincerest prayers went out for your country as soon as the news reached us.”

Gallow needed to get back on track. “Yes, yes, but I don’t want to dwell on that, it’s too unfortunate.” A moment passed by before he felt confident enough to start the real thread of conversation. “Say, is there any chance you could spare us anything to get to the Serpent Isles, a little expedition, maybe a drop-off somewhere close by, we could figure out the rest…?”

Leon let the question simmer in the air. “I suppose I could arrange something of the sort, Mister Mana, but this is something we should discuss in private. I hate to drag business out into the open like this.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Gallow glanced excitedly at Sonsee. “When would you like to meet?”

Leon gave a quick scan out the window into the night. “Now would be appropriate,” he answered. “Come here,” he said, and walked through the hall to the door at the back he’d entered through.

Gallow nudged Sonsee with glee as they followed him across the room. She was just amazed that he’d managed to come up with so convincing a story.

“It beats saying ‘We wander around and freeload off of people we happen to get favors from.’”

Persicho silently watched his brother stride through to the door which led to the adjacent hallway, both foreigners in tow. Before opening the door, the king whispered something to a servant.

The hallway led up a flight of stairs to a private study decorated with various priceless looking works of art, sculpture, and jewelry. The light was low, only coming from a single lamp that cast deep shadows past every angle of the room’s many fixtures. Leon shut the door behind them and made his way to a globe which appeared to be carved from ivory.

“New Hopeland is here,” he spun it around and laid a slender finger on the proper landmass. “Galeton is here, and the Serpent Isles are here,” he dragged his index finger from one point to the other, turning his attention to Gallow and Sonsee. “It would only be about a day’s travel, but a ship passing through its waters would need to sail much slower if they don’t want to be smashed against the rocks.”

“Is it possible to do?” Gallow leaned closer to the globe.

“It’s certainly possible, but it will run you quite a cost.”

Gallow looked visibly disappointed. “I… see…”

“But,” Leon casually tapped the globe. “I might be able to squeeze you two in on a private trip.”

“Private trip?” Sonsee spoke up this time.

“Yes, Lord Himmdal travels to that area regularly, I’m sure it wouldn’t be too much to ask him to entertain some guests.”

Gallow looked pleased with this. “That sounds great, when can we speak to him?”

Leon suddenly broke away and paced by a shelf of books by the wall. “Well, he should actually be out with the other guests; you could probably approach him now. In fact,” he picked a book off the shelf. “By the door to the hallway we came from, one of my servants, Ivan, should be able to steer you towards him.”

“That’s great, we can ask him over right now,” Gallow headed for the door, followed by Sonsee.

“Actually,” Leon stopped them for a moment. “If you wanted to go fetch him; ma’am, I have this text here with records of so many of the native tribes of Andeidra, I believe yours should be in here. Would you show me?”

Sonsee glanced, dumbfounded, at Gallow. “I- I suppose I could.” She appeared uncomfortable, but wasn’t sure about denying such a seemingly innocuous request.

Gallow took a look at her. Even in a formal dress which looked so uncharacteristic on her, she still had the air of the huntress he knew. The piece of him that was gentlemanly wanted to second-guess leaving her alone with this odd, uncomfortable ruler, but she was often more capable than he was, and had a much stabler head.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a minute,” Gallow gave one last signal with his eyes; nothing covert, but a sign of confidence that she recognized and, in effect, renewed her actual confidence.

Closing the door behind him, Gallow proceeded back out into the grand hall, where the same butler, Ivan, was stationed.

“Hello, sir?” he greeted the manservant.

“Good evening, guest of the king,” the man replied in a rather plain tone of voice, his eyes showing little emotion.

“Is there a Lord Himmdal here this evening? The king wants to see him.”

The servant reached into his suit jacket and produced a pocket watch. “He was not scheduled to be here for another few minutes, sir.”

An awkward silence hung in the air between them until Gallow finally broke it.

“And… should I wait for him anywhere?”

Ivan mulled it over in his head. “By the front entrance, another servant will introduce you.”

“Another-?” Gallow’s eyes darted back and forth across the hall.

“Yes, he will find you, do not worry, this is standard.”

“I… see…” Gallow slowly walked away from the door. Behind him, Ivan waited until he was a sufficient distance away, then took a skeleton key from his pocket and slipped it into the door.

“Now, what was your tribe called?” Leon flipped through a large textbook, leaning against the shelf.

“Atamape,” Sonsee repeated.

“With an ‘A’?”

“It should be.”

Leon scanned through the book until he found the correct section. “Ah! Here it is…”

Sonsee immediately wanted to take a look, but the angle he stood at forced her to stand rather close to him and lean over his shoulder, her face near his.

Her eyes skimmed through the text; admittedly, her Hopish reading skills were not half as good as her speaking was. What fascinated her the most were the crude sketches of everyday life. Obviously drawn on rough parchment and further distorted by the transfer to the printing press, they were, nevertheless, the first depictions of people who looked like her in a way that weren’t ugly caricatures.

“How old is this book?” she asked quietly, a little emotion stirring in her voice.

“This must be… oh…” Leon looked it up and down. “At least twenty years old, kept in excellent condition here. It’s a fascinating read, really.”

“It’s very…” Sonsee took a long time to think of the right word in Hopish. “Sweet… no… Nostalgic…”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Leon closed the book, setting it back on the shelf. “You’ve made me very interested in the native tribes…” Abruptly, he laid his hand on her shoulder.

“What-?” The warm emotions stirring inside of her sharply vanished and were replaced by an edginess. “Sorry?” she stared at his hand.

“I know it must be difficult to be through so much in our society…” Leon drew closer. “And I’m sure that being away from your husband so often must be terribly lonely…”

“Hus-husband?” Sonsee couldn’t believe what was happening.

Leon brought his other hand to her cheek, driving her to recoil from him. “Oh?” his serenity was now particularly sinister. “Are you sure that you want to shy away from me? I could do a lot of things for the both of you, you know… Your voyage, money, supplies, for the rest of your lives.” He snaked his arm around her, his hand pressing against the small of her back. “Think about it, you two could both be taken care of from here on out, you just need to give me something…”

Sonsee’s mouth was dry, her lips nearly trembling; his words sunk into her mind. It was the same feeling as earlier, when they’d first met, then again when they arrived at the palace; no one else made her feel so vulnerable, for the first time in a long time, she was scared. She’d already sized him up, and could probably take him in a brawl, but he radiated an imposing, dominant strength; his soul gave off the scent of honeysuckle, the thick, sweet aroma that nearly made her sick.

And what was she doing this for? For her friend, her best friend, who was not even aware of this happening, who had given her the sign of his confidence just minutes ago. Who was the person Gallow believed in then?

Anger spiked up in her heart, seething disgust for Leon, who seemed to peer straight into her being, and a plan hatched in her mind.

“Well…” she whispered softly. “Let me get comfortable…”

Only a few minutes later, Leon sat shirtless at the side of his four-post bed, atop fanciful white silk sheets, propping his head up on his arm. At the other end of the room, in near pitch darkness save for the moonlight through the window, Sonsee was hidden behind a screen partition, undressing. Leon looked up as she emerged, wearing not much more than a robe. He stood up to admire her beauty, which shone through even in the dark. This was the desire that had been burning in his mind since he saw her with Gallow, a frontier unconquered by him.

“Sonsee…” he approached her, waving away the curtains of the bed.

“Your Majesty…” she cooed, her green eyes bright and catlike, long black hair draped down her back. He embraced her, running his hands up her muscular, well-tanned arms. Without warning, he brought his lips to hers.

It was a shocking sensation, more so than she had expected it to be, as she’d never kissed anyone before. Still, it was exactly as she wanted.

Behind the screen, she had pulled the one other item provided to them by Rodan, the small bag. Within it was a single berry, which she then placed carefully on her tongue. Now, connected so closely to the king, she pushed her tongue past his lips, slipping the partially dissolved berry into his mouth.

After a long, deep kiss, Leon drew back, breathing out and pulling her even closer to his chest. Sonsee’s heart nearly stopped; something was wrong.

With the same damned tranquil grin, Leon whispered into her ear,

“Ah, Goatseye; somewhat rare, but incredibly poisonous, supposed to kill a fully grown man in under five minutes.”

He felt her hands tremble as she raised her eyes to his, now burning with a golden flame in the blackness.

“You’re wondering why I’m not choking and coughing and dying on the floor right now, are you? I can’t read minds, but I can see your face quite well,” he stroked her cheek with one cold finger. “I’m the heir to the strongest man in history, woman,” his words were as solid as stone, but delivered with such a velvet tone that there was seemingly no anger in them, only complete superiority. “How many attempts do you think were made on my father? I was raised from birth to be immune to every known poison in the world, hemlock was mixed into my breastmilk. Did you really think something so weak and human would kill me?”

Sonsee couldn’t say anything, fear gripped her heart as she realized was at the complete mercy of this madman.

“What separates a man from a beast?” he pondered abruptly.

“W-” she sputtered. “What?”

“A beast cannot think, my dear…” he ran his fingers through her hair. “A plant cannot think, the sky cannot think… But there is one thing they can all do.” He waited for a moment, knowing she would not say anything. “They all have intent, dear, and with these eyes, I can read the intent of any of God’s creations… As well as let them understand mine. That is why I am the ‘King’ and why I rule over all of these things. On the day I was born, my father was bleeding out on the battlefield, yet as I emerged from the womb, the heavens parted and he was given the strength of a thousand men to defeat his enemies. A single salamander approached me in my swaddling clothes, and a star lit up the heavens, my star, my dear.”

Sonsee tried to lean herself as far away as possible, but to no avail.

“I’m sorry that you were not interested in a night with I, who shall be the first King Among Kings, but I am still quite entranced with you, so I think I will conquer it.”

“[VANISHING POINT]!!”

Leon flew back and slammed beside the bed, the impact rattling the dresser and various ornaments fixed to the walls. Sonsee took off running, throwing the door open; she tore past two guards stationed outside the room and made a break down the hallway. The guards scrambled into their king’s chambers to find Leon picking himself up off the ground, his hair tossed into his eyes.

“Apprehend her!” he shouted, hunched over. “And her husband, the Andeidran!”

---

Gallow had spent a good five minutes waiting by the entrance of the hall, as the seed of suspicion planted by Leon grew. Eventually, he told the servant by the entrance to get him if Himmdal ever appeared. With that, he decided that he needed some fresh air and moved to a balcony which opened up from the far end of the hall.

Alone, he leaned his arms over the railing which overlooked the courtyard from about ten feet up, the warm glow of the party humming at his back. The cool night breeze brushed his face, relieving him of what he now realized to be the oppressive heat of the inside.

“How late is it into the year,” he wondered. “Don’t they get snow here by now?”

As if on cue, he noticed something small drop gently from the sky.

“No way,” a simple smile crossed his face. His home region had regular snow in the winter time, but since getting thrown into the arid climates of western Andeidra, the last snow he’d seen was in the Redmaines, not the best time to appreciate it. As for actual snowfall, the first lovely blanket of white across the landscape, he was sorely missing.

One by one, more flakes seemed to appear out of the blackened night sky, their delicate crystalline structures caught in the pale light of the full moon, until the air was filled with them. It was a little too cold for his liking, but he didn’t mind, it was enough just to stick out his tongue and catch them.

Gallow remembered how the first morning’s snow was always so exciting and fresh, maybe school would be cancelled and his mom would take him to the orphanage. He would run outside with Warren in heavy boots, and they would scoop up the dense snow with their bare hands until they were numb. Warren was always better at forming it into compact snowballs, and the Sister would, on several occasions, come out to chastise him for smacking one into Gallow’s face, who was always the more fragile of the two.

There on the balcony, Gallow let his mind wander, and chuckled to himself as the sweet little memories came back to him, each one like a snowflake of its own, crystallized in his mind. Maybe, if he kept those memories and rolled them into a ball and kept them somewhere cold, he’d never have to lose that Warren.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of several pairs of boots trampling the ground behind him. His first inclination was that the lord had arrived, but before he could turn around to see what the matter was, whoever it was had already gotten too close.

Instinctively, Gallow slid along the railing towards a set of stairs which led down into the courtyard. He whipped around to find six royal guards approaching aggressively, hands already brought to the hilts of their swords.

“Stop!” the apparent leader of the guards commanded in a gruff, heavy voice.

Gallow tilted his head back, only inches away from the stairs. “What the hell is goin’ on?” A bit of Central drawl crept into his words.

“You’re under arrest for conspiracy against the crown!”

The party members, who had already stopped in their tracks once they saw the commotion, all gasped.

Persicho couldn’t believe his eyes. “What the-? What is…?” he muttered, his brow deeply furrowed.

Ky laughed quietly to himself. “Figures, I guess they’re going to clear us out now.”

A few of the servants on duty stood between the balcony’s entrance and the rest of the partygoers.

“Please leave the hall!” one of them announced in a booming voice. “Please leave now!”

“See? I’m always right…” the general muttered proudly.

Gallow backed off towards the steps. “Look,” he warned the guards, I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t want to have to do anything…”

“Don’t you threaten the Royal Guard!” the captain barked, taking a step closer to him.

“Warned you,” Gallow remarked before Navigator burst from his body. All the guards could make out was a blast of air that swept the falling snow around in the air, then knocked them all onto their backs. Scrambling to their feet once more, they took off in pursuit of Gallow.

The courtyard was huge, stretching a good sixty feet of grass and small gravel paths which led to a gateless arch. Gallow’s boots pounded into the ground in a flurry, the freezing air filling his lungs. He didn’t know where the arch would lead, but it was the only way forward as far as he was concerned. Behind him, he could already hear the fleet of guards back on their feet and in hot pursuit of him. He hadn’t used Navigator’s full strength against them, not thinking it would be necessary, but also out of lack of experience using it against multiple opponents.

“Agh!” Gallow’s foot caught on a loose rock he’d failed to make out in the dark, and he fell to the ground. He could hear the guards getting closer, and flipped around to his back, pulling out the only thing that might discourage them from coming near. By the time they saw his gun, they were already within striking range, swords drawn.

“Aw, hell,” he thought. Now, they were almost guaranteed to kill him in self-defense.

What neither Gallow nor the guards saw was a black shape darting across the top of the courtyard’s walls. In a heartbeat, before any of the guards could strike, a streak of red filled the air. Each of them fell to the ground, unconscious.

“What?” Gallow looked around for any clue as to what had just happened, until he saw a figure walking up to him from the opposite direction the streak had seemingly come from. He was wearing a cape and cap, with long dark red hair.

“Wait-” he heaved. “You’re…”

This was one of the people who had arrested Rodan and Dana, the Inquisition Squad.

In a moderate panic, the various politicians and officials had scrambled out the front entrance, leaving only Persicho and Ky hanging around.

“Your Highness,” a servant jogged to meet them. “General, you must leave now, there’s a dangerous criminal!”

Ky waved his hand. “Eh, I can deal with him.”

“General,” the servant insisted, pleadingly. “With all due respect, this is for your safety.”

“I’d be more worried about him!” Ky chortled.

Persicho grabbed his friend’s shoulder and began leading him away. “He’s had too much wine, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, what’s the big deal?” Ky moaned. “Let me get a piece of him, I’ll take him out! I’ll rip ‘im in two with a wave of my arm!”

“Just let them deal with it…” Persicho advised him.

All of a sudden, Ky stopped dead.

“What?” Persicho wondered, noticing his friend’s change in demeanor; he was abruptly focused, intent on something.

“There’s something going on out there,” he whispered. “And I wanna see it!”

He worked his way out of Persicho’s grip and ran to the balcony, pushing away any servants who tried to get in his way.

Wordlessly, Jericho raised a single arm out of the shadow from beneath his heavy cape, in his hand he gripped a long, thin horse whip.

“Your name is Gallow,” the words snaked their way out of his mouth. “I’m here to capture you.”

“Pssht,” Gallow hissed, kicking himself to his feet with Navigator and leaping backwards to break into a full sprint towards the exit. The sound of a heavy cape flapping in the wind beat above him, and moments later, the Inquisitor landed from the sky in front of his exit route.

Gallow took up a guarded stance and eyed him up. “Why exactly did you take out those guards?” he called. “Aren’t you two on the same side?”

Jericho reached for the thick rope that bound his cape shut at the neck, closing his eyes as he spoke. “They don’t have the same interests as my Lord. The last thing I need is for you to have six swords struck through your ribs, I’m taking you in alive.” With his one hand, he managed to undo the tight knot of the cape and it fell off with an easy breeze to reveal his form.

His body was mostly adorned in tight black leather, a clasped vest and knee-length skirt studded with silver buttons, tall black boots, and elbow-length gloves in which he held both ends of his crop.

“And it’s apparent that I’ll need to act with force.”