“Can I go now, sir?” asked Vistas.
“Of course. Thank you for your help.”
“My pleasure,” he said with a gracious bow before walking out of the room.
The Grand Director turned back to the Jestivan. “Do you want to visit your teammates?” he asked.
The two young men leapt from their beds. That was an answer in itself. Olivia slowly stood up and stretched.
It was quite a walk to the emergency room, which was on the first floor and several stories below them. The journey became longer when they were informed by a nurse that Lilu and Rhyparia had been taken to the Intensive Care Unit, or ICU.
Their new destination made Bryson become uneasy. He was already a cold person, so to feel this type of chill was haunting. It was a vast room—if something so vast could even be called a “room”—of white. Hundreds of hospital beds lined the walls. A nurse’s desk sat at the center, where doctors and assistants rushed to and fro with parchment inked with records and diagnoses.
Bryson approached a section of wall that was completely glass, and when he gazed through it, he saw a motionless young woman lying on the bed. Even without her bandana, Bryson knew it was Rhyparia.
They entered the room, and Director Senex, who was sitting next to her bed, slowly gazed toward the group. That was his only acknowledgment of their presence. He didn’t even nod. He simply looked defeated.
The three Jestivan stood next to their friend’s bed, and Bryson tried saying something. “How are you, Rhyparia?”
No response. “Rhyparia?”
For the second time, silence. Then he noticed something. Her eyes were open, but she still had the same empty stare from the night before. But this time, there was no night sky above her, just a bland ceiling.
Finally, a voice broke the morose quiet. “A coma,” Meow Meow said. “I’m guessing from overwhelming shock.”
A coma. Bryson glanced back at the Directors behind him to see a canvas of gloom painted on their faces, verifying what Meow Meow had said.
But why did her eyes have to be open? It was deceitful, as if the Bozani were mocking them from the Light Empire above.
Bryson’s eyes watered before quickly wiping them. He thought about Rhyparia’s determination to excel despite the status and characters of her parents. He thought about her reaction to seeing her parents enter the restaurant. Now he understood her fright.
As these thoughts consumed his mind, he gently swept her sweeping brown bangs in front of her eyes before exiting the room. There was nothing to be gained from staring at her. He didn’t want his guilt to build up until it toppled into an unfixable mess.
So he began searching for Lilu, hoping she wasn’t anything nearly as injured as Rhyparia. But this was the ICU, so it wasn’t promising. Having no luck finding her, he asked one of the nurses at the central service desk, who pointed him in the right direction.
He took a deep breath as he opened the door. Fortunately, while the room looked the same as Rhyparia’s, Lilu’s health didn’t seem to be. Debo was standing with his hands behind his back as he gazed out the window. He didn’t turn around when Bryson entered, but it wasn’t necessary. He saw the boy in the window’s reflection.
“Hey, Bry.”
Instead of responding, Bryson darted to Lilu’s bedside. He grabbed her hand, noticing how different she looked. Her green hair was a frizzy mess and her eyes had light shadows around them.
Lilu’s eyes slowly opened halfway, and she gave him a soft smile. Bryson smiled back. “You’re awake,” he said with relief.
“I am now,” she said weakly, then coughed.
“Keep the words to a minimum,” Debo cut in.
Her breathing was irregular and wheezy, and she would occasionally squint in pain. But she was conscious, and that was all that mattered. Bryson looked down at the contraption fastened around her chest.
“Don’t worry. A few broken ribs. Rhyparia is who we should worry about.” Everything she said sounded like a struggle. “I’ll be out of here tomorrow.”
Bryson looked at her. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Your lungs were punctured,” Debo said. “You need time to heal.”
“We have commitments,” she said.
“Screw the commitments,” Bryson replied. He honestly didn’t care about the plan any more. Besides, it was Lilu’s idea in the first place.
“Director, could you leave for a bit?” she asked.
Debo looked at the two of them for a long moment, as if studying them. “Five minutes,” he said before exiting the room.
The silence continued for a few moments as rain pattered against the window. “This is important,” Lilu finally managed.
“Not important enough to risk your life,” Bryson said. “Besides, why are we still questioning him? He sat by your side all night. He’s a good man.”
“A good man with dark secrets.”
Bryson sighed, careful to not lose his cool. “We will wait for another opportunity.”
“This is the only opportunity.” She started coughing, wincing from the pain.
“And that is why you are not going anywhere,” he said. “Besides, do you really want the world to see you like this? I mean … look at your hair.”
Lilu accidentally giggled, but quickly stopped, either from the pain or remembering that she was supposed to be serious. “Not funny.”
“I won’t go through with your plan if I see you at the stadium tomorrow.”
Lilu looked at him hopelessly as she realized his mind was not going to be changed. Feebly, she grabbed his hand. “I won’t go,” she said.
“Good.”
“But the plan will still happen,” she said. “I’ll just have to get in touch with the brothers.”
“As long as it involves you not leaving this room.”
“Just show up to the Royal Suite tomorrow. I’ll take care of everything.”
Bryson studied her half-closed eyes. Her persistence was annoying, yet moving at the same time.
“Stop worrying,” she reassured him. “I already have one dad. I don’t need two.”
At that moment, Debo walked back into the room with an apple in hand. “Make that three,” she mumbled.
Debo, not hearing her, took a bite out of his apple. “A bit more than five minutes, but I was hungry and couldn’t find the cafeteria.”
“Thank you,” Lilu said.
Deciding to spend the night next to Lilu, Bryson slipped his hood over his head and slumped softly in his chair. It was a rough night. Lilu would wake up in pain every half hour or so. Several times the doctor and nurses forced Bryson to leave, though they practically had to rip him from the chair. And when that happened, he stood outside the room while hopelessly gazing back in … watching her suffer as she screamed loud enough to be heard throughout the entire floor.
15
The Generals’ Battle
The next day, Bryson woke up for what probably was the eleventh time, but this time for good. Even with the ever-present overcast skies roiling outside the ICU room’s window, it was obvious that it was the heart of morning.
Bryson yawned and stretched more intensely than usual, his body aching from the fitful night. It was reminiscent of his nightmare-riddled nights when he was a child. However, it would be wrong to complain. Lilu was the one who actually experienced the torture. As he gazed at her sleeping face, it was obvious that she still wasn’t breathing normally. He wanted to stay, but he knew that would upset her since she was determined to complete their objective.
He walked over to Olivia, who was passed out in a chair opposite Lilu’s bed. Before waking her, he took the opportunity to appreciate her peaceful state that could only be seen when fast asleep. It didn’t last long though, for her eyes slowly opened. Realizing how strange it was for him to be staring at her so intently, he took a couple steps back. Luckily, Meow Meow was still passed out, so Bryson didn’t have to worry about any caustic remarks.
Olivia
stared back with her gigantic blue eyes and casually asked, “Shall we leave?”
“Yeah, let’s say bye to Lilu.”
“No. Let her rest. She is finally getting continuous sleep.”
Bryson hesitated for a moment, then agreed. Allowing her to rest was more important than hearing her voice, so he left without a word.
The timing was perfect. As they walked across the busy lobby, Himitsu had just walked out of Rhyparia’s room. He seemed to be alright, but his expression was masked.
“Nothing changed?” Bryson asked. He felt he already knew the answer, but it didn’t hurt to try being optimistic—something he learned from Jilly.
“No,” Himitsu replied.
Bryson peered through the glass. Rhyparia’s eyes were still open, motionless, and glued to the ceiling above.
“Let’s go,” Olivia said.
They were greeted with an empty street upon exiting the hospital. Only something such as the Generals’ Battle could clear a city like this. The place was a ghost town. They walked in silence for a good while before Himitsu broke it.
“At least we have an easy day ahead of us.”
“Very true,” Bryson said. “I didn’t really fancy the idea of guard duty anyways—so mundane.”
“How jealous will everyone else be, watching us sit in the stands, eat, drink, and just enjoying the show?” Himitsu asked.
“I think they’d be more worried about Rhyparia and Lilu than envying you,” Meow Meow said.
Himitsu frowned. “Just trying to be positive.”
“You know what would be better than sitting in the stands?” Bryson asked.
“What?”
“Sitting in the Royal Suite box,” Bryson said with a crafty grin.
Himitsu shrugged. “I guess we could dream, right?”
“It’s no dream. Lilu invited me, but since she won’t be there, and I don’t want to be there with nobody I know, I’m going to bring you and Olivia with me.”
Himitsu threw his arms into the air and bellowed with joy.
Olivia, however, did not have the same reaction. “No, thank you.” Her kitten hat frowned.
“You’d rather be crammed into an uncomfortable stone bench?” Himitsu asked incredulously.
“I’d rather fulfill the mission assigned to me. I’m not hurt, so I will ask the directors if they can make an exception for me.”
Bryson didn’t argue. Knowing Olivia like he did, he wasn’t surprised at all.
It was quite a journey from the hospital to the stadium, but they’d left early, so there was no rush. And unlike in other kingdoms, they didn’t have to worry about a beaming sun cooking them alive. Bryson was always thankful for the dreary clouds—not that it mattered too much since it was the middle of autumn.
The main entrances to the stadium were flooded with unorganized lines of people. Thankfully, the Jestivan had been instructed to meet at a special guest entrance, so they walked around the perimeter of the towering stone stadium. When they finally arrived, Bryson was happy to not see a giant mass of people fighting over spots in line.
The five Energy Directors and five of the Jestivan were gathered and leisurely talking with each other. Grand Director Poicus had elected to stay at Phesaw over the weekend. A few members of the Intel King Guard were also present. Bryson and Himitsu made a few simple hellos before breaking off from the pack and leaving Olivia behind.
The crowds inside of the stadium walls were even worse. Throngs of people jammed the many food courts and merchandise shops scattered throughout. Children were screaming and playing. A pathetic-looking clown even managed to get a good laugh out of Himitsu.
Finishing their climb to the third floor, they noticed a sharp difference between it and the two lower floors they had just left. First, guards stood by the entrance to grant or deny entry. Luckily, this proved not to be a hindrance as they reacted like they’d known Bryson for years.
“This way,” an armored soldier said. The Intel Kingdom’s insignia—an array of electrical currents—was molded into his chest plate.
The two Jestivan followed the man through the magnificent lobby. Unlike the dirty cement floors of the coliseum’s other levels, the third floor was carpeted in a plush white. The walls were a sunny yellow. A few waiters holding serving trays came in and out of a door that presumably led to a kitchen. Then there were several other doors lining the wall that divided the arena from the outer ring. Bryson suspected those led to the individual suite boxes.
They approached a polished wooden door that was directly in the middle of the rest. The guard knocked three times as Bryson and Himitsu continued to take in the elegant decor surrounding them. A peephole slid open, and a set of green eyes gazed through and scanned over the three of them.
“Lady Lilu’s guests are here,” the guard said.
“I was only aware of one guest, Jeffery,” said a voice through the door. “Who is the tall one?” The eyes in the slit narrowed as she asked.
“I’m Himitsu, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” she repeated in disgust.
The peephole slammed shut and the door swung open as an angry young woman stormed into the lobby. Her hair was a familiar green and it was cut very short—boyish short. It worked for her though. She wore an extravagant golden dress with frills at every hem. Her collar was lined with lace. She had a beautiful diamond earring in each earlobe, a shining bracelet on her left wrist, and a diamond necklace. The white belt that hugged her waist and white heels complimented the diamond jewelry perfectly, but it contrasted her golden clothing even better. She was stunning.
She stood directly in front of Himitsu. “I do not know you, so you will address me as Princess or Lady Shelly.”
“I’m sorry,” Himitsu said in a lightly mocking tone. He saw the woman’s face grow sterner, so he quickly added, “… Princess Shelly.”
She looked toward Bryson, who was busy observing the physical similarities between the princess and Lilu. “Is he your friend?” Shelly asked.
Bryson gave her a guilty smile. “Yes, Princess. He is one of the Jestivan who were caught in the collapse two nights ago.”
She looked up at Himitsu again. “Very well then. Don’t expect me to address you as ‘Zana’ or whatever it is,” she said before turning around and heading back into the suite. “Come in.”
The guard retreated toward the lobby’s main entrance. While Shelly’s back was turned, Himitsu cocked his head to the side with his tongue hanging out as he pretended to hang himself, causing Bryson to hold back a laugh. Based off first impressions, Shelly was somehow even more assertive than Lilu. He chalked it up to how they were raised, which wasn’t their fault. An entitled attitude was bound to form when growing up as royalty.
The area of the suite box closest to the entrance was heavily illuminated by intelights. To the right sat a small bar area for guests to serve their own drinks. This excited Himitsu, but it meant nothing to Bryson since he wasn’t of age. Some furniture rested on the left side of the room, as well as a familiar face that was sprawled leisurely on a sofa.
“Hello, Vistas,” Bryson said as he extended his hand.
The man did not shake his hand, but instead lazily looked at Bryson. “I’m not Vistas,” he said through a yawn.
Confusion crept its way onto Bryson’s face, but Himitsu, who had just walked over with a glass of wine, was the one to respond. “That’s funny.”
The man looked exactly like Vistas. He had the same facial features, black hair, and colored eyes. Not one thing was different.
“He is Flen—not Vistas,” came a new voice.
It was the king. He was dressed in yellow breeches and a waistcoat that represented the Intel Kingdom’s colors. He had the sort of build that looked like a thick layer of fat was lying on top of his muscles in his chest and torso.
The king’s face flooded with delight as Bryson looked up at him. “What an honor!” the king said as he stretched his arm for a handshake.
Bryso
n gave it a firm grasp. “Hello, King Vitio.”
“Oh, no, no, no!” Vitio playfully yelled. “I will not have the offspring of one of my best friends address me so formally. A simple ‘Vitio’ will do.”
Although he should have expected it, the mention of his father threw Bryson off. He was never going to shake his father’s shadow. He internally brushed off the annoyance and attempted a smile. “You and my father achieved monumental things for this kingdom. You were a duo unlike any other.”
King Vitio smiled at the blatant flattery. “Is that what they say?” he rhetorically asked with a grin.
“Not where I’m from,” the Vistas look-alike sneered.
The king turned to look at the black-haired man sprawled on the sofa. “Well, Flen, we’re not concerned about the opinions of the Dark Realm.” Flen just smirked.
After remembering what Lilu said the night before, Bryson asked, “Is he Vistas’s twin?”
“Let’s go with that,” the king replied. His eyes looked over Bryson’s shoulder. “And who is this well-grown gentleman?”
Bryson had forgotten about Himitsu. He was being oddly quiet, which was probably because he was too busy drinking his second glass of wine. “He is a fellow Jestivan. His name is Himitsu,” Bryson explained as he stepped out of the way.
“And which kingdom are you from?” King Vitio asked as Himitsu bowed to him.
“Passion, sir.”
“Ah, an emotional one.”
Himitsu sat down in a cozy armchair and twirled the thin strand of hair lying on his forehead. “I’m a bit different,” he explained. “I must damper any excessive emotions. When your talent in combat is the art of silence, you must silence everything inside first.”
A look of understanding graced Vitio’s face. “You’ve been staying safe, right?” he asked gravely.
Himitsu closed his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
Vitio decided to change the topic. “Let’s go see the view of the arena, Bryson,” he said enthusiastically.
Bryson followed the boulder of a king toward the seating area opposite the entrance door. There was no wall on the other end, just an empty space for clear viewing into the arena below. There were seats for a limited amount of guests—ten, maximum. Only three people occupied the seats—the princess and two men. Bryson was introduced to Corporal Peter, an aging man with a grey goatee, and Major Lars, a significantly younger and more handsome man with a rugged jawline.
The Jestivan (Erafeen, #1) Page 14
