by Rama Nugraha
Datan felt sweat drenched his back under the attire. “Doesn’t matter,” he replied. “I would never guess that elites like the Royans keep a close-minded ancient creature like—“
There was a mild explosion and crackles stinging his chest—if felt like it came from the inside. Datan choked, frowning. Suddenly he was unable to breathe. His instinct told him to look down. His new attire was torn. He glared seeing veined red muscles with pipes in the size of a palm forcing its way out of his chest. Datan was washed over by a wave of incredible pain. There was a hole in his chest! His healthy young heart pumped strongly, getting restless. It was forced out of his now broken ribs, making its way out of his body.
Blood spattered everywhere, dripping to the floor.
The attendees were shocked. Their eyes widened in horror, all stared horrifyingly at Datan. A girl covered her mouth with her palms. No one was making any sound. No one was screaming. No one protested.
Datan jerked as he started to choke and felt cold.
Irirana raised her arms with a mocking smirk. Datan’s heart flew to her awaiting palms, covered in blood. It beat weaker by the second—begging for blood. The rest of the crimson liquid spurted from his pale artery.
Datan’s gaze followed it, he was panicking, scared, yet intrigued. That was the most frightening anguish! His eyes shifted between his heart and Irirana’s eyes. He held back not to beg her to put his heart back in its place.
Irirana stilled, staring at him intensely. Her eyes were like spherical blazing copper even then. Her face was as stern as a bronze mask, it was reddened by anger. Her hair went awry as it was blown by a swirling furious wind in the hall.
“There’s no one in this world…” she hissed, her voice was colder than winter snow, sharper than steel swords. “No one who dares to insult me like that.”
Datan’s mouth gaped. His eyes rattled. His mind was clouded and hazy. What should he do? He was not even a Royan yet. He chocked. Blood filled his throat and spurted out of his mouth.
“You… killed me?”
“Do you know who I am, Datan?”
Datan smirked spitefully. Though he began to lose his strength. He wobbled, feeling extremely disoriented. He was sure that he would soon collapse. “An orthodox?” he panted. Datan was angry. He was furious. Yet, he was unable to do anything, not even to move his fingers.
A man stood up all of sudden, “Kahisar! Stop! You don’t have to—”
Irirana turned her head, glaring at the man. In a blink of an eye, an explosion was heard—like a rifle being fired. A glass on the table was broken. Pieces of glass flew to every direction. Green sticky beverage stained the tablecloth. One of the female Royan yelped as her face was stained with blood.
The Royan who tried to help Datan ended up with a hole in his chest like he was just implied by a burning spear. He was dead in an instant. His body collapsed without any further ado.
“Kahisar loses control!” a female Royan shriek in horror.
“Oh, Unum!”
Chaos broke. Tension gripped every bit of their system.
The air in the hall went wild like a storm. It was dry and as hot as desert air. The flags above them waved frantically. Fire blazed violently. The frames shook horribly, some of them fell and broken. Even so, none of them could bring themselves to run away. They were frightened, but cannot move without orders.
Kanas and Pollo jumped out of their tables, approaching Irirana.
“For Unum!” Kanas bellowed. “You obtuse moron!”
“Guards of Kahisar!!” Pollo called out loudly. “Red Seal Formation!”
“Jarekh! Take Tatya outa this hall!! She’s experiencing a shock!” yelled Kanas, looking at an Urgut with silver hair in a high ponytail. “Jarekh!!”
“I hear you, Kanas!!”
Jarekh agilely moved. He carried a childlike Royan who was shaking in her seat and bolted outside.
On the other hand, three other Royans—two male and a female—moved faster than wolves. They surrounded Irirana and Datan in the midst of the hall which now tarnished by blood. Each of them carried an iron staff in the shade of charcoal. Both ends of the staff had sharp, pointed heads. Skillfully and with great strength, they impaled it to the floor. Loud thump of metals piercing though glass echoed. Those staff stood straight. It hissed, emitting cold air.
Datan caught the process through his peripheral vision. Everything happened in slow motion like time and space was temporarily distorted. Though that was the least of his concern at the moment. His heart! His life! Datan cared about the only life he got which now was in the grasp of the damned creature possessing Irirana!
“Irirana—” Datan mustered the last of his breath to utter that name, even if it was nearly inaudible.
Irirana seemed to ignore him. She was still staring at the weakly beating heart in her palm. Her voice was void of feelings. One time, she squeezes it ever so lightly.
In an instant, as a response, Datan felt incredible pain from his holed and bleeding chest. Datan groaned desperately. Silently, he cursed silently at no one. Fear and darkness clouded his mind. Slowly, his eyes were shut, his eyelashes weighted his lids. His breath was getting shorter and heavier—he smelt the smell of soil and blood. His body shiver in a coldness rattling his bones.
Damn it. Will I die? Have I failed? What will happen next? Damn it! Damn it!
There was no sound. Mute. Datan wanted to cry his heart out. He could no longer feel anything in his body. His senses were gone… he remembered Father…
◆◆◆
There was an explosion shattering the silence.
It impaired everyone’s eyes. A strong gush of air stroke everyone around Irirana. Datan was startled, that wind was as hard as Father’s slaps. Datan opened his eyes, feeling like he had just woken up from a long deep slumber.
He was flabbergasted.
Irirana was still standing before him. She was panting and gasping. The tattoo in her face was no longer there. Her eyes were soft and clear like they were supposed to be. Everyone in the hall froze. Kanas, Pollo, and three other Royan who were Kahisar Guards along with their staff were actually there in the middle of the hall.
Though, there was no single drop of blood on the floor. No one died. No frame fell from its place. There was not any kind of disturbance. It was as if what happened earlier was a mere nightmare.
Datan was sure his heart was back, beating healthily, in his chest.
Irirana stared at Datan in disbelief, the back of his hand wiped her sweated forehead. Then she laughed, even when the entire room still stared at her, horrified.
Kanas’ face looked stern and pale. “I’ve never seen anything like that, Kahisar,” he said, still tense.
“Of course,” Irirana’s eyes were still on Datan. “Who among all of you here dares to insult the Arkaiyan, Kanas?”
Datan jerked, contemplating if he should feel relieved or not. He tried to decipher the fact that Irirana was not the one pulling his heart out of his chest. Datan touched his chest, feeling that his attire was wet because of sweat. “I am happy my heart is still in its place,” he murmured.
“You shall not do that again, Datan.”
Irirana then looked at a woman who was also holding a staff, eyes still widened, staring at her cautiously. “Siley,” she called. “You can breathe now. After this, please prepare the contract. I’ll help you with that. I decide to adjust the regulation to bind Datan.”
Siley blinked to woke herself from a daze. “Datan will be the first Royan to not be bound to Arkaiyan?”
“Correct,” Irirana glance at Datan who was staring at her. “He is an Ingra, so apparently it requires unusual conduct.”
Datan was truly lost at assessing what just happened. He only knew that he was tired and restless. Somehow it felt like he just got away from an accusation of a homicide he did not commit. Joy was nowhere to be found.
Datan squinted. “Your nose is bleeding,” he said. “You alright?”
Irirana w
iped the tiny drop of blood in her nose. “Yeah…” she mumbled, her sight lingered at the sticky crimson liquid in the tip of his thumb. “I’m just a little tired. It is not easy to tame the Spirit of the Night who was feeling furious and insulted.”
“Datan supposed to fail,” Pollo started, his voice was flat. “He should have passed away like those on the wall.”
“I know. But for a reasonable motive, he maintains his stance.”
“You are defending him.”
“Indeed, I am,” Irirana turned around, her eyes gaze sharply towards Pollo’s right eyeball. “Are you questioning my decision, Leader?”
Pollo lowered his head. “Of course not, Kahisar,” he uttered obediently.
People shut their lips. No one could muster a protest, not even Datan. Though deep down, he was glad Irirana was on his side. In silence, Datan could felt piercing gaze of jealousy from every direction.
“You don’t need to be jealous of Datan,” Iriraana said loudly. Her eyes were strict and sharp, glancing at every Royan in the room. “As a candidate of Royan, he’s the only one brave enough to defend his stance in front of the Arkaiyan. You all aware of that.”
Someone gulped loudly.
“Pan…” Kanas scratch the mark in his forehead. “For Unum, we ought to be wise. Don’t forget. We are brothers and sisters.”
“Yes. Kahisar and the Deputy Leader is right,” Silley added, then she started clapping.
Another one followed. Eventually, whether they like it or not, the others clapped for Datan.
A woman with silver hair punched the air with a wide smile in her freckled face. “For Datan Woudward!” she exclaimed, “Welcome to the League, Brother!”
◆◆◆
After the bloody tension, Irirana led Datan and Siley out of the hall. While waiting for their return, she allowed the attendee to feast on the food such as fruit and cakes which soon to be delivered from the League’s kitchen.
Irirana used an empty workroom in the castle. She gave several instructions before Siley started writing, composing a formal letter which was Datan’s contract to join the Royans. Irirana guided Siley fast while Datan waited, staring at the nearby backyard. The green grass of which had been mowed neatly.
After she made a copy, Irirana gave both of the parchments to Datan. He read the content of the agreement written in red ink, his mouth buzzed slightly. His pupils dilated as he read. The writing on there was:
For the night who shall be my comrade
For the darkness who shall be my guide
For the silence who shall be my guard
With this letter as a witness, I, Datan Woudward, pledge to devote myself wholly to the League of the Royan. I will strive to be a good Royan, to fulfill my oath as follows:
First: I will fulfill my duty wholeheartedly.
Second: I will follow the ways, codes, and rules provided.
Third: I will not betray the League under any circumstances, otherwise, my punishment shall be lifelong isolation.
Fourth: I will maintain the good name of the League, as well as maintaining the oneness and to protect the Royans, with every bit of my effort.
Fifth: I will avoid public involvement on duty.
Sixth: I will not use my weapon against helpless poor people, old people, pregnant women, and children.
Seventh: I will not conduct violence in front of children
Any form of violation of it will result in punishment which the Kahisar will bestow upon me.
Yardara, 21 September 0065K
KahisarRoyan
Irirana R. AstaneltaDatan Woudward
Datan turned around, looking at Irirana with a slightly-opened mouth.
“Oh, I remember the insulting gaze,” Irirana said abruptly.
Datan showed his neat pearly white teeth which were indeed well-taken care off. “The last two. Is Iyan still in your head?” he probed with furrowed eyebrows.
“Iyan?”
“Arkaiyan”
“I am not open to objection, Datan.”
Datan pointed the last two oath in the parchment in front of Irirana as if he was holding a mirror for her.
“This is uncool to display!” he exclaimed.
Irirana glared. “It’s up to you now,” she stated. “But if you kept on complaining, I’ll send you back to Fardas and we’ll never see each other again.”
Datan frowned. Irirana meant her words. He knew she did—her voice was challenging.
“You’ve done some crazy thing before the Arkaiyan just now, Datan. Had I not held her back, your heart would have actually been in my hand now,” she declared. “And I am exhausted right now. So, enough is enough.
“Stop resisting about this one.”
Siley chuckled next to her. The woman with the pointy nose looked so amused.
Datan bowed his head, defeated—for a moment felt like Irirana was Aunt Fira. “Alright,” he muttered dejectedly.
Irirana mustered a smile of victory.
“There are many things I want to ask you though.”
“I know. You’ve always been an inquisitive one—ever since we met.”
Datan blinked, startled. Irirana said it like she had known him for such a long time. “I thought you were a servant,” he grumbled.
Irirana furrowed an eyebrow. “I am a servant,” she admitted. “I serve the League of the Royans.”
Datan made a grouse like a bear holding back his anger.
Irirana giggled at the sight. “You can ask more about this later,” she said. “Right now, just finish your contract because our comrades are waiting for us in the hall.”
Siley had prepared a chalice on the table, similar to the one in Halta’s office. Datan signed the parchment as well as leaving a mark of his bleeding finger in the provided space. Irirana then followed. They did the same from the other parchment. At last, blood has bound Datan to the League of the Royans.
Irirana gave him a tight hug. “It’s nice to have you with us,” she said with a sincere smile.
Siley also congratulated him and gave him a handshake. Afterward, they headed back to the main hall. Datan took wide steps with a gleeful face, holding tight the parchment in his hand.
Chapter 12
A Hero’s Betrayal
Datan woke up before ten o’clock. He still remembered vividly last night after he signed the contract, the League had a feast where he talked about many things. Many of the Royans attending praised Datan for his courage in helping Irirana and to object Arkaiyan. They also talked about their previous missions. Kanas even told him his horrifying experience when facing Anag.
Kanas almost lost both of his arms because of the creature.
Going down to the living room, Datan found a piece of notification paper slipped under his door. On it was written:
“I will come for a briefing later in the afternoon,” - Pollo Randalga.
Datan put the paper on top of the table. He proceeded to feed Niko with a bunch of dried worm from a jar labeled “Niko’s Food”. For a moment he stared at the only painting in the main room. Datan felt suspicious of it for the first time since he got here. The foreign, unfathomable feeling radiating from painting was too strong. The black boxes surrounding the “Balance within the Darkness” ode seemed to hide a secret.
Datan was pondering about the painting when his stomach growled.
He went to the kitchen to prepare a breakfast way past the time. It was kass bread, which was made of seaweed and a glass of honey. From there, Datan sat on the living room, musing on his life while waiting for the bell with red pearl in the door to ring melodiously.
Datan chewed slowly. He had never had a Kass bread before. Apparently, it was salty and the green texture reminded him somehow of rubber. Today, finally, Datan was officially a Royan. His mind stopped musing. His heart was chirping ecstatically. Fifteen years had passed since Datan was called crazy for wanting to be a Royan. Now Datan was laughing about it, while back
then he felt like he was a traitor. Aunt Fira even thought that he was literary insane, which for her was the only explanation for his deviant behavior.
◆◆◆
Pollo came exactly at twelve o’clock when Datan was reading the exciting book, The Man with Silver Hands.
Pollo was wearing a grey tunic. His hair smelt like cinnamon-scented oil he used, making his hair with the gold and the rings looked even classier under the sunlight. Pollo brought another offering for Datan. It was crested quails’ eggs. He told him that he had just discovered it recently, the recipe of which no other man knew. The dish resembled dark tiny boiled eggs arranged neatly in the bowl. Beef broth was poured over it. It was garnished with celery and green sesame.
Datan was amazed. The dish was very “Pollo.” It looked exotic and smelt mesmerizingly delicious. The dish would make anyone’s appetite popped in excitement.
“You should try it, Datan,” Pollo said enthusiastically. “It took me a whole night to cook it.”
Sometimes it was hard to believe that a gallant man such as Pollo loved cooking that much—though he could tell Pollo prefer not to discuss that hobby too much. He cooked for his own pleasure. Once in a blue moon, though, he shared it to others. Pollo would only talk about the seasonings, spices, or the recipe if his interlocutor shared the same interest or enthusiasm as himself.
Datan felt his tongue tickling him the more time he spent looking at the dish, which apparently is called Polloh Quail. With a fork, he took one to his mouth. The texture was soft, and the taste was rich with spiced broth, especially of black pepper. It left a salty-sweet aftertaste.
Datan blinked at Pollo.
“Does every dish you make have this aftereffect… making people so elated that they can barely control their words?”
Pollo was flushed like a young chef complimented by a food critic. He kept brushing his ornamented hair, making melodious clinking sound on his head.
Datan forced himself not to laugh.
Pollo then guided Datan around the village. The eccentrically dressed man took a three-wheeled cart which was parked next to Datan’s house. It was made of silver webbing decorated with rubies in the shape of a hooded owl. Inside of it was fruits and other food ready to be devoured. Pollo knocked on the door of almost every house. Every now and then he gave the owner of the house two ripe apples before continued pulling the cart.
