The First Five Days: of the Lionean Saga

by John O.

  The pirate smiled lewdly as he observed her in the position in which he wanted her. As he walked towards her, he said, “Now where do we begin?”

  A knife impaled his back, causing the giant to howl in pain as he turned around to see Set making his way towards him. “You!” the pirate roared with rage. He rotated his spear and swung horizontally in an attempt to cut Set’s side. Instead of parrying, Set chose to dodge the attack by flipping over. Set anticipated another attack but to his surprise, the pirate jumped over the bulwark and pierced an unsuspecting Sin who was just retrieving his sword from the body of another pirate whom he had just killed. Sin stood no chance; he simply fell to the floor where he bled to death in a matter of counts.

  Enraged, Set attempted to go after the pirate to no avail; for the pirate proceeded to jump all the way down to the lowest deck before jumping into the sea. As Set regarded Sin’s body with regret, he instinctively knew that nothing the pirates did made apparent sense. No escape ship or boat. No looting was attempted. In fact, it seemed like the giants were only a diversion to a clandestine operation which was probably over. They were Kawachi after all; there was no telling what their true objective was.

  Sentor Raiden Ni disentangled himself from the woman beside him. It was not his desire to pass the entire night at the townhouse and as such, he needed to return to his post.

  “Hey,” the woman said with a sleepy tone and began to stroke his back. “Done so soon?”

  “No offence darling; that was the best I’ve had in a long time. But I need to return to my patrol route, so I must be on my way now.”

  “That’s too bad. Unlike you, I have the night to myself.”

  “You’re a waitress. So I guess you need to be up early by morning; except you work in shifts with another?”

  “Who said I was a waitress?”

  Raiden Ni frowned, for he was unsure of the game the woman seemed to be playing. Shrugging, he said, “Whoever you are, it’s time for me to go. Here’s your coin and a little extra for doing a good job.”

  “Who said I need your money? Do not presume to insult me, Sentor.”

  This time around, Raiden was stopped in his tracks. It was unusual for a tavern woman to turn down gold, yet this woman had done so with an air of nobility of some sort. Suddenly wary, Raiden picked up his sword and unsheathed it. With a cold hard voice, he said, “You will tell me who you are or lose your life.”

  “Hey no need for that. I am Siri Hart, daughter of Aishe Hart.”

  “What in the world were you doing working as a waitress?!”

  “To get your attention, silly. I first noticed you two days ago during the brawl which you caused. You never took your eyes of the waitresses and as such, could not notice me in the corner. I decided to volunteer as one and it seems I was spot on.”

  Raiden was confused as to why she had sought him so. “Siri Hart, what do you want from me?”

  “Wrong question; for I want nothing from you. However, I want you, Raiden Ni.”

  “You are talking to the wrong man. I have no interest in long term arrangements.”

  “But−−”

  “I’m done here.” With that, Raiden left the room without a backward glance, much to the annoyance of Siri Hart, who watched him leave with a gaping mouth.

  The man who called himself Vyne Duron ditched his horse in the woods outside the Central District. He was good at what he did and, as such, he knew it best to eliminate one’s trail by proceeding on foot. As opposed to going straight for the antidote at the Foté Province, he decided to use a more circular route around the Sint Province for he knew he had time as the poison supposedly took roughly eighteen hours to a few days before death struck.

  As he noiselessly made his way through the woods, he marveled at how far he had come in life. Orphaned at the age of three, he had lived as a street urchin in Nuan, the capital city of the country, Moulin. At the time, the country was just recovering from a fifty-year famine that had forced mass migration to other lands abroad. Hunger reigned supreme, leaving orphans like himself no other choice than to resort to pilfering. A loaf of bread here, an apple there; that was how he had lived up till he was nine, having been caught and beaten multiple times during the six long years. As he grew, he discovered he had a distinct ability; the ability to blend in. A master of disguise, there were only few men who could identify him when he assumed a new look. The limitation, however, was that the number of faces he assumed was limited and, thus, he had to repeat them every now and then. It was a good thing clothes varied infinitely, for this helped to complement his talents.

  Working as a lone ranger, he had posed as a stable boy, farm hand, kitchen help and what not in order to practice his trade. Eventually, he had stolen so much within the same city that the citizens began to see the pattern and suspect it was the same culprit. Soon after, wanted posters with portraits of his guises were pasted all through Nuan and this left him to retreat into hiding. But where would he hide as a boy without a home? Plain sight, he concluded at the time. Taking up a new guise, he wormed his way into the then King’s household as a cleaner who scrubbed the defecatory sites spotless. He remained there for two years while the hunt for him waned. On one fateful night, just when he had concluded it was safe to steal from the King’s coffers and disappear for good, he had run into a scheme that changed his life forever.

  In the shadows of the ceiling where he hid the little he had gathered from the palace, he had heard the soft howls of two guards as they fell to the ground. Curious, he made his way through the ceiling woodwork until he arrived at a point above where he heard the guards. From the way they laid, it was evident they had been killed. A shrill cry of a woman followed a few minutes later, after which the alarm bells began to ring. Panicked, the boy decided to return to his lowly room in order to have an alibi should an inquisition occur. He had navigated the framework for about five minutes when he came face to face with a man.

  The man instinctively poised to throw a knife only to realize it was a boy who was before him.

  “What are you, boy?” he whispered.

  “I’m onnnlyy a servvvant herrree. Don’tt huurrt me please,” he stammered in reply as he lost control of his bladder.

  The torrid smell caused the assassin to snarl in low tones, “Curse you boy. Can you not control yourself?”

  The impostor was dumbstruck for his fear had gotten the better of him.

  “If I kill you, you’ll rot in time and the smell will trigger a search through the roof. If I let you go, you’ll tell on me. You see why you have to be my hostage for the time being?”

  “Sire, they’ll suspect me if I’m not found where I should be...”

  “That makes it better for me, no? Takes suspicions off an external intruder.”

  “How long will we be here?”

  “For as long as need be. No one will suspect the perpetrator to remain within the palace, so we will stay here until the search wanes and the borders loosen once again.”

  “But that may take too long a time.”

  “Not if the one who hired me lives. Believe me it won’t; a few days at most. A good thing you’ll come to be a suspect. That will make it much easier for me to slip away.”

  “Hired you to do what?”

  The man regarded him with a look that suggested he was considering what he had to lose by telling the boy. A few counts passed before he said, “Your King is dead.”

  The boy’s survival instinct kicked in, for he knew the man would do away with him as soon as it was time for him to depart. The man had evidently concluded that he was to be done away with, which is why he had easily told him what his mission had been. He had to make this man need him somehow, or his life was forfeit. After a few minutes, he made a play.

  Still in low tones, he began, “I am a thief; always have been for as long as I remember. My parents died when I was three and it was the only way for me to survive. I like to think myself a master of disguise and this has helped me survive for
as long as I have.”

  “Where are you going with this?” the assassin asked, bored.

  “You’ll see,” the boy replied and continued, “Like you, I came to hide out in this palace, for the people soon drew a pattern to the various semblances I adopted. As we speak, I remain a wanted figure. If you spent any time in Nuan, you may have come across a few portraits of me on the notice boards. In any case, the King’s murder and my sudden absence will draw them to investigate me more. In a short while, they’ll figure I’m the wanted chap and a search through the palace will be launched. After all, I was hiding in plain sight for more than two years, and it is therefore logical that I will attempt the same feat. If they reason as I have−−”

  “Then this hideout will be compromised,” the assassin concluded for him. He considered it and saw the boy had a strong point. Being a man of the underworld, he knew the boy wasn’t finished. With a menacing look, he said, “I believe you have a proposal, since we seem to inevitably be in the same boat?”

  The boy who had been holding his breath let out some air and replied, “I know a way out. It’s ugly, but it’s our path to freedom.”

  “Out with it then.”

  “No. Not until you give me your word that you’ll let me live.”

  The assassin almost laughed at the boy’s naïve bargaining. The word of a criminal held no merit whatsoever. Didn’t he see that? He looked at the boy again and realized just how young he was. He held promise, the assassin thought, for despite his wily ways he was still but a boy.

  “I’ll let you live not because of what you may think. You have talent for my trade and it’s only fair that I let you live to explore them.” After a brief pause, the man smiled and said, “In fact, I have a good mind to take you along with me. If you join my organization at this age, you’ll become a god of the shadows when you’re fully grown. And you’ll have more coin than you’ve ever imagined.”

  The boy’s eyes widened with hope. For all he had always wanted was to belong somewhere. Perhaps his chance had finally come, “You’ll take me with you?”

  “That is if we both live. Your plan had better be genius.”

  The boy shed a small tear of joy before replying, “I clean the latrines here in the palace. I know the channels through which they flow, I know how to access them and I know where they empty into. If you love life more than you hate the smell of droppings, I can have us outside city gates by dawn.”

  And that was how the man who called himself Vyne Duron had joined the Kawachi. He had been ferried across to Gale where he had operated for ten years before he was sent to Lionea. In his three years there, he had found that he enjoyed working in Lionea best; for the tight law enforcement system on the Island had proved to be the most challenging he had ever faced. His just concluded mission would see to it that the HN wouldn’t live to see another day after this. To him, it was to be his pinnacle achievement since he joined the Kawachi.

  As a result of his reverie, he had failed to notice when another figure joined his trail about ten minutes prior. Oblivious, he continued on with the confidence that he would obtain the antidote from the client in good time.

  It had been about two hours since the attack. Set stood and watched as Jin and some of his men wrapped Sin’s body. He kept going over the recent events with a conviction that he could have prevented Sin’s death. So lost was he in thought that he didn’t realize when Jessamine came behind him.

  “I am sorry about your friend,” her voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

  He turned around with a smile and said, “Thank you.”

  “I realize I had earlier judged him harshly. His bravery is worthy of being sung about by the ballads.”

  Set nodded and replied, “He was a happy man, lucky to have found his calling to paint very early in life.” He laughed nostalgically before continuing, “He loved his job, women and food. In short, he loved life. At such a young age of twenty seven, I believe he has lived more fully than many twice his age. I wonder if his existence perseveres in an afterlife, or if he is gone for good.”

  Jessamine only smiled at his remark.

  After a few counts, Set looked about the ship and watched as the bodies were gathered to a particular section. Realizing the magnitude of casualties that must have been incurred, he turned to Jessamine and said, “You seem to have lost a lot of men! Do you know how many?”

  “Thirty-five dead and twelve injured. Only three among the Sentors are unharmed,” Jessamine replied.

  “I am so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It would have been worse, especially for me, had you and your men not shown up; although it does beg the question about painters being so skilled at the sword that they were able to take on these men without much help.”

  Set hardened slightly as he considered an appropriate response. In time, he heard himself say, “It’s a tough world out there. Even we painters need to learn self-defense; especially as we travel with our valuable goods all the time.”

  “I see,” Jessamine replied and stepped closer. “You know, you remind me of a man I once knew. If I were to shave your hairs, mustache and beard, you would look exactly like him. His name was Hito Hent.”

  Set regarded her with a confused look and said, “Hito Hent? What a strange name it is. Who is this man to you?”

  “He was once a Leade in Lionea.”

  “Was? Does he still live? For I would very much like to meet this look-alike of mine.”

  “Please, don’t treat me like some fool. I know you are Hito Hent,” Jessamine replied with a smile.

  Just then, a bald headed man walked towards the pair and said, “I am the captain of this ship and I wish to thank you and your men for assisting the Sentors in defending this ship against the pirates. I am more than grateful.”

  The mention of pirates once again raised the question of their intent. Set nodded towards the man and watched him walk away.

  “You have a problem with the captain, Hito Hent?” Jessamine asked upon noticing the pensive mood that suddenly came upon Set.

  “Not at all. His remark made me consider something of an oddity. In any case, you’re adamant that I am Hito aren’t you?”

  “I’m as adamant as I am certain, Hito. I cannot forget how much I admired you when you claimed both Glories at the Swordsman and Rider games. The painters immediately made so much money from selling your portraits to us young girls at the time. To date, I have your portrait hanging in my room back home.”

  Set beamed as he realized just how many hearts he had won outside the Helesp. It was a good feeling to know he wasn’t forgotten after all these years.

  “So tell me, Hito, how did you escape?”

  Set regarded her with a smile before saying, “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me. Besides, you’re a Sentor and in time you would inform the authorities.”

  “Fair enough. Will you at the very least tell me what you’ve been doing since your escape?”

  Set thought for a brief moment and nodded in the affirmative. He had been up to noble causes only so he didn’t see how it would hurt his chances with her.

  “Excellent!” she said with excitement. “That means we have a lot to discuss. I expect the ship to dock sometime near the Twilight Hour later today so I guess we’ll discuss when dawn breaks. For now though, I need to attend to my fellow Sentors and get some sleep.”

  “It’s a date then,” he replied with a smile. She proceeded to make her way towards the other Sentors while he returned his thoughts to his fallen comrade. Without Sin, he could not have achieved all that he had in exile. Despite the knowledge of human mortality, we inadvertently tend to think our loved ones will live forever. The shocking moment when we see them lifeless is the ever-cruel reminder that death is inevitable, he thought. With a sigh, he proceeded to pay Sin his last respects.

  30

  It was only two hours left until the Hen’s Hour and Rosi had surreptitiously followed Vyne into the Foté Province. He was amazed at how the
man infiltrated the province undetected. He didn’t even need to take advantage of the few blind spots in the Protors’ formation as he had taken an underground channel from the woods and emerged within the Province gates. Rosi was amazed at the vastness of the subsurface channels, for he had observed many detours along the way that probably led to other provinces. So this was how criminals moved about, he realized. The markings on the tunnel walls suggested they had existed long before Hinary and were probably a staple means of transport for the Icasa at the time. The HN would have to do something about this network if law and order were to be maintained.

  With good reason, the assassin stayed out of sight as he avoided the cobblestoned pathways. In time, he appeared before the door of what should be the Lector’s personal cottage. Rosi remained within the shadows and watched carefully. The door opened as Johatsu Foté emerged with a surprised look.

  “Who are you and what brings you knocking at this hour?” he asked

  “I am the agent who executed the deed you asked of my master. He informed me you requested the antidote as insurance. The deed is complete now so you may hand it over.”

  Johatsu stared in disbelief. This was the exact opposite of what he had demanded. “Utter nonsense, you fool! Your antidote lies with your master. You need to leave now lest you be seen by any! I expressly stated that there has to be no direct link to me. Go!”

  The assassin could not believe his ears. With widened eyes, he replied, “What are you saying? My master would never betray me so. Hand over the antidote this instant!”

  Johatsu was nearly taken over by hysteria. “You need to keep your voice down. Believe me I have no antidote. You need to hurry back to your master lest you die in futility; you’re barking up the wrong tree.”