17

A Chilling Acquaintance

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Bryson spent the next week in Dunami’s streets, observing as royal workers went door to door, not only to the homes in the capital’s outskirts and suburbs, but to the taverns of the inner city. It didn’t matter if someone was a citizen of the Intel Kingdom, a visitor, or a tourist from another kingdom, every residential building was perused. It made Bryson sick to see the confusion clouding the faces of most—or worse, the heartbreak of those who couldn’t prove their energy and thus didn’t receive identification at all. It pleased Bryson to know that nobody lost their homes because of this, but knowing that this would cause people to feel like social outcasts saddened him. This new socioenergenic classification system would fail.

Today he was thankful that Olivia had tagged along with him. Bryson had grown tired of trying to ignore the stares of passersby. At least with his sister there, the scrutiny was shared. Unlike the first couple years as Jestivan, most of the attention the two of them now received was either that of pity or disgust. Many factors contributed to this, none of which were fair: the reveal that they were offspring of a Dark Realm royal firstborn; their connections with people deemed traitorous, such as Rhyparia, Ophala, Poicus, and Senex; their connection with an actual traitor in Yama; and their very public announcement that they’d be inheriting the last name of “Still.”

Despite all of this, Bryson didn’t want the citizens to be treated unfairly by the royals. Perhaps it was silly of him to care for the public when they couldn’t care less about him. Had Lars been right? Was Bryson too much of an idealist?

Seated on a stoop across the street from an inn, Bryson leaned back with a look of resentment. As he watched a group of ten soldiers enter the building, Bryson asked, “And what are we to be identified as?”

Seated on the stoop’s stone rail, Olivia said, “That’s a fair question.”

He shook his head. “Seriously, you can’t even prove your energy. The one time you did show signs of an ability, it was water! How are they to classify that? And we’re both half Stillian!”

As he shouted the final word in frustration, a passing man curled his upper lip and picked up his pace. Bryson stood up and yelled down the sidewalk, “Deal with it!”

“I don’t know how you and Shelly can coexist without exploding from bumping heads,” Olivia said. “Ill-tempered and stubborn.”

Taking a seat again, he replied, “She isn’t that bad. Lilu was the ill-tempered one, which was why we were never on the same wavelength. Our lack of a temperament created a lack of cohesion.”

Olivia smirked. “Understatement of the century.”

“Hey, I’ve gotten better.”

“I suppose.”

Slouching over farther, Bryson placed his chin between his knees. “We’ll never have to worry about identification because of our status as Jestivan. Oh, the privilege of being a talented weaver.”

“You are very much an idealist,” Olivia said.

He looked at her. “You believe all of this is okay?”

Olivia gazed down at him sternly. “You love the fact that we’re siblings, Bryson—and I do, too—but that doesn’t mean we are the same. We think differently. I do believe that this is necessary considering the present circumstances of the world.” After a pause, she gazed back at the inn and said, “Meow Meow shaped me in that way. He was very much a realist.”

Bryson sighed. “I miss that damned cat.”

They shared a moment of silence, the sparse mid-morning crowd’s din filling the street. Olivia eventually withdrew her pipe, flint, and a striker. Bryson stifled an eye-roll. Several more minutes ticked by before the officers finally exited the inn. Thankfully, nobody came with them.

Bryson breathed a sigh of relief. While it was rare, he had witnessed a few times over the course of the week citizens being dragged from their homes and to the palace. When he had confronted Vitio about it, he was told that nobody had been arrested or convicted of anything. Those who had been removed from their families were for temporary questioning.

Bryson harbored doubt. Alas, this kingdom had been known for committing some heinous atrocities. Thus he had made it a point to remember every face that was taken by officers. He’d allow a few days to pass, only to return to the place of abduction to verify that the person had returned. He had yet to be disappointed.

As he heard marching boots against cobblestone, Bryson glanced down the street. It had become a common noise while the officers worked, but this sounded louder than usual. The street lay empty until a few soldiers turned the corner a couple blocks away. And those few were followed by over twenty more.

“I haven’t seen a group that big yet,” Bryson said, his eyes narrowing with intrigue, waving his hand in front of his face to disperse a cloud of pipe smoke.

An officer waved over the group that had just departed from the inn, and the two groups converged in front of Bryson and Olivia. The larger unit of officers looked to be circling something or someone, blocking sight from the public as a man and woman discussed something. After the discussion came to an end, the woman followed the man into the circle.

Bryson hopped onto the stone banister opposite of Olivia, trying to get a better angle. Perhaps he could see over the helmets of the soldiers.

“Who do you think they found?” Bryson asked.

“Clearly someone they deem a threat,” she replied. “My guess is someone with energy belonging to a kingdom of the SCAPD alliance.”

The two leaders broke free of the circle and commanded their soldiers to continue forward as one. They marched down the street in the direction of the distant palace.

“I must know who it is!” Bryson whined.

Olivia slid off the banister. “Let’s find out.”

* * *

By the time the two royal siblings reached Dunami Palace’s grounds, the search party had already split off toward the barracks. Bryson and Olivia tried to chase them down the dirt path that headed east, but they were stopped at the entryway.

“You better let me in,” Bryson said, mustering up his best threatening voice.

“I’m sorry, Zana Bryson. I cannot allow it,” the guard said.

Bryson didn’t want to have to resort to this, but, with something of this magnitude, he didn’t care. “Do you realize who you’re talking to?” He almost gagged after hearing himself out loud.

“I do, Zana, but this is a delicate situation. The king would cast punishment upon me for allowing anyone through under this circumstance. I’d refuse even the princess.” The guard paused, waiting for a reaction out of Bryson. Instead the young Jestivan craned his neck to look through the gate. “Speak with the king,” the guard continued, “and I’m sure he’ll let you know what’s happening. I, however, have no power to make such a decision.”

Olivia grabbed the hood of Bryson’s jacket, yanking him in the opposite direction. “Is it your goal to fully embody this position as a prince?” she asked. “Must you act like that?”

Once a fair distance from the barrack gate, she released her grip. Readjusting his collar, he said, “It sounded pretty bad, didn’t it?”

“You speak against classification, and then try to enforce a decision upon that man through the use of your title as a Jestivan. Your mind has always been a muddled mess. You’ve grown, but you’re still a child with growing to do.”

Bryson frowned and thrust his hands in his pockets, displaying the very image she was accusing him of. “Just lay it on me, why don’t you?”

An audience with Vitio proved to be more difficult than usual. The sun had sunk from its highest point in the sky to sitting directly atop the horizon by the time they were retrieved by Vistas.

“Who is it?” Bryson asked as they descended a staircase.

“The king hasn’t spoken to anyone about it—not even General Lars,” Vistas said. “He’s been cooped up in a room with the stranger for the entirety of the afternoon. And the soldiers who escorted him to the palace have been sequestered to prevent leakage of any information.”

Bryson and Olivia shared a quick glance as the Dev servant continued, “After hours of seclusion, the king requested the presence of one person.” He turned to gaze at Olivia. “You.”

Bryson shoved Olivia against the wall. “Why are you so popular?”

She responded with a swift punch to his cheek. He keeled over the banister of a rotunda overlook, rubbing his jaw as he regained his balance.

“That was me holding back,” she said.

Vistas laughed harder than Bryson had ever heard from him.

“So that’s what it takes for you to laugh,” Bryson said bitterly.

“I’m sorry,” Vistas said. “It reminded me of Tristen and Flen when we were children.”

They traveled a ways through the palace before Bryson asked, “Are we headed for the barracks?”

“Not quite,” Vistas said. “Our destination is just before the barracks. It is the headquarters of the military branch, where the officers live.”

The amount of soldiers increased the farther east they traveled through the palace. Bryson was surprised by their lax nature. A lot of them stood casually to the side, mingling amongst each other. The capture of this mystery person seemed to be the source of the gossip. The architecture here didn’t differentiate much from the royal quarters. He was expecting something ancient and crude, similar to what he had seen over a year ago when he was a guest at General Lars’s promotion from major.

“Not quite how I pictured this place,” Bryson said. “What happened to the stone walls and dirt floors?”

As they approached a string of officers blocking the hall, Vistas explained, “If you’re speaking of the location of General Lars’s promotion, King Vitio said that was a very old sector of the palace, once serving as the military wing before renovations elsewhere rendered it useless.”

Vistas stopped in front of the officers. “The requested visitor is here.”

“Only Lita Olivia,” a woman replied.

It took all of Bryson’s effort not to retaliate, but he decided to prove Olivia’s earlier accusations wrong. He wasn’t a child. He watched as the officers split, allowing Olivia access. She continued down the hall until reaching a man who opened a door for her. After she disappeared, Bryson turned and left. He figured his time waiting was better spent with Shelly.

* * *

Olivia nodded at Major Peter as he reached out and opened the door, keeping his back to the room. As she stepped inside, the door closed behind her. The room was dark, with only three candles at the center of a lone table. She saw King Vitio first, but as her eyes met the man who sat across from him, she slowed her approach.

“Good evening, Olivia,” Vitio said. “I believe you know this man.”

She looked him once over. He didn’t wear his powder blue cloak or the mask that covered his mouth, but she wasn’t one to forget a face. “Titus Finilguster ...”

“Olivia Still,” he replied with a smile.

Vitio stood up and extended a hand toward his chair. “Take a seat, Olivia.”

As she did so, the king said, “I need you to verify his claims before you speak with him. Who is this man? I know he’s a Stillian. He was very upfront about his ice abilities when confronted by the soldiers in the street.”

“You didn’t attack anyone, did you?” Olivia asked.

Titus closed his eyes and shook his head. “Of course not.”

“Good.” She looked up at Vitio and said, “He was once an officer in the Still Army. He, along with Toono and I, were part of the plan to murder former Still Queen Salia a little over two years ago. He was also a childhood friend of my mother, Queen Apoleia.” Her gaze returned to Titus. “As for why he is in the Intel Kingdom, I don’t know. I must have been left out of the loop on that piece of information after my mother claimed I betrayed her.”

King Vitio gazed curiously at the man, and Titus shrugged. “I can retrieve my officer’s cloak from my bedroom back at the inn if you’d like. The crystal snowflake on the back would prove everything.”

The king shook his head and, instead, shrunk into the shadowy corner of the room. “Carry on,” he said.

The room fell silent as Olivia and Titus studied each other. It felt like she had just run into an old acquaintance, but nothing more—like an old friend of a parent who you’ve only met once. The only time she had interacted with Titus was the night of their mission to kill her grandmother. Granted, that night alone made him a good guy in her books. Anyone who acted against that evil woman was her friend.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“That’s a loaded question,” he said, leaning back with his finger tapping the table.

“It really isn’t.”

He sighed. “I’ve been here for sixteen months. Apoleia had sent me on Toono’s behalf to scout the Intel Kingdom. It was a prolonged mission designed for the endgame. I was to spot cracks in the political or economic infrastructure, seek citizens or low-level ranks of the military that were willing to turn on their king, or scour the city for the possibility of secret teleplatforms. After all, this was the home of Mendac, so it wasn’t farfetched to believe he had hid several throughout either realm—especially here.

“During those first few months, that was my purpose—and it was easy. Originally, it was to aid Toono’s efforts since he was the main reason we were able to achieve what we did that night in Kindoliya—a sort of repayment. Over time, it became difficult to continue sneaking around. I didn’t enjoy what I was doing, and I think it all stemmed from the first night following Bryson’s broadcast to the public announcing the heinous crimes of his father. The capital ignited the grandest bonfire I had ever seen and torched all memorabilia commemorating Mendac LeAnce. In that moment, I saw the true nature of the Intelian people. They weren’t reflections of that man—not completely. They still were ignorant in how they thought about the idea of Apoleia being yours and Bryson’s mother.”

Titus’s gaze dropped to the ember. “That’s why it’s a loaded question. I lost my way. There came a stretch of several months when I didn’t know what I was doing here. I wanted to get in contact with you, but I found out that you had been sent into the Archaic Mountains, so that was hopeless. Honestly, I thought you wouldn’t make it back, which was a depressing thought of its own.

“I had grown content with the thought of either living out my life here as a lie or returning to Kindoliya. But if I had chosen the latter, I would have feared what Apoleia would have said to me.” He paused in thought. “And that’s when war was declared. And then I learned that the Still Kingdom was on the side of Dev King Storshae and the Archaic Kingdom ... and, naturally, Toono.

“Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing but gratitude for the help that man provided to us years ago, but I know as well as anyone that he is teamed with bad people. Our relationship with Toono didn’t involve this grander war. I think the only reason he helped us in the first place was because it gave him the Stillian sacrifice he needed, and the only reason we helped him was because he’d kill the woman responsible for sweeping Mendac’s rape of Queen Apoleia under the rug.”

Titus gazed into the room’s depths, where the burly Intel King lingered in the darkness. “When I learned about the war and how the lines were drawn between the kingdoms, that’s when I found my purpose again.” His eyes grew stern. “My queen is making a mistake. Even with the loss of the Passion King and the altercations between the Adren King and Spirit Queen, True Light is still far more united than SCAPD can ever be. Those kingdoms cannot coexist—the Diatia are a perfect example of what I mean. They cannot operate like the Jestivan. Nobody even knows where most of them are.”

Vitio stepped forward. “What is your point, Titus?”

“You can get Apoleia on your side. The Dev Kingdom may have stolen the Archaic and Power Kingdoms from your alliance, but you can take the Still Kingdom from them.”

“That would never happen,” Olivia refuted. “My mom would never side with the kingdom that created Mendac and Bryson. She’d rather kill my aunt.”

Titus’s eyebrows furrowed. “You really think your mother could do that to Ropinia? Your mom may be ... erratic, but she isn’t heartless—not when it comes to her sister.”

“And you think you have an idea as to how we can make this work,” Vitio said.

“I wouldn’t have let myself get caught if I didn’t. Otherwise, I’d still be hiding as an unable.”

“Look at me,” Olivia said, causing Titus’s eyes to shift toward her. “Really, look at me.”

“You have my undivided attention.”

“Do you honestly believe you can get my mother to change her mind after two decades of hating the LeAnce family more than anything in the world?”

“I do.”

Olivia read every facet of his answer, from the stillness of his limbs and facial muscles, steadiness of his eyes, and tone of his voice. To get a better read, she asked, “You want to be on our side?”

“Yes.” His answers were firm. Most importantly, he was patient. He didn’t try to cut her off before she finished the question—an obvious red flag. A lot of people believed that the quicker you answered a question, the more believable your answer seemed. In reality it made that person seem defensive, making the answer sound more like a mixture of frustration and desperation.

If there was a skill Olivia had developed throughout her life, it was that of observation. First she learned to listen and watch, then she learned to comprehend.

“Okay,” she said. “So you have a plan and believe in it. Now make us believe.”

Titus nodded. “You know your mother. Who is it she loves more than anyone?”

“Her father.”

He nodded again. “And a big reason why she hates Mendac isn’t just because of what he did to her, but because of the condition he put her father in. Mendac fully paralyzed him. The man cannot move a muscle. He can’t speak, and breathing is nearly impossible. It’s a miracle he’s lived for as long as he has. Apoleia would do anything for her father, so what kind of drastic measures would she be willing to take if it meant he could move and speak again?”

“You’re asking for miracles,” Olivia said.

“Am I though?” asked Titus. “It was the electricity of Mendac’s Intel Energy that paralyzed Gennaio. He short-circuited his nervous system or caused his brain to malfunction—or that’s what’s believed. Who’s to say that if Intel Energy can interrupt the electrical flow of a body’s nerves that it can’t do the opposite and kick it back into gear?”

Olivia went silent, quickly realizing the legitimacy of his argument. The morning she became a Jestivan, Grand Director Poicus told the story of Thusia’s Sacrifice, which described the events of the battle between Dev King Rehn and two Jestivan, Thusia and Mendac. Thusia performed an ability unique to Spiritians. She released her Spirit Energy into Mendac’s body to ignite his soul and make him forget his pain, but doing something like that had a side-effect: paralysis.

Her body had fallen limp and was crushed under the massive feet of a demon, but it was said that Mendac used his Intel Energy to weave strands of electricity into the puddle she had landed in with the purpose of countering the paralysis. Supposedly, it had worked. Mendac found her arm extended from beneath the defeated demon, and when he put her hand in his, she squeezed and held on until death.

Vitio approached the table, pressing his hands into the surface. “Are you thinking of Thusia’s story?”

She nodded. “But it’s not as simple as injecting someone with electricity. I’d assume that it takes a person who knows their way around the body’s nervous system. Mendac was a connoisseur of anatomic studies. While his specialty dealt with the energies and energy canals, he believed they tied in with other internal organs, so he studied everything. He knew what he was doing when he tried countering Thusia’s or triggering Gennaio’s paralysis. Who else do we know who has his level of expertise in the human body and skill in weaving?”

“I was hoping the Intel King here would know someone who fit the category,” Titus said, his eyes roving up to Vitio. “Perhaps Bryson? He is Mendac’s son after all.”

Vitio laughed at the idiocy of the suggestion. Even Olivia smirked, but she couldn’t blame Titus. He had never met Bryson. “That’s a negative,” she said. “Bryson’s as dense as they come. He’s sculpted to be a soldier, not a scientist.”

“A bit harsh on your brother, ay?”

Vitio sighed. “I suppose I know someone who could achieve what it is you’re looking for. He served as Mendac’s research partner for many years.”

Titus lightly pounded his fist against the table. “That settles it then.”

“Hold on.” Vitio straightened up and glared at Titus. “How are we getting word to the Still Queen? And how will we arrange such a meeting?”

Titus’s eyebrows climbed his temple. “Well ... we have to go to them.”

“What?”

“We have to enter the Still Kingdom and gain an audience with her. You’d have to form a formidable party, of course—just in case. However, if I’m leading it and Olivia is with me, I can almost guarantee you no harm. Apoleia wouldn’t act irrationally with the two of us present. She’d hear us out.”

The king cursed under his breath. “I knew this was too good to be true. I won’t let you lead us into a trap.”

Olivia’s chair slid backward as she stood up. “I’ll speak with Bryson. This can work. I’ll get back to you by tomorrow.”

As she headed for the door, Vitio said, “We’re not doing this.”

She turned with a placid gaze. “Following Jilly’s death, you said you wouldn’t hold us back anymore. The Jestivan are here to do things others cannot. This is one of those things. I’m young, but even I understand war is no time to be hesitant.” She paused while Vitio stood in silence. “Besides, as much as True Light needs an extra kingdom on their side, I want my mother back. One day I want to live there. I want to call it my home.”

After a short pause, Vitio gave a dismissive nod. “You’re right. But if it goes wrong—”

“We fight back, and we either live or die.”

* * *

Bryson had never seen Toshik in such condition. They sat together in a library, and once again the swordsman had a fresh wound, this one requiring a lot of bandages around his thigh. Sweat stained his tunic and lathered his face. He reeked, and his hair was a ruffled mess.

Toshik didn’t care about his image anymore. He didn’t wear suits or bother with putting product in his hair to make it look as if it had been molded out of clay. Without Jilly attached to his hip, he seemed naked—much like Olivia when Meow Meow had been taken from her. Every ounce of his willpower went into training. Bryson began allowing him access into his backyard to use the peg course. Toshik had become galvanized.

Bryson stared at the Adrenian’s wrapped thigh. “Whoever you’re training with must be someone special.”

“I won’t find someone better,” Toshik said as he lay back on a table, staring at the ceiling. “This is him holding back, mind you. He’s had to stop himself from killing me multiple times.”

While Bryson sifted through the possibilities of who it could have been, the double doors to the library opened. Olivia walked through the entry foyer and joined them in the reading area. She sat down and said, “The person who was taken into custody today was a Stillian.”

Bryson’s back straightened. “Friend or foe?”

“I believe a friend,” she said. “He was a childhood friend of Mother, and he helped both of us the night of our grandmother’s murder.”

“If he’s close to Mom, then why is he a friend? Mom is against us,” Bryson said.

“He can convince her otherwise. He believes she’s fighting on the wrong side, and he wants to change that. He thinks if we can cure her dad of his paralysis, it would negate her ill-will toward the Intel Kingdom.”

Bryson balked. “And how do we manage that?”

“There is a way. We have someone who can heal Gennaio. We’d have to enter the Still Kingdom and access Kindoliya by way of the Diamond Sea. I’ve done this once before when there wasn’t an ongoing war, and that proved difficult enough. This won’t be easy.”

Bryson found himself smiling for a couple of reasons. One, this was an opportunity for action. Two, he wanted to see the Still Kingdom, visit its capital, and make amends with his mom.

“Let’s do it.” Bryson turned to Toshik, who hadn’t moved at all. “You in, Toshik?”

“Will there be opposition to lay waste to?”

“I’d be remiss if I pretended there wouldn’t be conflict,” Olivia admitted. “I’m sure, somewhere along the way, we’ll have to fight—possibly near the teleplatforms. Either way, it’s possible that circumstances go south and Mother doesn’t respond how we envision.” She paused before adding, “This could make the rift between us and Mom worse, Bryson. And this is a highly dangerous mission, for we’d be walking straight into enemy territory without concealment.”

Bryson stared emptily into the distance, a grin still planted on his face. “We’re doing this. This is why we’re Jestivan.”