CHAPTER 24

Albright Stadium

A painter who only employs hard brushstrokes is limited. One must utilize soft lines so the bold strokes can have the desired impact. So it is with the Grievar, who must employ both the hard and soft in their movements. One who only applies rigid pressure will be severely limited. It is the combination of soft feints and bold direct attacks that will create the conditions for victory.

Passage Two, Fifty-Sixth Technique of the Combat Codes

Sol had visited numerous arenas across Ezo to watch her father fight. Some were state-of-the-art facilities, polished and furnished comfortably to suit the Daimyo spectators in their luxury boxes. Some were bare-bones fighting pits where Grunts packed in like livestock to drink and wager.

But none were like Albright Stadium, the home of the Citadel, where Artemis Halberd had fought most of his matches. To Sol, stepping inside Albright was stepping into a second home, smelling the sizzlers in the outer causeways and going chest-to-back within the dense crowds as they filtered to the stands.

Cego sat down beside Sol on the floor in the crowded staging space beneath the arena. The Whelps, along with nearly the entire Lyceum student body, had filtered in the back entrance to the stadium before dawn.

On their way in, they’d stared in awe at the Flux army, nearly five thousand camped in the tent city outside of Albright. The force had come alive with the rising sun, Grievar- and Grunt-kin mobilizing to take to the stands, hundreds of roosted rocs screeching as the smell of sizzling breakfast wafted to their beaks.

“You all right?” Cego asked. “You look like you’re someplace else.”

“I’m usually the one asking you that exact same thing,” Sol replied.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Cego said.

Sol wasn’t worried about her own fate. She knew her past would be coming to find her at some point and was almost glad that the issue had been forced. She was half-Grievar, half-Daimyo, caught between two forces that had crashed together like fire and ice.

She had no allegiance to the Daimyo. She knew how cruel their kind could be; she’d served under Lord Cantino and seen the true order of the world.

And yet, if the Flux prevailed, Sol knew eventually she would be weeded out. She couldn’t continue to live a lie and hide from her past.

“Let’s go back to the Western Sea after all this,” Sol said. “I liked it there.”

“Okay,” Cego replied, meeting her eyes. “I did too.”

“You promise we’ll go?”

Cego was quiet for a moment. “Yes, I promise.”

“What’re we promising now?” Dozer sat down between the two, putting his arms around both. “That you two are going to take me out for a real meal soon as we get out of here? Murray used to tell me the sauced stew in Karsh is bang-up.”

“He told me about that place too.” Brynn emerged from the mass of students, many warming up for their upcoming matches. “Spirits be said, no vat-meats for me, but I could have some of that sponge bread if they serve it.”

“Ah, yes.” Abel smiled from his seat against the wall. “Maybe they make bread like my sister used to, best when it’s just out of stone oven.”

“Yeah, we’ll go there,” Sol said, putting her head on Dozer’s shoulder fondly. This was her family; she’d do anything for them.

“White skins be up first?” Knees asked, calmly munching on a crisp fruit. “Can’t imagine stepping out to Albright Stadium for my first finals.”

“Me either,” Sol said as she watched a team of Level One students pass by, staring wide-eyed and nervous. She wanted to comfort them, let them know it’d be okay. But it wouldn’t do them much good and she hated to lie.

“Think he’s already in there?” Dozer asked.

“Who, Slayer?” Knees said.

“Yeah… I mean, main event isn’t until after the Lyceum matches finish off, but I wonder if he’ll be watching,” Dozer said.

Sol shivered, thinking of Silas and Wraith and even N’auri watching her match. Though the singular purpose of the event was to pit the Slayer against the Knights’ team, there would be a host of other matches prior to the main event. The rumor was that Silas himself had demanded a spectacle, a show like none other: First the Lyceum would have their expedited finals challenges, before select top students would face off against Grievar from the incoming Flux forces.

Though Sol had only met Silas a few times, she felt she knew the man. He was nothing like Cego. Silas was full of hate and spite. He wanted to embarrass the Citadel on all levels; not only show that he could take on a nation’s entire team of Knights himself, but also display the superior prowess of the rebels he’d trained.

But Sol couldn’t worry about who was viewing from the stands. She needed to focus on the person who would stand in the Circle across from her: Kōri Shimo. He had the second-highest Level Three individual score, and Sol currently held the edge for top spot.

Whatever occurred after she fought, she had no control over it. But she had control of what happened within the Circle. She’d put in years of training to sharpen her body into a fine blade. She had the control to finally avenge her loss to Shimo in Venturi.

“Silas has got no chance,” Dozer mused. “I mean, I know Silas is… the Slayer. I know he took Murray out, even. But who could stand up to six elite Knights in a row?”

Dozer looked to Cego for some response, but he was quiet.

“Anything is possible,” Sol said. “You’ve seen Silas fight. You know he’s different.”

“Right… the blacklight and all,” Dozer said. “Fist is a fist, though. I think we’ll be okay.”

“And if Silas wins?” Abel asked. “What then?”

“He can’t win,” Cego spoke, returned from some other world. “If Silas wins, he’ll take the Lyceum. He’ll find Xenalia and Zyleth. And…”

Cego looked at Sol.

“He’ll kill them all. We can’t let him win.”

“But it’s not us that will decide it,” Sol said, putting her hand on Cego’s shoulder. “I know he’s your brother, but it won’t be you who is fighting him in the Circle today. You can’t carry this burden. It’s up to the Knights now.”

Cego was silent again.

Cego walked beside his fellow Lyceum students down Halberd’s Hall. He watched the spectrals slip between the cluttered bodies in front of him, wafting to the great gate and sneaking through the little cracks toward the horde of light within the arena beyond.

None of these students had thought they would walk Halberd’s Hall so early, not until they had graduated as Knights of the Citadel. Not until they’d taken their oaths to Ezo, vowed to protect the nation from threats outside and within.

“I can hear it,” Dozer whispered, in awe of the moment. “I can hear them calling us.”

Cego could remember Dozer years before in the Deep, a slave Circle boy saying he was going to be a Knight someday, saying he was going to fight in Albright Stadium.

And now his big friend would get his chance; they’d all get their chance. But it was not what they’d imagined—it was more. Not only would they fight before the citizens of Ezo, before the fans of the Citadel and the Daimyo lords. They would fight before the Flux army, occupying one side of the stadium, ready to assume control.

Cego put his hands on Dozer’s shoulders as they shuffled forward behind the rest of the Level Threes. The upper-class students stood up front against the giant gate, waiting for it to lift and let them enter the arena.

“This be your father’s hall,” Knees said to Sol as he ran his fingers along the sigils set on the stone walls. “It be an honor to walk beside a real Halberd.”

“Thank you, Knees,” Sol replied. “Though it’s my honor to walk with you all. My crew. I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.”

“Honor is mine too.” Abel put his hand on Sol’s shoulder.

“Spirits be with us all,” Brynn said as the stadium called to them even louder.

The gate swished open, and Cego felt the surge of students pushing with eagerness to stand beneath the lights.

“Let’s do this!” Dozer bellowed as he led the Level Threes in a rush toward the gate.

They passed from the dimly lit hall into a bright explosion of light within the arena. The deafening roar of the crowd thundered in their ears. Swarms of spectrals swirled wildly in the open air, congregating around the gleaming Circles. Each Circle rested on an elevated platform, set above a concentric surrounding slope that rose from the arena grounds.

Cego doubted that any of the students had ever trained in Circles of such power, pure elemental alloys that would impart the full effect of their light: the crimson rage of redlight over the rubellium rings, the gaudy glow of greenlight on the emeralyis, the proud shine of bluelight atop the auralite, and the void of blacklight above the onyx.

Even from this distance across the arena, Cego could feel the pull of the blacklight. It was the sister Circle to the one he’d trained in within the catacombs, and it called to him like a siren.

Cego followed the Level Threes to the edge of the arena grounds, where they took seats on the floor along the sidelines. The Whelps were silent, breathless, as they stared up at the massive crowd and flashing lightboards set around the stadium.

One side of the arena housed the Ezonian citizens. The Grunts in the nosebleed sections, certainly drunk already, most uncaring of the historic fate of the matches today, used to being slaves to whoever was in power.

The Daimyo sat up top. Cego could see a lineup of Governance representatives in attendance behind a translucent protective shield. Most notable was the full battalion of Enforcers set in front of the Daimyo officers. The elemental-steeled mechs gleamed against the morning sun.

And the Grievar-kin set at the center, the guardians of the nation, fully aware that the outcome of the day would decide who they would serve the next morning.

Across the arena, another section housed the Flux army, the mass of Grievar and Grunt conscripts who’d come from Kiroth like a wave of destruction, sweeping all in their way to the Deep.

“He’s somewhere up there,” Sol said from beside Cego, mirroring his thoughts, looking up at the Flux.

“Yes,” Cego said. “He’s waiting for me.”

“The entire team of Knights will face him,” Sol said, though Cego could recognize the doubt in her voice as well.

“And they will fall like my Bythardi fists caught in one of your routs,” Cego said, finishing her words. He now fully understood what Silas saw when he fought within the blacklight.

“But if our Knights do fall to him… do you think Governance will so easily relinquish control to Silas?” Sol asked.

“No, that’s what I’m most afraid of,” Cego said. “They will never accept defeat at the hands of a Grievar. They’ll be cornered. And when the bear is cornered, it is most dangerous.”

The megaphone abruptly broke the roar of the crowd.

“Today, we welcome all to Albright Stadium!”

Cego turned back to the Daimyo section again. Of course, they needed that battalion of Enforcers to protect them when a rebel army was stationed across the stadium.

But why were they really there?

If Silas won, he would go after those Governance officials first. Why would they put themselves in such danger, when they could watch the entire ordeal from the comfort of their mansions? It wasn’t like their kind to be brave.

“We are honored to be here on this historic day,” the announcer said. “One where we will hold the Lyceum’s finals challenge within Albright Stadium for the first time, a chance for all to witness the unparalleled skills of the next generation of Grievar.”

A cheer rose from the many students in attendance. Cego shook his head. They didn’t understand why they were there. They were a mere diversion from the main act, their fights a distraction from what mattered.

“We also will have some of our own upper-level Lyceum students facing off in exhibitions against select fighters from our foreign visitors, to display the best of both Ezonian and Kirothian styles and techniques.”

The crowd grew louder as they anticipated what they’d come for.

“And what so many are tuning in from SystemView feeds across the world for… the main event.” The announcer’s voice trembled as he said the words. “The famed Kirothian Knight, Silas the Slayer, is here in attendance!”

The Flux army all stamped their boots against the ground in unison. Albright Stadium shook for their leader.

“The Slayer will match up against the Citadel’s best. A man who was once a Level One at the Lyceum, a man who graduated with top honors to become a Knight of the Citadel. Our homegrown hero, undefeated in over fifty fights, said to be the successor of the famed Artemis Halberd. Our champion, Kal Yang!”

The Ezonian crowd erupted in applause, attempting to drown out the Flux rebels, who were still drumming like thunder.

“How come he didn’t say Silas will be fighting the entire team?” Dozer asked from beside Cego.

“They want to set it up like a normal match for feed viewers ’cross the world,” Knees said. “So, if Yang wins, it will be a true win for Ezo.”

“Now!” the announcer boomed as he waited for the applause to die down. “We will start with our top-performing Level One Lyceum students, the promising talent who only just passed their Trials earlier this year. Though they are young, do not be deceived. These are the brood who will soon carry the torch as Knights of the Citadel!”

The white skins sitting not far from the Whelps warily stood and walked to the center of the gargantuan arena.

“They’re quaking in their boots.” Dozer chuckled.

“Spirits be with them,” Brynn said. “To take on this task at such a young age.”

“I would’ve loved to fight at Albright when I was a Level One,” Dozer said. “Get to show the entire world what I got? Sign me up.”

As the Level Ones paired up in the numerous Circles and readied themselves for the first of the finals matches, Cego’s attention was elsewhere. He couldn’t take his eyes off the Daimyo representatives.

Why were they there?

Murray’s voice whispered in Cego’s mind.

Against an opponent that’s got you on your heels, you got to take some darkin’ risk. You need to make them feel settled, comfortable with the rhythm of the fight, then you throw an unexpected attack to put them down quickly.

Cego thought back to the Flyer squadron they’d seen overhead on the trip to the Western Sea, the mechs landing at the island offshore.

His throat stoppered up, staring at the Governance officials in attendance. They were here to make the Flux feel comfortable, signaling to Silas that they, too, had come to witness the fate of the historic match.

But that was just a feint.

Memnon looked to the bright-eyed boy sitting beside him. Sam was quiet as usual. When he spoke, he spoke only of the island.

Memnon had done this to Sam, helped Governance create the Cradle program. If it were Memnon’s choice, he’d have put the boy down by now, freed him from the deception he was living.

Watch over the kid, no matter what; promise me that.

But Memnon had made an oath to Murray Pearson and he meant to keep it.

“Think I can take Arry up to the ironwood grove today? She’s been wanting to go for a while now,” Sam chimed.

Even now, sitting in the stands of Albright Stadium, a fight for the history books about to take place in front of them, Sam only spoke of the strange, simulated world he was stuck in.

It was probably for the better that the boy didn’t know what was going on here. Memnon wished he didn’t understand half of what he did about how Governance operated.

To Memnon’s left sat High Commander Albright, the wiry man at the edge of his seat.

“Has anyone actually seen Silas inside the arena yet?” Callen asked as he peered through his monocle lens at the Flux army sitting across the stadium. “How do we know he’ll actually show?”

“His whole darkin’ army is here,” Dakar Pugilio said from beside Memnon. “Don’t think he’s the type to not make it to his own party.”

“This isn’t all for him,” Callen said with venom. “We’re showing the citizens of Ezo, the entire world, that we don’t cower to rebel terrorists. We keep living as normal.”

“As normal?” Dakar slugged down his flask. “You mean having the finals in this arena? Or you mean having all our Knights lined up in a row against one man in the Circle?”

Callen shrugged. “That’s insurance. Yang will take this win. Commander Memnon has confidence in his champion, don’t you, Albion?”

Memnon knew he needed to agree. “Yes, Yang is the best we’ve had since Artemis Halberd. And even though Silas beat Halberd… Yang has a completely different style of fight, one far better suited to an opponent like the Slayer.”

“See, Pugilio?” Callen said as he continued to peer through his lens. “Have confidence in your nation.”

“You know what doesn’t give me confidence?” Dakar said. “Those.”

Dakar stood and turned to nod at the entire battalion of Enforcers set in front of the Daimyo section, shimmering beneath the light like watchful deities. “If we’re so confident we’re going to win this, why in the dark do we have half the Ezonian army here with their blasters at full charge?”

“You’re a bit daft to understand proper strategy,” Callen said. “But again, it’s insurance. You never strike without knowing you have a counter. Idiots come to the table with a single strike. Masters have several contingencies prepared.”

Dakar shook his head as he stumbled away down the concrete row. “Maybe I am daft. But I’m smart enough to know I need a refill.”

“And have your masters kept you apprised of all these contingencies, High Commander?” Memnon asked Callen. He noted the Operator sitting in full regalia beside his Governance comrades.

“Of course they have,” Callen said.

“So, what if Silas does manage to get through our Knights?” Memnon asked. “Will they hand the keys to the Citadel over to him?”

Callen turned to Memnon and broke into a crooked smile. He whispered, “Let’s say it’s good that we’re sitting over here and the Flux army is over there.”

Memnon was silent for a moment. He growled under his breath, “You can’t mean it; they mean to betray the pact? Launch a mech offensive on our own grounds?”

Callen brought his face close to Memnon’s. “We have no option but to win here, Commander. We serve Governance, and they have made it clear that no matter how this fight ends, the rebels must be stamped out for all to see.”

“It will be a massacre…” Memnon said. “If they bring in the Flyers, they’ll not only destroy the Flux army but our own citizens. We can’t let that happen.”

“We can and will,” Callen said. “It is our sacred duty to defend our nation from all that threaten us. And make no mistake… we are being threatened. By a man sitting somewhere in those stands. We are to make sure he doesn’t leave here alive, at any cost. It will be for the good of the nation.”

Memnon had heard those words so many times before. At any cost. For the good of the nation. It was the call for sacrifice—the words that forgot honor so that the cogs of the world could continue to turn. Those were the words that started the stim programs, the simulation, the Cradle.

Memnon felt Sam’s presence beside him. The little boy was staring out at the crowd, not even watching the ongoing challenges down below.

“So, that’s why they’re here,” Memnon said. “The Operator and his men. They’re here so that the feeds can display their power to the entire world, show what will happen to those who turn against the Daimyo.”

“It certainly won’t hurt to get them on SystemView,” Callen said. “But the Operator is here to make sure all goes as planned.”

Memnon suddenly remembered the visit from the Operator. “But what if Governance fails?”

Though a massacre of the Flux would be a horrific act, Memnon couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if Silas succeeded. The man was a zealot. How many would die in that scenario?

“What do you mean, fail?” Callen said. “The Operator does not fail.”

“The Hive,” Memnon said through his teeth. “Professor Aon Farstead. He’s locked in the emeralyis cell, but what if the Minders still prevent the attack—shut off those Enforcers before they can do anything? Prevent the Flyer squads from taking off?”

Callen smiled again. “Didn’t I tell you, Commander? We are steps ahead. The Minders won’t cause any problems here.”

“How can you be so sure—”

“The Hives are gone,” Callen said.

“You mean… the one traveling along with the Flux army?” Memnon asked. “Governance was able to destroy it?”

“Yes,” Callen said. “They confirmed it yesterday. And Aon Farstead… he’d already lived a long life.”

“You…” Memnon clenched his teeth, his fists rolled into balls. “You killed Aon?”

“We destroyed the Hive within the Lyceum because it needed to be done for security; we couldn’t be sure the emeralyis would prevent activation at close range,” Callen said. “It was not Aon Farstead, though. As you heard during our command meeting, the professor had left that body long ago.”

Memnon was silent, his body trembling.

He was there again. At the crossroads of duty and honor, serving the whims of powers that did not care for individuals. And though he’d been serving for so long, though he’d been high commander and now led the most powerful Knight team on the planet, he was a pawn. As it had always been.

He felt Sam’s hand on his shoulder, and for a moment, he thought the little boy was attempting to comfort him.

“I’d like to take a swim tonight,” Sam said. “The Path will be bright beneath the full moon, and I’d like to not miss it.”