by Yi Zhu
“I know you, Katherine. I know that just now, when I pulled away, you thought about having my female guest assassinated. Out of nothing but jealousy. You don’t love me, Katherine; you found me to be novel and set on possessing me,” Vince said coldly.
“But I …” Katherine paused. “You know, the pressure of being the Shadow probably got to your head. This isn’t over, Vince; we’ll talk about this again, once your mind is clear.” With that, she stormed out of the building.
With the majority of the Elites seeking his death, Vince needed his allies more than ever. With Zed gone, and Darius occupied with the burdens of rule, it was foolish to antagonize the supreme general’s daughter and second-in-command. Vince silently reprimanded himself.
Why did I do that? There was some truth perhaps in what she said. Maybe the pressure was getting to him. Since the first night they spent together, they had agreed that what went on between them would be purely physical, and that neither would be tied down by the other. Frequently, Katherine would take interest in other men, but despite, or perhaps because of, Vince’s lack of reaction, she always rushed back to his side.
Maybe I just couldn’t live the lie anymore. Maybe it’s because I know deep down, that one day she would stand in the way of my dream.
Vince picked up another plate and began washing.
I just need to focus on staying alive … for two months, then...
Chapter 15: Cause
Six years earlier:
Vince received the summoning notice in the morning. The letter demanded his presence in the Academy tower’s meeting room three. Though normally not one to play by Academy rules, Vince was compelled to obey the words when he heard it was High Ambassador Neal who sought an audience.
Though the Lowborn had never met the man in person, Vince wasn’t going to pass the chance to talk to the Elite whom even Zed held in high esteem. Not after what happened.
And so Vince grabbed his coat, wiped his face clean, and set out toward the tower.
A subtle chilling sensation hit his lips as he passed through the courtyard, and his steps faltered. Blood trickled from his nose, and left an unfortunate splash on his uniform. Quickly, he retrieved a napkin from his pocket, and pressed it up to stem the bleeding.
His body was failing, but Vince wasn’t alarmed. He knew exactly why this was happening, and it was by his own choice. Ever since his alchemy was revealed to the world, the need for the secrecy ended. Though it still made him sick to consume Fye, Vince was happy to pay the price. For each painful aftermath he endured, he got to speak with his friend.
The Academy Physician advised him to stop temporarily for the sake of his health, but Vince didn’t care. To his grief-stricken mind, the choice was an easy one.
“I’ve read the reports; you know that’s bad for you,” a voice flowed out as Vince stepped into the room.
Before him stood a tall man wearing a loose-fitting, outlandishly flamboyant robe. The color pallet employed by the tailor clashed with the room so much that even Vince, someone with no authority regarding fashion, found the outfit outrageous.
But even the terrible style choice wasn’t enough to discredit the figure before him. Though the shiny, well-polished Ivy Sigil commanded sufficient respect all on its own, Vince was more impressed by the extremely muscular frame not even the ostentatious wardrobe could conceal.
“I …” Vince said, “I’m looking for Ambassador Neal?”
“At your service,” the bear of a man replied with a polite bow, and gestured for Vince to shut the door.
The Lowborn quickly obeyed, and resumed his expression of intrigue.
“You seem surprised by me,” Neal began, “Is it the robe? I’m glad you are impressed. I like to dabble in various crafts, and my affinity for fashion took me by surprise as well.”
“No,” Vince replied, and threw the blood-soaked napkin away in a bin. “It’s just that, I was told you were … wider,” he finished, uncomfortably.
Neal scratched his chin thoughtfully, and the look of deep contemplation unsettled Vince somewhat.
“Did Zed tell you that?” Neal asked, and Vince flinched at the mention of the name. “I was sorry to hear about his passing. I know you two were close.”
Close … I guess that’s one way of putting it, Vince thought, and remained silent.
To Vince’s surprise, an expression of guilt appeared on Neal’s face, and the burly man rubbed his own stomach. “It didn’t take much to get back in shape. Not when the life once again possesses purpose.” With that, Neal walked over to the door, and pressed his ears to the wooden surface.
“What happened?” Vince asked, confused.
Neal held up a hand, and Vince fell silent. After a few seconds of listening at the door, Neal nodded his head, satisfied. The big man then took in a deep breath, and summoned Fye. The effect was subtle, but Vince caught the small gleam of alchemical ice plugging the cracks in the doorframe.
“Ah, there you go,” Neal said, satisfied. “Now we can talk in private.”
“Sir?”
“I can’t stay for long without drawing suspicion,” Neal began. “I have a confession to make. As you probably know, I am the one who sent Zed here, to the academy. And in a way, I feel responsible for his death.”
Except it was me who bloodied my hand, Vince wanted to say.
Neal looked at the teenager before him, with dried blood around the nose and wrinkled uniform, and paused in thought. “I had plans for that boy. I had hoped he could graduate from this place, and position himself close to the throne.”
“I’m sorry,” Vince said, because he couldn’t think of any other response.
“So am I. But what I planned wasn’t a power play. At least, it wasn’t for myself,” Neal continued, and paced around the room. “Vince, would you agree that something is terribly wrong with this world?”
Reforge this world, Zed’s voice crept up in the back of Vince’s mind.
“Is this a test?” Vince asked.
“It is a test. I need to know if I can count on you.”
“To do what?”
Neal turned around to face the teenager. “To bring down the Empire.”
Vince stood his ground, and fought hard to appear unfazed. Though Zed had spoken highly of this man before him, Vince had too many questions. He wasn’t even sure the man before him was truly who he claimed to be.
“You are right to be cautious, but what we speak of here, it doesn’t matter. Once we part ways, it will be your word against mine. I can make up anything I want, should I desire it. If I wished you harm, I could come up with the most damning claims,” Neal said, and his mannerisms took a serious turn. “So speak freely, ask me questions, if you like.”
Vince regarded the man before him. “How?”
“Do you know how the last rebellion failed?” Neal said, and offered Vince a seat, which the Lowborn politely declined.
“The rebels never had a chance,” Vince answered. “I’ve read all the records meticulously, and the odds overwhelmingly favored the Imperials. And when the Vowbreaker failed in her mission, Triton massacred the entire zone of S1. That single act broke the rebels’ spirits and ended the rebellion.”
“Ah,” Neal nodded. “You do know your history. Did you know that the Vowbreaker is referred to by another name? ‘Mother,’ they called her down South. And sadly, you are only right about one thing.”
“Which is?”
“The fact that she failed her mission, and that led to the death of thousands,” Neal said gravely. “The rebellion isn’t so easy to kill off. It isn’t only the people in the South who suffer from Imperial rule. You know this to be true, Vince; everything you have survived in life should attest to that fact. Is there a single zone in the Empire where the laws of the Elite left no scars?”
“You are saying the rebellion is coming back?” Vince asked, as his heart beat faster.
Bread… The fragment of a distant memory resurfaced, and hardened Vince’s resolv
e.
“I would very much like to get to know you better, before sharing my plans. But my absence from my post would draw suspicions, so I will just be forward,” Neal replied. “No, it’s not coming back. The rebellion never died.”
“But the last—”
“During the last uprising, the majority of the rebels did not perish, but instead, went into hiding. They were all waiting for the emperor to fall, and the chaos to ensue. But Triton survived, and even wounded, as long as the royal bloodline stands, there can be no revolution,” Neal said grimly.
Vince noted that the large man flinched when he mentioned Triton’s name. But if what Neal said was true …
“If you are anything like your friend,” Neal continued, “you would want the empire to fall. Before you ask me why I am doing this … let’s just say I spent more than ten years living in the South, acting as the ambassador. But my given mission is to hunt, and silence, all who spoke against the crown.”
Vince regarded the ambassador quietly.
“We are not all monsters, Vince. You might hate us, and everything this symbolizes for you.” Neal pointed to his Sigil. “Until I went down South, I just never knew better. For the most of my life, the privilege was just … the way things—”
“It’s okay,” Vince interrupted. “I just have a hard time believing that an Elite would ever give a damn about the lives of those less privileged.”
Neal’s hand twitched subtly, yet Vince took notice. The ambassador closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. For a brief moment, Vince thought the Elite would strike out with alchemy, but when no attack came, he realized the man was simply calming himself.
“Yes, you are right,” Neal said, and shifted around. “I used to deny to myself that a problem even existed. Hell, I was a selfish man, and I took a post down South only for... something I want.”
“And what happened?”
“I saw the way the northern agents treated the people in the South. Subjugation is one thing, but to deny them the right as human beings … Rapes and murders, all done in the name of our empire,” Neal said, while his finger tapped against his leg.
“That’s all it took?” Vince asked coldly, still unconvinced.
“As I walked around, and saw the children in the South, they recoiled as if I were a monster,” Neal snapped, finally raising his voice. “I asked a child why he acted so, only to find out one of my men had taken his sister away. I entered the man’s quarters … and found—”
Without warning, Neal lashed out with his muscular fist, and his hand slammed down onto a wooden desk, breaking through the imperial-quality furniture without difficulty. Silence followed as the ambassador took another deep, calming breath.
“There will come a time,” Neal said, softer, "for people who try to do the right thing against all odds, to make a choice: duty, or your heart. For people like us, there isn’t the luxury to possess both. I chose to fight for the people.”
And I made that same choice, when I turned my alchemy toward my best friend, Vince realized. Who am I to judge this man? “What do I have to do?”
“I came to you because I believe you and I have a lot in common. And I don’t ask this lightly. You have to do what Mother failed to.”
Vince nodded. “Kill the royal family.”
Neal put a hand gently on Vince’s shoulder, and the man looked … full of guilt. “It’s going to be hard. You have to work your way up the system, to get close. Darius trusts you, but Triton and Manus will be difficult to approach. The brothers … they are quite formidable.”
“But first, I have to survive.”
Neal held out a hand. “So you will do it, then?”
Vince grasped the outstretched hand in a firm handshake. “Yes.”
“I will inform the others,” Neal began, but looked away. “I … I had hoped to ask it of Zed one day. But … thank you. I’ll inform the others.”
Vince shook his head. “It stays between us. It is better this way. Maybe, just maybe … fewer people will have to die.”
Chapter 16: Blind spot
Here lies Lucia. Our leader, our sister, our savior. For years, she led us selflessly, and with her dying breath, she proved that loyalty is the true beauty in this forsaken world. For her sacrifice, the Wolf Gang will live on, and preserve all she stood for.
-Etched on a stone slab lined with scorch marks. Retrieved from rubble from Zone 1409.
The summer finally arrived five weeks after Darius’s ascension. For the Elites, it meant the sleeves got shorter and the clothes got looser. For the Highborns, this was the season to stay in and shelter themselves from the sunlight that forced its way through the layers of Fye that carpeted the sky.
Without access to the salve that helped protect the skin, the poor labored away out in the open. For once, they were grateful for the presence of Fye, the very chemical that enabled their oppression.
As Vince walked down the market zone, toward where his orphanage had once stood, he couldn’t help but think about the Southerners who were forced to maintain crops under an unpolluted sky. Years ago, Zed told him that in the southern zones, farm production never stops, and quotas are not up for compromise. You either met the numbers, or faced punishment.
“You just have to wear big hats, and wherever your hat doesn’t cover will stop hurting after a couple days.” Zed’s words came to Vince’s mind as several laborers walked by, with heavy crates tied to their backs, threatening to break bones with every step.
A Sentinel kill team surrounded Vince with a perfect pentagon formation, matching his pace with practiced synchronization. Because of the heat outside, the guardians elected to forgo the cloak, which made their weapons easily accessible and openly intimidating. Though the Sentinels kept their masks on, Vince knew that all the eyes were scanning around, searching for any possible signs of danger. To a civilian, they might as well be walking machines armed to the teeth.
It’s perhaps for the best, Vince thought, as the Lowborns all kept a respectful distance, despite some obviously curious looks toward his entourage.
“X,” Vince called out, and the leading Sentinel fell back to walk beside him. The other four immediately rearranged themselves into a rectangular pattern.
“Yes, my Lord Shadow?” Sentinel X asked, and she reached down to place her hand close to the grapple trigger. “Did you spot something?”
“Relax. I just want to chat.”
“Of course, my lord,” X replied.
“How is Katherine?” Vince asked.
“Our agents check in twice a day, and she’s fine.”
“I see,” Vince said with a frown. It had been a month since she last visited. Ever since that conversation. “Make sure no one else is listening,” he commanded, and the four Sentinels spread out to secure a perimeter. After waiting half a minute, Vince turned to X. “What about Manus’s envoy?”
“They are already being offered lucrative contracts by various Elite factions,” she reported.
Of course, with Manus out of power, the Elite nobles will undoubtedly seek to bolster their own forces. Who better to recruit than members of a Shadow’s envoy? Vince thought grimly, but something was nagging at him still.
“The emperor included?” he asked.
X shook her head. “Getting his own hands dirty would be a sign of weakness, as you are supposed to represent his might. Though a Captain Siera has snatched up the best ones on behalf of Lady Katherine.”
So should I fall, the treacherous factions of the Elite will be goaded into attacking. Then Darius can have Katherine swoop in and root out the bad seeds in a single stroke. Ironically, this plan played perfectly into the chaos the Rebellion was hoping for. Yet Vince couldn’t rejoice at this turn of events. Frustrated, he sat down on top of an empty crate.
“What’s wrong?” X asked, and a hint of concern came across, despite the mask distorting her voice.
Vince closed his eyes and rubbed his temple in thought. “She’s part of this now. For our pl
an to succeed, we have to make sure she doesn’t interfere.”
“It’s not too late to win her back,” X offered.
“That’s the easier way,” Vince said with a sigh. “I can keep close to her, promise her everything, my time, presence … love. And when the time comes, if she stands against me, I will have the upper hand.”
“But?”
“But I don’t want to go through with it, because it is harder on me. Does that make me a coward?”
X regarded him silently.
“There’s the answer, then,” Vince began.
X reached out her hands, and put them around Vince’s cheeks. He looked up at her in surprise. Gently, she stroked his face with her gloved hands, and a calming sensation washed over him.
“No, it doesn’t, it makes you human,” X replied finally. She took his hands and helped him get on his feet. “You have much to do; let’s be on our way.”
An hour later, Vince’s entourage arrived at what had once been the Wolf Gang hideout. Now it stood, a vacant structure, its doors shut with the Shadow’s seal. The building itself had burnt down four years ago, and reconstruction only began after Vince’s graduation from the Academy. To most people, even the Lowborns, the building held little value. It was a simple shelter in the slums, not to mention inside one of the poorest zones.
This is home.
Carefully, Vince ran his fingers along the outer walls, and noted with satisfaction that the paint did not simply rub off at his touch. In areas like this, it had become socially acceptable for contractors to cut corners and use inferior products. But the painter at least did not intend to cross the Lowborn Elite.
“Good times,” Vince said out loud, to no one in particular.
Unbeknownst to all but Vince’s closest friends, this orphanage held another significance. In the tiny backyard, Lucia’s body was laid to well-deserved rest. One day, once the world took a turn for the better, Vince hoped to return here, an old and nameless hermit.
“My lord,” X said, interrupting his daydream, “the seal is broken; someone might be inside.”