Vedek

When they reached the entrance to the Dusted Quarter the group split in two. Rerume left with the Lion’s Claw for their headquarters. The story of what had happened in Sráid had phased him none. The only thing that brought any change in expression was Odile’s virulent description of Kelmin and the Order of Suffering. At first Vedek was concerned about how the Lion’s Claw would react, but Dirk confirmed that they were no ally to Ghetsis Reballo.

“That man is a shame to any veteran that fought in the Teotl Reclamation. Just what did he think we were fighting against in that war? The Teotl would’ve seen us all driven under their heel once more for the crime of not being born a Teotl. Disgusting.”

“D-don’t fo-forget the part ab-out eating us.” Trub remarked.

That was enough for Odile and Onakie to trust the group. Vedek supposed Dirk truly was a dwarf of noblest intent. Lyn immediately doted on Odile with the energy of an elder sister. The only one who was silent was Lyr, but that was his nature. With they Lion’s Claw their group doubled and it was easier for them to blend in with the other packs of mismatched mercenaries around Spiral City. The Dusted Quarter lacked suspicious eyes just as Onakie had promised. In fact, it seemed lacking in any official presence from any of the other Clash entrants or the Red Watchmen. It felt safe for their groups to divide as they had.

Just before that happened, Rerume drew close to Vedek. “Sráid’s affairs matter not to me. Finish your duty here, then come to the necromancer’s lair so I may finish mine.”

He cast a glance to Frost and Azeroth. The phantom of a curled lip twitched on his face. “Find the boy if you must, but I doubt he will be needed for this.”

That was all he said. Vedek had nothing to respond with. Rerume’s coarse attitude was a byproduct of his journey to Spiral City. Perhaps once the necromancer Corban was slain he would relax his gaze.

Tauren Row lay directly west of the Dusted Quarter, near the foundries. At least, Onakie hoped it did. She had never visited that section of the city herself, and with how the city was rearranged for the Emperor’s Clash it was hard to guess where anything was. Vedek was slightly optimistic. In a city so crowded and chaotic they would possibly go unnoticed. That belief was shattered within moments of crossing deeper into the Dusted Quarter.

“Ooo! A greenskin!”

The observation came from a booth assembled out of debris. The only attendant was a diablan with blue horns applying face paint to herself. She divided her attention between the shattered mirror in front of her, and Vedek’s group.

“Could you not call that out?” Azeroth demanded with a tired scowl.

“Sorry! Couldn’t help but say it. Did you kill the King of Sráid?” The diablan painted purple stars under her eyes.

Onakie banged her palm on the counter. The sudden sound made the diablan squeak and jump back.

“Who are you?” The minotauress inquired.

“Jayjay is what I’m called. It's not my name, but its what I’m called.” The girl returned to her painting. Vedek found his attention drawn to her lips. She would absentmindedly pucker them when not talking.

“She smells like...many things, and many people.” Frost brushed his nose as he turned away from her.

“I don’t care about Sráid. Just curious. Just gossip.” Jayjay set the brush down, understanding the situation she had created.

Onakie and Odile hid their displeasure at her comment. Onakie reiterated they needed to get to Tauren Row. As they turned to leave Jayjay threw herself across the counter to grab Azeroth’s arm. “Hold it! You’re just gonna walk down the street in broad daylight looking like that?”

“I always look like this.” Azeroth pulled from her grasp easily. She left streaks of paint on his arm.

“-And that’s a problem. There’s a thin blue and white line from here all the way to Tauren Row.”

Onakie snarled while Azeroth grimaced. Vedek searched for the Lion’s Claw, but they had already departed the area. Odile approached the counter, her shoulders just barely reaching above it. “Tauren Row is where we need to go. Can you help us?”

Jayjay fell to her knees so she could be eye-level with Odile. “You are cute. Have any of you heard of The Masked Ones?”

There was a collective shaking of heads. Jayjay beamed again. “They’re a group here for the Clash. A secret group from parts unknown made of elite warriors that walk the streets in black cloaks and white masks.”

She reached under her counter and produced two such masks. “—At least that’s the rumor we’ve spread around. There’s no such thing, but people believe it. Means anyone can walk around in the right outfit and not get hassled.”

“Clever.” Vedek remarked.

“Thanks. It was my idea.” Jayjay winked at him.

When Azeroth reached for the mask she quickly withdrew it. “Three silver. These aren’t cheap and my King needs all the funds he can get.”

Vedek hissed between his teeth. Three silver was a lot when they still had no guarantee of future income. A small finger poked his lower back. He pivoted hard, ready to fight or flee. It was a hob. Not a duende, but a hob from Fae’Riam. He squinted at Vedek, eyes alternating from him to the sheet of parchment he was holding.

“Could you cover the bottom of your face for me?” The hob asked.

Vedek was so baffled by the request that he did it without question. The hob had other sheets of parchment rolled up in his hand.

“Who are you?” Onakie threw her arm between Vedek and the hob.

“That’s Pallet. He’s harmless.” Jayjay answered from her booth.

“Harmless as I want to be.” Pallet instinctively answered. “How’s the Bandit King, Jayjay?”

“Sleeping. Had a long, rough night.” Jayjay was back to painting her face. “How’s your sister?”

“Still no letter. I liked the yellow paint on your face better.” Pallet responded. His eyes perked up to Vedek. “Yep. You’re who we’re looking for. Obviously your friend was expecting you to have the face gear.”

Pallet flipped the page to reveal a sketching of Vedek wearing a bandanna. In the margin was the name Bréag. He revealed to also have sketches of Frost and Azeroth, both of whom were appreciating the details of the work. Frost had never seen himself drawn before.

“Looking to join the Masked Ones?” Pallet caught sight of the costumes on the counter.

“Just Azeroth.” Frost ignored the slap Azeroth gave for using his real name. “It would be useful for him, but we don’t have the money for it.”

Without a word Pallet produced a small bag of coins from his sleeve pocket. “This cover it, Jayjay?”

Jayjay made a satisfied nod. The detail on her face paint was impressive. “Sorry you could never get one for your diablan. Horns like his are hard to hide.”

She produced a felt cloak in Azeroth’s size paired with a mask of a cactus with a face. Frost looked in wonder at Pallet’s generosity. He spun when Jayjay jabbed him with a costume of his own.

“I don’t need this...” Frost frowned.

“Better safe than sorry.” Jayjay sweetly shrugged. “I’d hate for that rugged face to be beaten and bloodied.”

“Impossible.’ Frost replied blankly. “I’m much stronger now. If someone were to attack me I’d defeat them soundly.”

Subtly as he could, Vedek retrieved the mask. If Frost wouldn’t accept it, than he certainly would. He had grown more used to his face being out in the open, but that was amongst friends. Paranoia still gripped him when he thought of being in a crowd of suspicious eyes.

Pallet pulled a thick golden coin from his pocket, which he rubbed between finger and thumb as he talked. “Cole's been worried quite a bit about you. Just about begged me to keep an eye out while I ran my errands. The lad drafted those up last night so we could identify ya. Though he neglected to make portraits of the child and the lady.”

Onakie had been focusing on the area around them. The original plan was to enter the city at dawn and make it to Tauren Row before the crowds set up, but their various delays with the zombies, the Lion’s Claw, and now this had cost them. She directed the group to move away from Jayjay’s gossip hungry ears.

“He couldn’t have known we’d be with them.”

“No he couldn’t. You’re the one-horned Keeper of the Ruaidrí, which makes her the Princess of Sráid.” Pallet pointed his coin at the pair. He showed his palms when Onakie glared at him. “Dress her down all you want. No one has eyes like hers. Those who know, know.”

He said that like it was a simple enough explanation. Vedek thought about his own eyes and put the white mask on. In solidarity, Azeroth did the same.

Their group of six moved slowly through the Dusted Quarter. Pallet offered nothing about himself, nor did he ask any more questions than he had at the city’s entrance. He only remarked: “Poor time to be on the run.”

“Azeroth is innocent!” Frost declared before exclaiming in pain from Azeroth kicking him.

“I believe you, so does Cole, by the way. As soon as I learned the Order was the primary accuser I knew it was bunk. A group like that holds a big fancy shield with one hand so you don’t notice they’re picking your pocket with the other.”

Pallet redirected their path. Their intended street had erupted into a brawl between three factions of Clash entrants. Red Watchmen were swarming the area to blockade the conflict from reaching the public. There was a plume of fire as two coatlmade clashed their breaths. Weapons were drawn and blood stained the ground. It looked like anarchy unfitting for a capital, yet people continued with their business once they were clear of the violence. The juxtaposition caused Vedek to pause and survey every detail.

“How many militia are competing in the Clash?” Vedek asked Pallet once he rejoined the group.

“There were sixty original entrants. That has been reduced to thirty-two. Some only enter as a show of confidence, then quietly pull away once they see the scale of their competition. The Clash is open to any who can field the ten soldiers required. There are old dwarves who tell of Clashes that lasted months due to the high number of entrants.”

“Do they all fight at once?” Frost kept cocking his head in the direction of the brawl.

“No no. The Red Colosseum will be the venue for the battle. A tournament bracket held in rapid succession.”

On a passing wall was a poster depicting a caricature of a diablan with a posted bounty. Vedek noticed the mark of the Order of Suffering in the corner. Azeroth’s calloused hand casually removed the poster. As they continued to walk bits of shredded paper fell from beneath the orc’s cloak.

Vedek heard more commotion ahead of them. A crowd had gathered in connecting alleys to a wider street. The street itself was clogged at both ends. Directly in front of them was a collection of Order soldiers. They were linked tight with heater shields forming a wall of cut palms. Beyond them stood a herd of minotaurs likewise steeled for conflict. The minotaurs were less equipped than their opposition. Some wielded imposing weapons or wore weathered armor, but most were dressed as civilians. Neither side was communicating with the other, but jeers from the observing crowd stretched the tension of the standoff thinner.

“You really mean to contain us here?” One of the minotaurs stepped from the crowd. He was a head taller than his brethren. His eyes were tired, but fierce as he stared down the Order. His padded armor was a patchwork of sections that had been damaged and mended with different materials. His minotaur brethren all looked to him as a leader.

“Thezzus?” Onakie straightened her back to better look over the crowd.

From the Order side of the blockade came a coatlmade Vedek recognized. Zam had dressed himself in a fresh set of polished armor complete with a custom morion helm that accommodated his plumage. He pointed his dosmanos to the opposing crowd. “Beasts should stay in their pen.”

A stone flew from the minotaur side. Zam batted it away with his blade. He gnashed his pointed teeth. “Hate filled monsters. You’ll ruin this city just like you ruined Finis.”

“I could say the same to you.” Thezzus retorted. He spat a yellow glob at his hooves. “Your man isn’t Emperor yet. Retreat your soldiers. We have children back here.”

Zam shook his head gently. Words slithered from his mouth as if in a daze. “And that is supposed to stay my blade?”

That muted statement sent a ripple across the crowd. Some that had been jeering the minotaurs turned to the Order with confusion. Behind him Vedek heard Azeroth aggressively crack his knuckles. Frost was looking for the shortest path to put himself in the barren divide between the two sides.

A figure broke from the crowd. They did not belong to this conflict yet they ran right to Zam, arms flailing and eyes screaming urgency. “Zam! Zam! There’s been an incident on the south side. Ghetsis needs you!”

The prior tension died with a whimper. Zam gaped at the youth who pulled on his arm. Thezzus was likewise baffled by this development.

“Is that-?” Azeroth began the question but Frost finished it.

“Cole!”

Vedek was surprised he was the last to recognize the boy. Cole seemed older. Perhaps it was the beard.

“What is it Ghetsis needs?” Zam pulled his arm free from Cole’s frenetic grip.

“An infernal diablan has gone mad. I ran as fast as I could, but who knows how far the carnage has grown!”

All gathered, the minotaurs, the Order, the civilian crowd, and even those of Vedek’s group, turned their attention to the south side of the city. Expressions ranged from further confusion to convicted worry. Vedek didn’t know what to believe. Zam rapidly parsed the spectrum between several times over. The Order members behind him started uncomfortably shifting in the direction of the supposed chaos.

Cole bit his lip. Re-doubling his panic he slapped the emblem on the nearest Order shield. “What are you waiting for, does this symbol mean nothing?”

Zam partly snarled, but he commanded his forces to follow his lead all the same. He continued to dart looks to Thezzus and Cole, though he never stopped marching.

As the Order left, so did the crowd. Dispersing little by little to catch sight of whatever was unfolding half the city away, or to return to whatever business this had interrupted. In the end the only clustered groups were Vedek’s group of six, Thezzus’ people, and Cole.

“I am utterly shocked that worked.” Cole proclaimed. He bent over to breathe out his anxiety. When he stood straight it was in time to be seized in a hug by Frost.

“My friend! You are alive and as powerful with words as ever.”

Frost would not relent his grip until Cole had hugged him back as tightly. The boy’s eyes glittered with joy as they fell upon Azeroth and Vedek in turn, both of whom had lifted their masks for him to see. When he saw Onakie and Odile, that joy turned to concern. He pulled away from Frost and sighed.

“Something tells me you have a story to share...and based on what I’ve heard, I’d very much like to hear it.”

He was looking at Azeroth. The orc grimaced and replaced his mask. Cole reacquainted himself with Odile, extending his hand for her to shake. Onakie cut her own introductions short. The ash minotaur Thezzus was approaching their group. He regarded Onakie like a cryptid. Something he had to approach or else he would never know if it was real.

“Miss Karnataka?”

It took Onakie a moment to parse what to say. “Hello Thezzus. How have you been settling?”

Thezzus chuckled bitterly. “If you saw that exchange then you have a decent summary. I suppose I played up our contentment in my letters. We’ve been surviving. The Clash has been a good source of income for our veterans. We outsource our strength to the different companies looking for naturally strong fighters.”

“It’s a fight to the death Thezzus.” Onakie said flatly.

Thezzus shrugged. “So is the rest of life.”

“Why not enter yourself to the Clash?” Frost asked. He was impressed with Thezzus the same way he had been impressed the first time seeing Onakie.

“Why bring that scrutiny on us? We lost the war in Finis. Survival here is all we can obtain. You saw how the people egged on the Order. How could they ever accept a ruler from us?”

"If they wanted a ruler easily accept, they wouldn't wager the throne through bloodsport." Cole mused

Thezzus bit his tongue. For a moment he wouldn’t meet Onakie’s eyes. “Miss Karnataka...your father is missing. Has been for a month. He vanished outside the walls of the city. I’ve been leading the herd since. I’m sorry you’re only hearing this now. I-I didn’t know how to put it in a letter.”

Onakie looked like she hadn’t properly heard what he said. She fixated on Thezzus, but said nothing immediate. “I had suspected...something like that.”

She put the thought aside. Taking Odile’s hand, she began explaining the situation and how she needed Thezzus’ help. Vedek turned his attention away from this moment that didn’t involve him. Cole welcomed Vedek with a firm handshake. Looking at him now, Vedek felt he could confidently put the boy’s age at least under twenty-five. Cole spoke in high spirits and laughed more than typical. He had the manners of a man receiving good news after a rash of misfortunes. Vedek supposed he was the same way.

“The Lion’s Claw will be with us as well?” Cole’s excitement doubled after hearing the news of who they had arrived with. “Nine warriors of virtue against a vile defiler of death! I’d be ashamed not to be part of such a proper adventure.”

Their conversation came under the tall shadow of Thezzus. “You mentioned a necromancer, and the Lion’s Claw?”

“Er, yes.” Cole stood straight when speaking to the minotaur. “I may have to derelict my duties tomorrow, a prior promise I must keep. Are you familiar with the Lion’s Claw?”

“Fern's heard their name mentioned around the city. A group noble in the way the Order of Suffering wishes they were. You’re aiding them in purging a necromancer?”

Cole nodded. His expression suddenly became suspicious. “Would you like to come with us, sir?”

Thezzus looked back to Onakie and Odile. Pallet was entertaining the two of them by juggling three coins with one hand. “If I did, it would be more than just me. It would be good for our reputation here if more molochans were seen in the company of heroes. It would certainly reduce the number of spectators when the Order comes to harass us. Yes. I think I will join in this crusade.”

Cole seemed like he might pass out from smiling. It was infectious and Vedek allowed himself a small smile of his own. To ease the moment the elden king gestured to his exposed chin.

“By the way, this is what the lower half of my face looks like.”