Chapter 12 Those who escape danger in fear are cowards. Those who escape danger in fear of what they lose, are survivors.

“The only one willing to follow through with their words was Hazel. Not bad, not bad.”

I nodded in approval and sheathed my hand into my pocket. Milking this scene any longer won’t have any positive effect, so it’s time to end it and reflect.

“At ease. Let them go.”

The two JanZe unmasked themselves, unveiling their faces to the others. The male’s ribbon reached near his calves, whereas the female’s ran all the way to her knees. They were of similar height to one another, about a head-and-a-half taller than myself.

The man shooed away Tony and Sasha, who were still confused and terrified, as if chasing away flies. The woman took out a book from her waist pouch, completely disregarding the others.

“Alrightie then. Since you’re still my student for the rest of the night, I’ll ask you a few questions. What will you do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you probably can’t go back to QPCS anymore. I may have let them off scot-free because the victim didn’t want to press charges, but after they find out you allowed two attempted murders to be swept under the rug, knowing their strict rules, they wouldn’t allow you to return.”

“That isn’t my fault!”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters most to ourselves are the factors and the process. What matters the most to other people, are the results and the consequences. They don’t care how it happened, they only care that it did.”

“They should!”

“Do you truly believe that?”

“I–“

“Why did your mother move you and your siblings around so much?”

Silence.

“Did you never stopped to ponder, that if you tried to find out why it happened, you could’ve spared your siblings the sufferings they had?”

“It’s… I… I don’t…”

“Nobody expected you to do so. It’s natural to try and put it out of mind, to deal with things that have happened, rather than digging into previous wounds. Similarly, rather than to find out what happened here, it’s easier to simply expel you. It’s not much of a loss to the QPCS.”

Hazel fell to her knees, crying without a care. The temptation to simply give up was simply too tantalizing to resist.

But she won’t. She’s not that weak. I gave her a few minutes to herself, before pitching my sale.

“Do you truly believe that people should care about the history, the reasonings and the process?”

She nodded, or at least I assumed she did. It’s rather difficult to be certain considering she’s shaking from her tears.

“Because if you do, you better go through with it. It’s a long, arduous road.”

I sat down on the ground and gave her more time. Slightly more than 22 minutes later, she looked up.

“I… want answers.”

“What will you do now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hmm… hmph… hmpha ha ha hahaha! That’s a bit ironic isn’t it? Hahaha! Good! If you want answers, that’s good. Since you’re my student for the night, I’ll let you know this.

If you want my answers, I can give it to you, but I won’t. Because that’s not something I want to do.

If you want your own answers, I can give you a hand, and I will. Because that’s something I want to see.

For us Four, we don’t need blind brawn pawns fawning over our strength. We need helpers. We need people who can think for themselves, get strong by themselves and do their diligence.

If you’re willing to give your life, then I’ll teach you the only few things I can. How to be strong and how to survive. You’ll need strength and time to find answers for yourself. What do you say?”

5 minutes. It took 5 minutes for her to sell her soul.

“Please teach me.”

“Great to hear, glad to have you on board. You are now one of my disciples. Remember, there’s a clear difference between a disciple of The Four, and a normal JanZe disciple.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Taku, ask your question.”

“… If you wanted people to think for themselves, then why would wearing the mask be part of the JanZe?”

“Hazel, the first thing to do when you want answers, is to ask questions. Not just any questions, but good ones. As for your question – what we want is different to what the world needs. We want people who can think for themselves, but the world needs people who can follow our fucking orders and protect people from monsters. Frankly speaking, the more leaders in a species, the more problematic it becomes for nature.”

“Doesn’t that mean all the JanZe are slaves for you four to order around?”

“Taku. Whether or not a million, a billion or all inhabitants of Khondour dies, the four of us will live on. We, too, have our own agendas. We don’t need idiots to do what we can do ourselves. We need people who can do things we can’t, to think of ideas we can’t, to achieve things we can’t. The JanZe is a tool for us to sieve through potentials, but more importantly, a protection to the rest of Khondour.”

“That’s psychopathic.”

“It’s reality. We can’t help being… well, beings outside the realm of Khondourians. People call us monsters, yet expect us to treat others like we’re humans, it’s really confusing… or maybe it isn’t. Anyways, when we’re not around, the highest ranking JanZe will take the role of decision making. You’re still an apprentice, so if you want to be in control, better claw your way up.”

“And is it possible for anyone to get to the same rank as you four?”

“Are you willing to enter the rifts like we do?”

“… No.”

“Ask us again after you return from it alive.”

I turned my attention back to Hazel.

“Being our disciples require a whole different level of commitment, because our expectations are different. Our goals are different to the JanZe. We train you, not to die for the cause, but to survive to the very end by any means.”

With that, our night was over. There was nothing more to do here.

“This place is unfit for a group of JanZe to squat around. Let’s go. Dulam, lead them to Ambrosia.”

The group left, starting with the male JanZe Dulam, the female Vicky, Taku, Kelvin and Amelia. I was next, but before I left:

“Take as long as you need. I’ll be outside. You’ll be travelling a lot now. You’ll meet a lot of new people. You’ll visit a lot of new places. You’ll question a lot of new ideas. But when you need a bit of familiarity, a home, we’ll be there for you.”

I left the haunted house, leaving behind the wailing cry of a girly ghost. The skies were clouded but refused to rain, as if unwilling to give up its water and its presence.

An hour later, when the night has fully fallen, the ghost finally ascended. Hazel, now a JanZe apprentice, walked out in her uniform with reddened, but dry eyes.

“I’m ready.”

“That’s not how you tie the ribbon. You’re going to trip.”

10 silver entrance fee. The price range of dishes vary from 1 silver, to 5 gold. Such extortionate prices would’ve raised all manners of hell even amongst the wealthiest merchant, but all was normal as this was Ambrosia.

The aroma and appearance as you walk in was as extravagant as you’d imagine. For every three guests in a group, a specialised waiter or waitress was assigned. Their training included a strict regimen of etiquette, literature and culinary science. They bowed to a specific degree, spoke in a calculated tone and served with a purposeful poise. It mattered not if you were a commoner or a noble, a human or a different race. So long as you have the coin to pay, the night of illusionary bliss, where you are treated as the divine, will be yours to experience.

Obviously, the guests are expected to behave in a certain manner too. Though they could be as casual as they’d like, or as reserved as they pleased, this is, in the end, a restaurant. If anyone wanted to bite something other than meat on a plate, to satisfy a different hunger… well, one should never spoil the food of the gods.

The time was past 10pm. It was unlikely a new group would enter the restaurant at this time, and rarer still to receive a single individual as their customer. Most staff were preparing for the next day, whilst the others continued to serve the remaining four tables of guests. Tonight, was different.

A group of important guests came, and they drew the attention of everyone immediately.

The cooks lit their fires once again, veteran experts of their field, ready to battle the unexpected newcomers. The head chef ached at the most irritable order a chef can get. The customers were hungry, and they asked for anything.

Nevertheless, the reputation of Ambrosia reflects the abilities of the staff. As the group of 5 sat on the round table set for 7, with one waiter or waitress each at attention to their needs, ten platters of cuisine made for sharing was placed upon the middle, on top of a revolving crystal[1].

Like the resume of a legendary chef, various seafood, meat and vegetables, paired with a rainbow of sauces either within the dish, or on a different bowl, all glimmered like jewels upon a sea of gold. Some were prepared raw, some seared, some steamed, some grilled. A few dishes were presented as simple and pure as possible, highlighting the natural beauty of the ingredient. Others were dressed in an artistic manner, exuding the sense of skill and purpose, seemingly too precious to break apart and eat.

The taste, I’ll leave to your imaginations.

When Hazel and I entered their premise, we were greeted at the entrance by a man and two women, one of which introduced herself as the manager.

Having never been into such a fancy establishment before, Hazel felt frightened by the glimmer and glamour. She was afraid of dirtying the carpets with her shoes, of disrupting the background jazz with the sound of her breath. As we were being led to our table, she moved like a suffocated penguin.

Extremely, extravagantly, excessively expensive.

Completely at contrast to the circumstances inside our private room.

When the manager invited us in, we were treated to a heart-warming scene.

Vicky sat to the right of Amelia and Kelvin, her book in hand and discussing about the fantasy world of the fictional novel she’s reading, much to the twin’s interest. Their plates were empty, with the fork and knife placed in an inverted V shape. Their little bubble of peace and cleanliness was like an oasis at the middle of a desert.

The ten dishes were not enough to satisfy the two barbarians known as Taku and Dulam. Taku had an entire lamb leg in his mouth, gnawing at the meaty bone with a feral fierceness. Dulam, on the other hand, ate with a knife and fork, but at an absolutely ridiculous speed. There were visible bite marks on both of his utensils.

I gave the manager an appreciative and apologetic nod, before indicating a place for Hazel to sit. Afterwards, I leaned forward to whisper a request to the manager, who promptly left to inform the chefs.

The room was soon filled with lawless behaviour and laughing bystanders. Not just the seven of us, but the waiters and waitresses who agreed to stay and tend to our evening, also shared their stories and jokes.

Then, the door opened once more, and a truly massive sponge cake was brought in.

We sang Happy Birthday for a brief moment, and dove into the cake like a drunkard with his favourite wine.

[1] Also known as a Lazy Susan. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lazy_Susan