Apologies for the super long wait. Things got a bit hectic, and I lost a bit of inspiration for writing thanks to getting caught up in so much assessment. I'm hoping to continue working on this story and hope to get more frequent updates out between now and the end of the year. I intend to finish this story at some point in time, and I look forward to sharing this epic journey with you.

Thanks to James Birdsong for the previous review.

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Chapter Eleven: Truth and Lies

Lee couldn't walk. He didn't even have the strength to form words. Yet despite his deteriorating condition, Rei refused to let him go. He wasn't allowed to die. Not if he still had the ability to breathe. He didn't know how far they had to travel, but the weather had changed. The air was cool, and the wind a menace. It blasted him in the face, biting into the skin, yet he knew they could not stop.

But soon in the distance before the snow-capped mountains, he saw hope. A towering fortress made of blackened stone built into the mountain itself. His new home – somehow, he doubted Tala and his companions would let him escape. Not that he planned too – not until Lee received help for his injuries.

"Welcome to your new home," Tala announced.

"This place will become your graveyard," Bryan added.

Rei kept his jaw tight. All that mattered was helping Lee. Remaining in silence, Rei followed his new companions towards the fortress. There were two watch towers overlooking the barren valley before them. Perfectly positioned to scout trouble miles away, but who would venture this far to attack such a well-defended structure? Squinting ahead, he could vaguely make out several ballistae on the walls and even a catapult on one of the towers.

"I hope your friend makes it, or else the vultures will have him for dinner," Tala said, craning his neck back to look up at the sky.

Rei squinted. He could see a few black dots flying in circles. They were waiting for death. The reapers of the sky. "You said this place was a prison – you are prisoners?"

"You could say that," Tala remarked. "Theft."

Bryan looked away. That didn't seem like the full truth, but Rei didn't push for answers. No further conversation was made. The road to the fortress was a silent one. Conversation was distracting at least – without words, all he could hear was the ragged beaths and soft moans from Lee.

"Garland will probably start you off with something easy. He's not going to send you beyond the walls," Spencer said, looking Rei up and down.

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't think we'd be sitting in cells all day and night long, did you?"

"You work."

Tala nodded. "He believes in redemption. That we can atone for our crimes and become better men. He's not a cruel tyrant. – he doesn't believe in beatings. What good is a broken man to him? So, he allows us to work to better ourselves. We are scouts. We started off as labourers, repairing walls, crafting weapons. I'm sure Garland will tell you all about it."

They continued to walk across the barren land, a biting breeze blowing across the valley. So, Garland wasn't a typical warden. A man who believed in redemption. Sounded like someone the Elder would like to converse with, he thought.

Tala guided them through the black iron gates. "Open up!" he bellowed.

Two men peered down from the wall. "It's Tala! Open the gate!"

Nothing at first, then the iron gate creaked open. Rei didn't even manage to set one foot within the fortress as a crowd of people stood before the entrance. A mixed rabble of people keen to catch a glimpse of the arrivals - he caught one male missing an eye, and another with one arm. Most were not disfigured, but all bore marks of hard work – smudges of dirt on their faces, and torn clothes. Rei did his best to ignore meeting any of their eyes and tried to ignore their words. Still, the wind carried their words to his ears.

"… More food for the dogs."

"… Give them a week."

"… That one there already looks dead. I don't give him much time."

Rei jerked his head towards his right, curling his fingers into fists. A tall black man peered down at him, a vertical scar on his right cheek. "He's not dead. He's not dead!" he repeated.

Bryan grabbed Rei's arm, fingernails digging into his skin. "Watch yourself, Rei," the man whispered into his ear. "Keep talking and you won't live to see the next sun rise."

"I'm not afraid," Rei snarled.

"You wish to fight a mob without any weapons? You're both brave and foolish. Think about what Lee needs."

Rei held back a response, biting down hard on his lower lip. Bryan was right. Fighting would only waste time.

"What is happening here?" a deep voice bellowed.

The chatter died. People in the crowd pulled away back into the shadows of the walls, as if someone had been declared ill with the plague. Shouts had become whispers. Even Bryan and Spencer merged with the crowd. Only Tala stood by Rei's side.

Rei looked ahead. A tall man dressed in silver plate mail walked towards him, a fur black cape draped over his shoulders, the trimming dragging across the ground. A curved silver sword hung at left side, and a smaller knife on his right. Clearly, he was an important figure.

"That's Garland," Tala whispered. "One of the best warriors this world has ever known."

Rei frowned. A great warrior who decided to live in this forlorn place? He remained tight-lipped. In the corners of his eyes, he noticed the locals dropping to their knees, their heads bowed, as if Garland were a king. No one dared to move. Only Lee's pained gasps disturbed the silence.

"Peter, come! Attend to the ill man at once," Garland barked. A tall, lean man with a balding spot at the back of his head, rushed forward. He was dressed in simple brown cloths with a small rope wrapped around his waist. "Tend to him."

The man nodded, draping Lee's left arm around his own shoulder. Ignoring Lee's protests, the doctor carried Lee away from prying eyes.

Rei wanted to follow, but his feet would not move. All he could do was stand in place and watch from afar, and hope Lee would survive the ordeal. But now he had to think about his own survival. Had he given a bad impression to Garland? He remained silent.

"You will follow me. Come," he said.

Tala looked to reply – he opened his mouth, but no words came out – then closed his mouth shut. Piercing blue eyes locked in Rei's direction and the right corner of the boy's mouth curved upwards.

Rei tore his gaze away. He would find no support from Tala, nor from anyone else. Keeping his eyes focused on Garland's back, he followed the commander through the narrow, twisting cobblestone paths covered in patches of snow. Living in the shadow of the mountain made for a dour and unpleasant experience. His new home. A stark contrast to the rich vegetation filled terrain of his birthplace.

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With his bright blue eyes and golden strands of hair, Romero was often regarded as having been made in the image of the gods themselves. It was rare for townsfolk to have such features in their part of the world. Most people had dark features. And so, it was because of his unique features the people decided to appoint them as the leader of Shashara, a remote city in the eastern most part of the region.

He sat atop his golden throne listening to his servant inform him about the status of his kingdom. He stroked his chin softly, before reaching out to his left to grab a silver goblet of wine. Bringing the rim to his lips, he arched his neck back, opened his mouth and let the cold liquid run down his parched throat. Being a lord was not an easy task; every day issues surfaced, so whenever he had the chance to relax, he drunk himself into a stupor.

"The training regimes have increased in intensity," his servant said, kneeling on one knee before his master. "Several men even fainted," he added, glancing up at his master, his long brown bangs falling over his eyes. It was a brief glance - he did not want to stare into the cold blue eyes of their leader for too long. The boy pushed his straight bangs back.

Romero sat back in his chair making himself comfortable, the corners of his mouth curving upwards. "Excellent. The men need to be in perfect health when they march against Madari." The Jewel of the South. The mighty kingdom. The one who sat upon the throne ruled the entire region.

The servant glanced up again, his dark eyes widening. "March against Madari?"

Romero nodded. "Yes, Sampson. The men will march within two months and slaughter every living soul in that kingdom. Emperor Voltaire Hiwatari has ruled for decades yet no improvement has been made. The taxes keep increasing. We must fight back and dethrone the emperor. Let us see if their god protects them." He glanced down at Sampson and noticed the poor boy was trembling. He placed a hand on his head to comfort him. "Do not fear young Sampson. You will not go to war. You will stay here and serve me."

"We do not have enough men to attack Madari," Sampson said.

The smirk on Romero's face widened. "But we will. We will march through the towns and villages and recruit all able men capable of wielding a weapon."

"An uprising. You want the people to rebel."

Romero nodded. The serving boy was more perceptive than he looked. "The emperor is a blathering fool. There are enemy forces beyond the great wall, and the fat man does not seem to acknowledge this threat. But if I claim the throne… I will lead our people to greatness and vanquish our foes. There will be no wild mages. There will be dark forces beyond the mountain pass. There will only be peace."

The servant boy fell silent. Perhaps it was too much information for the boy to understand – after all, he was just a servant. His duties involved assisting him and other high-ranking officials. Matters of economy and military did not mean anything. After a moment's pause, the boy looked up and said, "What of Julia and Raul? If you become the emperor, what happens to them? Do they become the leaders of this city in your place?"

Romero grinned. Julia and Raul – his adopted children. "Julia will come to Madari and a marry a fine man of my choosing. Raul will stay here and lead in my place." Currently, the man showed little ambition in becoming a leader, but he would soon come to understand why he should lead. "He will make a fine leader. Speaking of Raul and Julia, please find them and bring them to me. I would like to speak with them both."

Sampson nodded. "Of course. I will find them at once."

"Good. You may leave." He dismissed the serving boy as if shooing away a fly.

The boy scampered away, and Romero leaned back on his throne, his right leg crossed over the other, arms resting on his lap. The emperor would fall, and he would be the ruler their region needed.

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Monica was showing rapid signs of recovery, but Crusher never left her side, as if he were concerned that she would revert to her former ill state. Brooklyn didn't even try to calm the man's nerves – he was a guest here after all, and he couldn't risk angering Crusher. Not now – not after he had gained the man's trust.

He was currently standing in one of the outposts a short distance from the village. It was situated upon a steep hill, a perfect position to overlook the barren valley. The mountain ranges stretched across the plains their peaks hidden by thick clouds. The border that protected the people from the horrors beyond.

"The Hiwataris believe they own this region," Brooklyn started, drawing an invisible horizontal line in the air. "But they stole the throne from the rightful heir, and now they lord over this land as if they are the true leaders."

"How do you know that?" Crusher said, his arms folded across his chest.

"I'm a priest – we have to study history. Sometimes the history they don't want you to believe."

Crusher did not look convinced. He frowned. "But why would the books contain that information? The emperor makes sure only the truth is told in our books and shared at our temples."

Brooklyn snorted. "And you believe every word preached to you?"

"You're a priest," the large man replied, his thick eyebrows arched.

"And I've seen the truth. The emperor manipulates the sacred texts to fit his own agenda." Brooklyn tightened his jaw, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. The great war. The trial. A slow painful death. He drew in a deep breath. "We should not believe every word given to us. We should question the text. Do you remember who founded this region? The Masefields."

Crusher raised a brow. "The Masefields? I've heard the name before. They were labelled as traitors and nailed to a cross for everyone to see." The man paused then added, "We celebrate the reign of the Hiwataris every year – a reminder that we live safely because of their leadership. You should be careful with your words."

So, a loyalist still, Brooklyn thought, looking up at Crusher with a frown. Despite everything that had happened to the man, he still believed the Hiwataris were the true leaders of their region. His region. It was his birthright. "Did the Hiwataris ever come to your aid when you needed it? Did they help you kill Francesco?"

Crusher shook his head. "No. I escaped on my own. I had to save my sister."

"So, you admit they haven't done anything useful. They failed to keep you safe."

He could see the gears turning in the man's head. That had placed some doubt in his head.

Bringing a hand to his face, Crusher rubbed his chin. With his brows furrowed, Crusher turned to Brooklyn and said, "You can't bring down the emperor. You're a priest."

"You're going to help me."

"I allowed you to help Monica."

Brooklyn raised a brow. "You're going to turn a man of god away? You saw what I did to your sister."

The man bit his lip. "I have no army. I have but few guards. You want to attack Madari with so few?"

Brooklyn shook his head. "I seek passage to the city."

"You're no soldier nor a merchant. You need skills they need if you want to live there. They don't just take any person for no valid reason," Crusher explained. He jerked his head towards his home. "My sister still needs you. Her recovery has been impressive, but what if her condition deteriorates later? I'm not a believer in miracles.

"Your sister is strong, Crusher. She will be fine," Brooklyn reasoned, hoping the man could be convinced. Presumably, the man had crossed paths with other priests before and all of them had failed to protect him. "I do not know how many priests you have encountered before in the past, but I am not like any of them."

Crusher folded his arms. "How can I believe that? Why should you be any different to the others?" He pointed towards the gates. "I let you into my home, and you heal my sister, but so soon you want to leave this place."

The man raised a fair point. He had only been in the village for several days, and Crusher had been kind enough to open his door and give him a home. Perhaps he could stay a few more days – at least until his magic had returned – but what else was there to do in this village? "Forgive me. You are correct. I am just eager to see the grand city," Brooklyn replied, choosing his words carefully, his eyes never leaving Crusher's face."

"I've never been to Madari, but I've often dreamed of visiting," Crusher said. Turning his head towards the horizon, he unfolded his arms, dropping them to his sides. "I've heard many stories. The Jewel of the South. The majestic city where people go to make a name for themselves. It's where legends are born."

"Then it's a place I must visit when I have the chance." To reclaim what was rightfully his. Defeat the emperor, claim the crown, and sit upon the iron throne. "The phoenix. Dranzer. Does the guardian still reside in Madari?" The flaming phoenix that set the entire city on fire. A sea of corpses had littered the streets. So many had been burned alive. Though many years had passed, he could still feel the sting of the flames against his skin.

"The symbol of rebirth," Crusher replied. "The city was rebuilt from ash."

Brooklyn grimaced. "History has a way of repeating itself."

Crusher raised a brow. "Let us hope that does not happen again. If Madari falls… The heart of our region… Then the rest of us will fall with it." The man turned away from the horizon, shifting his attention back towards his home. "I am going to see to Monica. You are free to move around the village, but you are not to leave without my permission."

Brooklyn nodded. "Of course. You have been too kind to me." If only he was at full strength, but all he could do was follow Crusher's commands until the time to leave surfaced. For now, he had to learn all he could about the surrounding lands.

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Julia and Raul's quarters were in a small building across from the temple. Although they were considered Romero's adopted children, they did not share the same living quarters. Fortunately, it was a short distance. Shielding his eyes from the burning rays of the golden orb in the clear sky, Sampson walked across the sand towards a much smaller building. It was certainly less significant to the temple Romero lived in. A single row of palm trees surrounded the building with only a narrow path available to gain entrance. The building itself was made of a combination of brick, mud, white marble, and some wood.

He approached the door and knocked. "My lady, Julia? My lord, Raul? I come with news from our leader." At first, there was nothing, but after a moment's pause, the door pulled open. A woman with long two-toned brown hair stood before him, dressed in a royal blue silk dress that almost touched the floor. The woman stifled a yawn.

"Sampson. What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Romero wants to speak with you at once. Both you and your brother," Sampson replied, trying not to stare too much. Julia was a beautiful woman – surely, a descendent of the gods herself – but he was just a lowly servant. He could not look her directly in the eyes, so he tried to look at her neck.

She sighed, emerald eyes looking at him intently. "Did he at least say why?"

Sampson shook his head. "No, he did not. Whatever he wants to discuss is for your ears only.
Perhaps it had something to do with his plans of conquering the throne. "Where is your brother?"

"In his room," came Julia's blunt response. "Raul!" she called.

Julia was anything but a typical royal even though she looked the part. She was loud and brash – the opposite of how a woman should behave. Women were supposed to be timid and submissive, but Julia defied the norm. A few moments later, Raul appeared, his dark red hair sticking out in all sorts of directions. He looked as if he had just crawled out of bed.

"Sister, why must you yell?" Raul said, stifling a yawn. He stretched his arms above his head, and yawned once more, before dusting off invisible dirt on his white toga.

Unlike Julia, Raul was softly spoken. It was as if the gender roles had been reversed.

"Romero wants to see us. Both," Julia explained.

Raul's eyes widened. "Did he say why?"

Sampson shook his head. "Not at all, my lord."

"Whatever it is, it can't be good..." Raul mumbled under his breath.

"You do not think highly of Romero?" Sampson searched the boy's eyes trying to read them. He would've thought the privileged adopted young adults would appreciate the man – after all, how many people were fortunate enough not to work a single day in their lives?

"I will not speak of such things in the presence of a serving boy," Raul said.

Of course. Sampson expected as much. Servants were always seen as inferior people. "I must escort you back to the throne room as requested."

The twins nodded. "All right. We'll go. And be on your best behaviour, Raul," Julia said, shooting a glare in her brother's direction.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm always on my best behaviour. But what do you think Romero needs to see us for anyway? We visited him just a few days ago and he gave us a briefing on the state of trade within this city."

"Hopefully, it's an offer of marriage," Julia said.

"What? You want to marry Romero? Don't you think that would be a bit weird?"

Julia glared. "Not Romero, you buffoon! Kingdoms need to make powerful alliances to survive, right? So, marriage is the best way to unite two kingdoms. A city that will always remain loyal to you as long as the marriage holds up."

Raul sighed. "You just want to marry a rich man, but money doesn't always buy happiness."

Sampson remained quiet, watching the twins bicker. They certainly didn't act like nobles, but they were smart enough to keep their bickering behind closed doors. "We should not delay. I do not want to displease our lord." Arguments were unsettling. It wasn't as if he had the authority to intervene either.

"Agreed, so keep your mouth shut, Raul. It's not my fault there aren't any available princesses for you to marry. Besides, you would still have to stay here anyway – I would get to leave the city and experience a new world elsewhere," Julia replied with a grin, her chin tilted up to make herself appear more important.

"And marry some old lord and raise his children," Raul replied, his grin identical to his twin. "Somehow, I think that life would displease you greatly." Grin fading, he added, "But we shouldn't keep Romero waiting. He's not the world's most patient man."

"Indeed."

Without further delay, Sampson led the twins back towards the throne room.

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He followed Garland towards the main part of the fortress, ascending a flight of stairs towards a door marked by red banners. Each banner had the symbol of an eagle-head emblazoned on the fine red cloth. A biting wind passed through the fortress, attacking his exposed skin, leaving the flesh stinging red. Wrapping his arms around himself, he quickened his pace.

As he passed through the doors, he was greeted by warmth. Flickering flames from the torch braziers lit up the otherwise dim halls and provided brief comfort from the harsh wind. Garland remained silent, and Rei didn't ask questions. He continued following the man through the corridors, ascending another flight of spiral stairs, walking down the hall only to stop before a door.

Garland pushed open the door and walked through. "What is your name?"

Rei stepped through and closed the door behind him. "Rei. Rei Kon."

"Ah, you are from the eastern lands. Skilled huntsmen. Perhaps I will give you a place amongst the hunters." Garland removed his helm, setting it down on the table. Long, silvery hair fell to the base of his tailbone, held together with hairbands. He removed his graves and plates off his arms putting them on the floor before turning to face Rei again.

Standing this close, Garland was an imposing figure. He towered over Rei, visible scars on his arms and face, evidence of having fought in many battles. He didn't look old, but he wore the expression of a man who had witnessed one too many deaths. There were black bags beneath his eyes, and his mouth seemed fixed in a thin line, as if he had lost the ability to smile.

"I offer you my apologies for the rabble outside these walls. They always become filled with excitement whenever fresh blood steps through the gates." He walked over to the window and peered below then glanced over his shoulder. "What is your hometown called?"

"I am from the village of Gabij," Rei said.

"Ah – the rangers. I thought your people had died out long ago, but it appears that I am wrong." Garland approached him, now an arm's distance away. He extended a thick, corded arm.

Rei accepted the handshake with his ringless hand, flinching at the man's iron grasp. "We know how to keep from trouble."

Garland released him, folding his arms across his chest, his shoulders pinned back. "Yet, you find yourself here."

Rei grimaced. "I came here with my friend, Lee. You saw him. The one with the broken leg. We were exploring." A lie, but he didn't want to tell Garland the real reason for venturing this far north.

Garland tilted his head to the side, but much to Rei's relief, didn't ask questions about his exploration. Instead, the man returned to the window, his long, black fur cape dragging across the floor. He peered outside once more and sighed. "Do you know what this place is, Rei? This place is a prison. A place for criminals to repent for their sins. To become greater men. To fight for an honourable purpose. If the emperor needs extra men, he will call upon you to serve in his army."

"I serve no king," Rei spat.

Garland chuckled. "Oh, but you do not have a choice." He turned around. "There is some life in you still – hold onto that fire inside. It will keep you retain a sense of humanity. If you ever hope to leave this place, then you must remember what you are fighting for."

An odd choice of words, Rei thought. "Lee – will he live?"

"I cannot say. The doctor will do what he can."

"When can I see him?"

Garland frowned. "When I decide you can. If you continue to ask questions, your friend's face will become nothing but a distant memory. I would suggest you refrain from asking questions I do not have the answers too. The doctor is not a miracle worker, but he will do what we can to save your friend. I do not allow men to die within these walls if there is a still chance that they can be saved."

Rei kept his mouth closed. He knew little about the man – could he be trusted? "I am not a criminal."

Garland lowered his gaze, seeming to be drawn to the ring on Rei's right hand. "Yet, you've stolen a ring that does not belong to you. Thievery is a crime."

"You noticed."

"Not much escapes my eyes. Hold out your hand."

Curious to learn more, Rei extended his arm. 'Tala said it was important."

Garland examined the ring. "…A ring of the cultists. Those who worship the wyvern. The snake. The ring can only be worn by those the ring approves of. How did you come to find this?"

"We found it on a body," Rei explained. "You've seen it before."

He nodded. "Yes. I found the same ring on a boy called Ian."

"What is it?"

Garland looked up. "These rings were built by priests of the Old World – a time before we had emperors. A time before the great wall was built. A bubonic plague swept through the world, decimating the population. Some had felt the guardians had abandoned them to a grisly fate, and so they created an underground temple within the heart of the mountain itself. That ring… is a key to a door."

Rei glanced down at the ring. What had Tala said? The ring chose its wearer? "I was told these rings choose people. Why would it choose me?"

"These rings were typically passed down from father to son."

"My family were never involved in dark magic," Rei responded.

Garland shook his head. "These rings do not lie. They respond to the bloodlines of their creators."

His thoughts shifted to the corpse in the forest. A distant cousin of his? How was that even possible? No one had ever mentioned anything. "You're wrong. We did not practice dark magic. We follow the White Tiger, Driger."

"Perhaps, but it does not change history. Someone in your bloodline was involved with dark magic." He gestured to the ring. "Blood magic does not lie."

Was that why Driger had left? Because the tiger knew he was unworthy? Did the Elder know? Had the man known the quest was foolishness, and sent him away to die as punishment? Rei tightened his jaw. Why would the Elder lie to him? Why had he never spoken of this before? He turned to Garland once more, searching man's cool, steel-blue eyes for signs of lies, but Garland's gaze remained unflinching.

"You mentioned Ian. Is he alive?"

"He disappeared in the mountains several months ago. A cave in according to one of the survivors."

Great, he thought wryly. So, the only person who bore a similar ring wasn't even alive anymore. How else was he going to find answers?

"You interest me, Rei. There seems to be more to you than what meets the eye, but I must test your worth in a series of trials. Only then will I know what path you should take to find your redemption," Garland said. He walked over to his desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a dusty scroll. Unfurling it, he laid it out on the table.

Rei peered over his shoulder. "The path of salvation," he read aloud.

"You can read. Good." Garland placed his finger down on a sword and shield. To the right there was a bow and a quiver filled with arrows, and to the left, a pair of fists. "Some men will die on the battlefield in a glorious death, serving their king and god. Others will find their value in serving the community with menial tasks, focusing their efforts on rebuilding, and feeding the mouths of the people. Whilst others will find their calling in tending to the wounded. Which path awaits you, I wonder. We will find out."

"What sort of trials must I face?"

Garland folded the parchment and returned it to its drawer. "Leadership. Courage. Humility."

Rei nodded. "Right."

"Rest. Take time to recover. Only when your mind is well rested will you be ready to take on these trials. Come. I will take you to your chambers." He closed the drawer and exited the room.

Rei drew in a deep breath and exhaled. Was this the life envisioned for him?