Read Keeper of Dawn and Blood :: Brand New World

The fashion of Dasbridow was a mix of Prohibition-era America cinched with modern accessories. I could see the influence of the Jazz Age stamped across every building as the coach we sat on bustled to a stop. Ragged and worn down from my lack of sleep, food and hydration, I helped Galahad down from the steam-blowing vehicle and dusted myself off.

He wasn't bothered by all the pollutive wafts of air that wrapped around us. Passersby looked at the influential Runebane standing amidst the peons of the city, but he was too busy gathering his umbrella and heading off down the street. I followed him with my arms folded.

"Old man, where are you going?" I jogged to catch up with him.

Galahad was a sprightly fellow when he wanted to be. He'd left the SUV at the harbor, no doubt to be collected by some overpaid attendant. For now, our journey was to be maintained by veritable street-walking through the luxuriant roads of Merlintia's buzzing metropolis, where over-eager faces gasped at the sight of the golden-haired gentleman pacing ahead of me. It was like walking with a celebrity and having to fend off the rabid fans who wanted to get a taste of his ethereal charm, their noisy, excitable squabbles fluttering in our wake, and it only made me hasten my steps to get away from them.

While walking across the street, chuffing cars had stopped mid-motion and the wanton drivers in them had whipped out their phones, flashing their cameras at us while I did my best to shield Galahad from the onslaught of pervading voices boasting for his attention. All of it was tyrannical chaos and it was entirely unprovoked. We'd lit a match by coming here and now we were pouring gasoline onto the fire with each step we took through Merlintia.

How long would I have to be this walking shield against the madness? All my life, it seemed, for I was a Rook for the Runebanes now. Galahad wasn't even my charge, but in the presence of a high-ranking family member, I was bound to serve and protect, putting my life on the line, just as Tanjiro had. I wondered briefly what my uncle thought of all the clamoring people who entered the sparkling towers of the city, or if he'd ever stopped by one of the restaurants we'd happened to pass for a respite.

"We'll be meeting your wards at Crestbridge University. Better for you to see them when they're not expecting you, don't you agree?" Galahad finally told me.

We'd categorically marched down industrious lanes and plazas alike, taking in the flashy scenery with studious pairs of eyes and unimpressed mouths. The strobing lights of this realm were a feat, but it was just another equivalent of Las Vegas to me, inciting dull roars of boredom for something I'd never experienced and could never miss.

Arriving outside of a brick stone building that was mammoth in size and peculiar in design, I inclined my head, waiting for another one of Galahad's inspiring explanations. He was sizing up the brilliant, reddish gates that encapsulated the establishment in a thorny hug, a mischievous grin forming to my dismay. I didn't want to know why he was making such a scheming expression, but it was my duty to bear with whatever catastrophic conduct he pertained to, so I withheld my long overdue sigh and put my hands on my waist.

Waiting. Staring at the back of the old man's head as he came to some kind of a lengthy decision about either breaking into the school or entering like a civilized person.

"You'll give me a boost, won't you, Nilsenna?" Galahad asked.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. It wasn't even a question. The old coot was practically baiting me with an order that he knew I couldn't refuse, and I was in no mood to volley with him on technicalities; instead, I just walked up to the gate, knelt and presented my hands for him to step on. As soon as I did, the wrinkled lines on his face seemed to disappear altogether. All it took was some shady acquiescence on my part to get the old man into an interminable good mood once more.

"I must insist that we find a more dignified exit on our way out." I grunted, while he steadily placed one foot upon my cupped hands.

The umbrella was tossed over the fence as he used my shoulder to haul himself up the fence. When he was in a steadier position, I stood with Galahad on my shoulders, the added weight stealing most of my breath in a fell swoop, and I locked my legs, telling him to hang onto the tree branches that dangled within his reach.

Galahad's incoherent muttering chirped inconstantly while I rolled my eyes at this inordinate foolishness. How was this the job of a Rook?

He proudly lifted himself above the carmine-coloured fences lining Crestbridge University, and sat on the twisted arm of a tree branch, sweat dotting his brows as he puffed with exertion.

"Now, my dear. It's your turn. Be quick about it, we don't have all day!" He spouted with a snap of his finger.

"Can't you just use magic to lift me over?" I demanded.

"Performing magic from the outside of the university is severely restricted. Once you're in, I can be a little more flexible. Now do as I say, little one, we're going to be late."

There was a headache forming, I could feel it. A quick search around the street proved that onlookers were standing around, watching with their mouths hanging open. A Runebane and their Rook in the middle of the day, reveling in such juveniles behavior - what would everyone think? This was only my first day and already the media would be pointing fingers at my epic ability to sully the Runebane name.

I moved back, got some running speed and then pounced on the fence. I scrambled up the metal bars and nearly impaled myself when I jumped over them. They were taller and sharper than any fencing enclosure had a right to be. The tips looked suspiciously like... daggers.

"Okay, Runebane, get down here and deliver me to my wards. We've wasted enough time." I said, losing my patience.

The Runebane family of Elves had a special relationship with the elements. Earth, air, fire and water. Galahad, from what I'd gathered in previous journals, liked to play with the trees, restructuring them into fantastical spires, and he blossomed small flowers into mega-flora every now and then. I'd wager that he was modest most of the time, but today he was feeling a bit daring, his presumptuous eyes ensnaring mine as he shook a hand out, ticklish energy zapping through the air and hitting the ground at my feet.

An exceptionally large peony began to grow until it was bigger than a horse, and the petals fell open in welcome, almost expectantly, as though an answer had been given to an unspoken question. When I looked up at the elderly Runebane sitting in the tree, he was preparing himself to jump down into the flower.

I crossed my arms. "Of course. A peony to land on, because why not? It's not like we're trying to leave incriminating evidence or anything."

"Don't be snippy, Rook. Are you always so ill-tempered when you're a day without nourishment?"

"You know that's not why I'm like this." My voice was a dead giveaway not to pursue the subject.

He landed on the flower and rolled off the velvety petals, a look of seriousness snatching his rebuttal away. He patted the oversized plant fondly and then led me toward the entrance of the building. The decadent stairs that led into the university were gilded and marbled, etched with glowing letters that moved when we ascended them.

Twin, jade lion statues guarded the doors of the building and they moved to meet us at the top of the steps, yowling at Galahad first, right before turning their sightless eyes toward me. Amazed, I peered at the massive, stony creatures that were protective of their den, awaiting judgement and violent movement, if any.

"Come on, darlings. Don't be like that. You know me." Galahad coaxed one of them.

One of the jade lions made a sour face and pawed at his pocket. He pulled out whatever had captured the interest of the lion and dangled it in front of its face...

A Twinkie.

Both jade lions purred.

I nibbled my bottom lip hungrily. "You had that in your pocket the whole time. You're the devil, you know that, right?"

He bubbled with laughter as he divided the Twinkie into equal halves for the lion statues. They didn't look like they were capable of consuming the cake due to their rigid bodies being unable to process anything, but the Twinkie had disappeared into their gaping maws regardless, allowing us to tread into the hallowed building of Crestbridge University unscathed.

All it had cost us was a piece of cake.

That part was still a guttural stab to my chest and I was glaring sideways at my employer as we flew towards a reception desk, his pedantic cheer stapled on like a sign on a corkboard.

After asking for directions to the lecture hall, we were kindly directed down many long winding hallways and finally came towards a set of double doors. I noticed this entire floor was dedicated to the lecture hall, and the décor for it had changed considerably since coming around the corner - one minute we were waltzing through the Great Gatsby era and the next, we were staring at a mix of 1980's themed wallpaper and vinyl flooring.

"I thought you've been here before?" I asked Galahad as we approached the set of doors.

He nodded, albeit with an unsure set of shoulders. "Indeed I have, but when the student body rearranges the location of each room like a puzzle, I tend to forget where everything is. They do it every week to keep visitors on their toes. And then they change the theme of this place to keep it interesting every now and then. Maniacs, aren't they?"

We crashed through the doors and swept into the era of rock and roll. The smell of drunken youth and cigarettes drummed into our senses as we entered like a determined force, seeking our targets with held breaths. Galahad dragged me by my elbow through the crowd of high society Elves, who were casually swing-dancing to clanging music. It was a dehydrated pool of noise and sweat, but it was glorious to behold.

The lecture hall was... not being used for lectures, that was for sure. I spotted silver-haired Nephilim in bunches around the room, drinking from delicate glasses of alcohol as they laughed, but none were doing anything out of the ordinary. After all, this was a place of leisure for wealthy Elves and Nephilim alike, an academic hideaway beset with pleasures and unrefined indulgences. And it was my job to protect these assets for the Runebanes - that is, if I ever managed to track them down on the dance floor.

Galahad looked over his shoulder at me and shouted something.

I yelled to be heard over the music, "What was that, sir?"

"Over there! It appears we've arrived just in time for your timely intervention, Rook." The old man motioned with his hand toward a far corner, where a chaise lounge and a booze cart were surrounded by slovenly couples.

Nothing seemed overly amiss at first, but then I noticed a streak of discomfort on the face of one of the female Elves who sat on the lounge. She was shoulder to shoulder with her Elven companion, avoiding his molten eye contact and swatting his palms away from her hemline in a subtle attempt to discourage his attentions.

Her honeyed locks were half-pinned on her head, and the sterling fire that I now associated with the Runebane gaze was at its lowest potential; leading me to believe that this Elven woman was the introverted triplet that I'd been sent to look out for, Perpetua Runebane. My hands were clenched, my head was tipped down and Galahad's righteous whispers of mirth trailed after me as I pushed my way through the hazardous capital of jitterbugs on the dance floor. Many stared at my unusual attire and grim expression, but I was bolstered by resolution and a need to rescue the woman who was being taken advantage of in the corner of the lecture hall.

There came a point in my mind where I thought of doing things differently. Calmly, perhaps. But enabling such atrocities such as that male Elf groping her in public, to the point that she was too intimidated to say anything, was an unthinkable commitment that roused my ire. Rook duty or not, I couldn't stand by and do nothing.

When I came within a few feet of the secluded corner, a smirking Nephilim stood in my way. He was a hulking character of zero words and offered no chance for me to move around him. His eyes sparked with inarguable dismissal and I forthwith required no introduction to his purpose here - I recognized the ring on his pinky finger. He was also a Rook. My guess would be that he was protecting the scourge that was harassing my ward, Perpetua.

My pinky finger didn't have a fealty ring... Once the Runebanes announced me as their Rook, I'd be given one to keep. It would be anathema to remove it from then on.

"Wrong place for the likes of you, bloodsucker." The Nephilim swept cruel eyes of disdain over my unappealing garb and jerked his head to the side, as if issuing an order for me to leave.

Oh, yeah. I got the memo and I purposely wrinkled my nose at it. He could kiss my ass.

"You are the ugliest son of a bitch I've ever seen. Anyone ever tell you that before?"

In a blur, his scarred hand came up and tried to collect the front of my hoodie, but whereas Nephilim were supernaturally gifted with speed and brutal strength, Vampires had the advantage of judicious foresight in battle, which meant that I had an inkling of what his intentions were right before he could attack. My kind were unquestionable creatures of night and mystery, torn from the same cloth of death and darkness, and wherever bloodthirstiness lurked, our extrasensory perception and foresight was significantly heightened; hence why we made the best protectors and servants.

I knocked his wrist away and trapped his following arm against my shoulder in a light hold, before I rolled under it like it was a limbo pole. My foot snapped out, kicking at the Nephilim's inner shin, making him widen his stance. A look of annoyance spread across his face for an amazing second, right before I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow.

He responded with speed and aggression, just like I knew he would. My instincts were on fire, warning me of his approach to my open left. I pirouetted to the side and left a gap at the same moment that he launched a roundhouse kick at me, and then I met his next blow by whipping off my hoodie, and wrapping it around his wrist when he tried to hit me.

I pulled him in with it and said, "I just want to speak to your overlord for a moment. Is that so unreasonable?"

The eyes of the Nephilim boiled with deep-seated contempt, and I knew that if this hadn't been a magic-restricted environment, he probably would have called upon his ethereal blades to smite me on the spot.