89^th of Dusk, 102

Kael’s eyes opened in a daze. His body felt light, as if he had just woken up from a long sleep. Except he wasn’t in bed. He turned his hand over, pressing into the hard planks of wood under him. A dull ache rang in his temples, constant; not too painful yet just above uncomfortable. Slowly, he sat up, observing his surroundings. He was by the river, on the dirt. Oh. The memories came to him one by one. His defeat.

Through his headache, footsteps slowly came into his consciousness. Fast, running footsteps. He realized they weren’t part of his headache. Kael craned his neck towards where the sound was coming from, seeing a cloaked figure running over.

“Kael!” the cloaked figure called out. By the time he came into his view, he recognized the man as Marcus. My partner. “Your face—what happened?” Marcus asked, shaken.

My face? He touched his right cheek; the slowly oozing wound stung as it made contact with the leather of his glove.

“He…” Kael was at a loss for words. “I was caught by surprise.”

“Are you wounded anywhere else?” Marcus asked, scanning Kael’s body for injuries.

The dazed Sentinel tried to gather his thoughts. “I…” The flying daggers returned to his memory as well. He eyed his left arm. “He cut me with some ability…he summoned his knives back…”

“Let’s go,” Marcus said, realizing his partner’s compromised state. “They’ll treat your wounds in the infirmary.” He helped Kael up to his feet, made sure that he could walk, then led him away towards the guardhouse. “We need some rest,” he noted.

Kael walked past the docks, onto the streets, past inns, past closed shops. They all passed him. His mind had another unfamiliar taste, resonating throughout his consciousness. The taste of defeat was foreign to him, so foreign it was uncomfortable. So unbelievably uncomfortable.

90^th of Dusk, 102

Archbishop Kallo sat in his office, desk turned facing the window. Beyond the glass, the sun was slowly rising over the city of Tairos, glinting across the grasslands in the distance. He hadn’t slept the whole night, and certainly didn’t want to return to his home. In just one day, his whole life had been turned upside down. But—it wasn’t the end. The Sentinels decided against killing him, and he was too important to the Covenant.

Aside from the guards outside, the two keepers, and Ovince Kallo, the Tairos Hall was empty. A shadow slowly moved over the building, slightly darkening the area outside his window. A few seconds later, the first droplets of rain were back.

Kallo sighed deeply and sat back in his chair. He enjoyed the few days out of the year that his city would be blessed with clear skies. It was always sad to see the norm return.

He grabbed his ceramic cup, taking a sip of his tea. He had earlier instructed Elana, one of the Tairos Hall keepers, to prepare him some tea. Throughout the time from when he had arrived at early nightfall to now sunrise, he had refilled his cup countless times.

Footsteps sounded outside his office—one of the keepers—followed by three familiar knocks.

“Come in,” Kallo called out, turning his chair to face the door.

The door creaked open, and Bron, the other keeper, stepped inside. He gave a respectful bow of the head before speaking. “Father.”

“What is it?”

“A man from the Tars clan is outside our gates. He said he is here to see you. Shall I let him in?”

That fool should know better than to meet me here. Kallo thought for a second, eventually deciding it would be precautionary to let him in rather than meet him outside. “Yes.”

“Right away, Father.” Bron bowed, then left, shutting the door behind him.

Villam. Why have they sent him to me? Kallo put his cup down, then racked his brain. They wouldn’t kill me—no, they can’t…what is this about? This early in the morning?

Minutes flew by during the Archbishop’s panic. The door knocked once more. This time, more thudding. Four, aggressive knocks.

Ovince straightened his posture. “Come in,” he called out.

The door came open, and Villam Tars entered the room. He was dressed brown cloak, still shining ever so slightly from the rain. He pulled his hood down, his bald head revealing itself. It always made sense to Kallo as to why he was the main muscle for the Covenant. His stocky build and rough facial features suggested someone who’d seen much. The scar running across his eye added a gross intimidating glare when he would get angry.

“Why have you come here?” Kallo asked. “You could have sent a courier first.”

Villam stared at the Archbishop with distaste. “You know why I’m here.”

“The Sentinels—they broke into my home and found the puppet. I didn’t expect they would go that far...that can’t be my fault, you all gave her to me!”

“Not your fault?” Villam snapped. “I’m sure you gave them many reasons to suspect you. If you hadn’t been so confident, maybe they would have been out of this city days ago.”

Well… Kallo didn’t respond.

Villam walked towards a roundtable placed in the office, removed one of the chairs, and brought it over closer to Ovince’s desk. He placed it a few paces away from the Archbishop, then sat down and made himself comfortable. “What did you tell them?”

Kallo hesitated, thinking over what to say.

“Well?” Villam snapped impatiently. “Spit it out.”

“Just that there were Reds here—they knew that much already when they found the puppet…so I didn’t reveal much.”

“It seems you forgot the part where you brought them to our doorstep.”

“Oh, well, yes…I only told them the first thing and then where you all were…they would’ve killed me if I didn’t reveal that much! And anyways…if that’s all they know, there’s nothing they can do to stop you guys anyway…right?”

Villam scratched his beard pensively. “Did you tell them about the 92^nd?” Shit.

Kallo’s mind scrambled to an answer. “No.”

Villam raised his eyebrows, staring a deep, potent poison into Kallo’s soul. A chill ran down the Archbishop’s spine; he quivered.

“Is…is that all?” Kallo asked.

Villem kept his cold gaze. “What do you think?”

“I would have to say…” A brief pause ensued as Ovince’s voice trailed off. “I would have to say there’s nothing left to discuss.”

“Yes. You’re right. There’s nothing left to discuss.”

“Shall I have Bron show you out?”

No response.

“Ah…Shall I show you out?”

Villam remained seated. Finally, he took his eyes off the Archbishop. Kallo felt a great weight leave his shoulders. “I’m not leaving. I’m to stay with you until the 92^nd. Can’t have you doing anything we won’t like.” The last shred of doubt regarding the safety of Ovince Kallo’s life faded away, leaving him with a buzzing sense of relief.

“I understand. That’s fine.”

Villam yawned. “Well then. Go get me some tea.”