A prophecy was given to the Realm of Valeera, but only one kingdom took heed to it and set forth a law that would divide the people into two groups. The Fair and the Strange. One group possessed a promise from the gods while the other is doomed for...
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"It's insane, Commander," Polni said. The disappointment of the Captain of the Royal Fireguard showed through the soot and grime on his face.
Eron stared up at the fire, steaming yellow against the dark sky. The eerie purple had disappeared some time ago, and the chaos forced everyone to ignore it. He inhaled the delicious smell of burning wood and stone, fighting against the wet mist of water caught in the breeze. If no one was around him, he'd smile at the beautiful sight and the havoc it caused.
"Did you find out where the fire started?" Eron asked, gripping the hilt of his sword.
Polni rubbed his gray beard, drenched in soot and sweat. "No. But we will," he assured.
The man looked like he took a head dive into soot and exited, barely alive. Eron followed his scorned eyes at the group of slaves gathered under arrest. The courtyard would soon be packed with all those found rioting or wandering the grounds without aiding the fireguard. Some wept in pure fear. Some sliced him and security with dangerous eyes. And some tried pleading their cases with their captors.
"We managed to cut the fire short before the Justice Hall, but it will be a while until we have it fully under control," Polni continued.
Eron narrowed his red eyes. They reflected the light of the closest blaze. "How bad are the slave quarters?"
"Gone to ashes," Polni said, shaking his head, thumbs locked into his thick belt. "It will take years to rebuild the section. I will make sure to do a full investigation and update you with the reports on our findings. I think, Ser, these riots will not end anytime soon."
Eron shifted his gaze to the older man and raised his chin. "If so, prepare for many executions to come."
"Hmm," Polni mused, thin lips pressed into a frown. "I do not want to be rude, but can you not stop this fire?"
Eron frowned under the eyes of the nearest soldiers glancing at him. Tarkel had given him amberia leaves to eat to reduce the aches now migrating to his arms and thighs. He still felt chilled with a mild fever and had to allow Tarkel to dab him with some makeup to conceal his reddening face. Yet still, he felt exposed, as if everyone could see or sense that his sooth was gone.
He managed to make his rounds, write quick messages for posts all over the kingdom, and personally subdue rioting slaves who thought it wise to confront him. And through it all, he wanted to scream and crawl into bed. He wanted to see Mageia—the girl—and investigate how to get his sooth back. He grew up falling in love with his fiery gift, and now that he had the opportunity to bathe in it, and possibly be seen heroic by the Crown, his sooth decided to fall to sleep.
Now embarrassment made his skin cold. Not hot. Was that even normal? Of course, he tried—when he found himself alone—to focus on setting one hand on fire. It only made him nauseated and very exhausted. A few times, a faint threatened to embarrass him in front of everyone and become the whispered joke within the royal grounds. But he managed, keeping his mind focused on reuniting with the Purple Thief. That is, if Sii was able to extract her without incident.
