Six Words [Japanese Progression Fantasy, Chaps 1-4] (Patreon)

Hey Peeps,

I wrote some of this while I was recovering from medication, LOL

I've made it more Japanese, and finished the outline. It'll be rather cool, I think. Maybe too cool, honestly.

Let me know if you enjoy! If peeps like it, I'll keep posting.

If you want your name in this one, let me know. Patreons get to have their names in my stories (typically as background characters) and this story will have names I can exchange for Patreon names.

Shami

Chapter One

“In the beginning, the darkness, Axraksii, fought the light, Ozeon.

Axraksii won.”

- A quote from ‘Varinth’s Beginnings, a History Book’

            As I chained Fietta’s ankle to the bedpost, I knew this would be another brutal evening.

            She had been picked to entertain one of the Ring Warlocks, the most powerful and influential magic wielders in all the world. I had been picked to make sure it all went smoothly.

            Some would say it was an honor to share a bed with one of these “gods,” but anyone who thought that was just inanely innocent and naïve. The Ring Warlocks were the worst to entertain. Their power knew no equal, and the laws of the magicless held no sway over them. Whatever the Ring Warlock wanted to do tonight, we would have to allow. No discussion.

            Fietta ran an unsteady hand over the satin sheets covering the gigantic bed. This was the best room in the Scarlet Lantern, reserved for only the highest-paying clients. I wondered if the Ring Warlock had actually paid to have our best courtesan for the night. A promise not to burn this place to the ground would be enough to buy her services.

            “Everything will be fine,” Fietta whispered to herself.

            It was her mantra to chase away fear. I had heard her mutter it many times before.

            I placed a comforting hand on her bare foot. “Everything will be fine.” Our eyes met, and for a moment, she seemed steady and confident.

            Then Fietta watched me as I walked around the room, making sure everything was in its place.

            The light from the hanging lanterns, dim and sultry, created a romantic glow that concealed any evidence of wear and tear—or anything else, for that matter. I avoided glancing at the paintings of lewd figures on the walls, or all the toys on the far nightstand. Instead, I made sure Fietta had everything she needed to make the evening easier for her.

            I pulled open the top drawer on the nearest nightstand. “I brought some canisters up from the kitchen. This one has water, and this one has clove oil.”

            The water was there just in case she got thirsty—or needed to clean up any messes. Clove oil was slick, and easily worked as lubricant. They were both in little silver canisters, not much of either, but hopefully enough for a single evening.

            “Thank you, Rimon-lin,” Fietta said, her voice barely audible.

            The honorific lin, when added to the end of a name, was something special.

            It was meant for loved ones, trusted friends, and the closest of family. Fietta and I weren’t related by blood, but I would have said she was my kin. I had been born in the Scarlet Lantern, brought into this world by a courtesan who had refused to give up her child. If I had been born a woman, I, too, would’ve been made a courtesan.

            Instead, since I was male, and owned by the Scarlet Lantern, I was made to do all the hard labor. And I was also the one who made sure no patron abused the courtesans outside of what they paid for.

            The women here had raised me, and since I cared for them, we were all very close.

            Thumps echoed in the hallway. It was almost time for Fietta to perform.

            “I’ll be nearby if you need anything,” I said.

            “Please don’t go far.” There was a hint of fear in her voice. “Wait just outside the door?”

            I nodded. “Of course.”

            Fietta rubbed her bare, slender legs. It was warm in the Scarlet Lantern, and a musky aroma wafted on the air like smoke. Clothed in a tunic and pants, I wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t awful.

            Fietta wore only a thin nightgown. No one had offered her any other clothes for the evening. The Ring Warlock likely wanted something easily torn away.

            She was beautiful, though. Slender, soft, with hair as luscious as ink, and a face that was without blemish—there was a reason Fietta was the Scarlet Lantern’s top courtesan.

            After one last glance around the room, I headed for the door. I slid it open, stepped out, and then effortlessly slid the door shut, barely making a sound. The owner, Lanin Liimen, hurried down to the hallway toward me, his face red, his spherical body sweating. He wore the large outer robe that all businessmen wore, but that was in addition to his shirt, vest, and long pants. The summer heat didn’t sit well with him.

            “The Ring Warlock is here,” Lanin growled through clenched teeth. “Is the room ready, Rimon-ves?”

            The honorific ves wasn’t really an honor at all.

            It was used when addressing someone much lower in station. Someone you owned. Someone you considered the same as property.

            I replied to Lanin with only a nod.

            “Excellent,” he said. “I want you to lock the door once the warlock enters, and then go keep watch over the other girls.”

            “You want me to lock the door with the warlock inside?” I asked.

            “It’s just a precaution. Fietta isn’t stupid enough to run, but if she suffers a lapse in judgment, I don’t want it to cost all our heads.”

            Lanin kept his black hair short, which meant even the slightest amount of sweat in his locks and he appeared soaked. The man rubbed the back of his hand across his vast forehead, clearing the acre of skin of all his perspiration.

            “You think she’ll try to run?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “I already chained her to the bed, just as you instructed.”

            “That was at the warlock’s request! But I know better. The girls can find a way out, if they so choose.”

            “I don’t think locking the door is necessary.”

            “When a Ring Warlock visited the Velvet Haven, the owner lost two girls because one tried to curtail the warlock’s fun.” Lanin waved to the door. “I won’t let that happen to us. Just lock the door and leave. Let the warlock do whatever he wants, and in the morning, we’ll call an undertaker if need be.”

            Lanin said nothing else before continuing his way down the hallway. I waited, rooted in place, my thoughts on Fietta. After a prolonged moment, I stepped closer to the door and listened.

            “Everything will be fine,” she said from within, her voice mostly muffled by the wood, but still loud enough that I heard every anxiety-laced word. “Everything will be fine.”

            Stomping filled the hallway. I leapt away from the door and waited.

            A man stumbled around the corner and came into my view. He was all alone as he approached me, chuckling to himself as though thoroughly amused. The Scarlet Lantern seemed colder now.

            The man straightened himself halfway to the door, but his unfocused eyes betrayed his thorough inebriation.

            He wore a black ring on his right hand, the band snug on his thumb. That was the source of all his power—a magical artifact that could only be removed upon his death.

            The Ring Warlock had other clothing clumsily draped over his body. His robe, sash belt, and silky shirt were all stained with liquor, but most of my focus remained on his ring.

            “Good evening,” I said as I bowed my head.

            The man backhanded me across the face with his ring hand. My teeth hurt from the force of his blow, and I stumbled back-first into the wall.

            “That isn’t how you address me, servant.”

            I knelt to one knee and bowed my head. This was the formal way to address anyone who was powerful enough to wield magic. But I hadn’t been in the mood to honor the Ring Warlock, which was why my jaw now throbbed in agony. A mistake, but probably one I wouldn’t change, even if I could redo the last sixty seconds of my life.

            With all the grace of a three-legged horse, the man fumbled with the door, trying to slide it open but failing several times. Once he finally managed, the Ring Warlock lumbered inside. I stood and slid the door shut behind him, my hand shaky.

            Normally, sliding doors like ours couldn’t be locked, but this was an establishment that sold private encounters, so each door had metal stoppers and secret latches. I could lock the door from the outside.

            But I decided not to.

            Instead, I just stood there, unmoving, and waited.

            At first, there were all the standard noises one would expect to hear from inside a room at the Scarlet Lantern. The creak of the bedframe, the soft voice of a woman, the strike of flesh—all things I had heard before. I was tempted to do as Lanin bade me, but I couldn’t bring myself to break a promise I had made to Fietta.

            I’d wait here.

            Whenever the warlock was done, I would be the one to comfort her.

            But I only waited a few minutes before the noises in the room stopped. No more rhythmic squeaks of the bed, no more heavy breathing or words.

            Just silence.

            Then the Ring Warlock started wheezing.

            For a short while, I didn’t think much of it, because everyone needs to catch their breath now and again. But the man coughed for a straight minute, his hoarse croaking growing louder and louder.

            “Help,” Fietta called from within. “Someone, help!”

            Thankful I hadn’t left her unattended, I slid open the door and rushed inside. The sight before me caught me off guard.

            The Ring Warlock was on his knees, half on top of Fietta. His face was purple, his eyes bulging. The man clawed at his throat, his fingernails digging into his flesh. He wore no clothing, and neither did Fietta—their garments were strewn all over the floor.

            “Rimon-lin,” Fietta said, her face covered in the man’s spittle, the side of her face bloodied and red from being struck. “Do something.”

            “Warlock?” I asked, because I hadn’t gotten his name. “Do you need help?” A silly question, but I didn’t know what else to say.

            Didn’t he have powerful magic? Couldn’t he stop himself from choking?

            Or was he too drunk to use any of his amazing abilities?

            The Ring Warlock dismounted Fietta and fumbled across the satin sheets, heading toward the edge of the bed like he wanted to escape the room. His coordination was abysmal. An infant could’ve gotten off the bed with more haste.

            Fietta sat up and awkwardly tugged one of the sheets up to her shoulders.

            “W-Wa… Water…” the man choked out.

            He wanted a drink?

            Fietta turned to me, horrified.

            I walked over to the nightstand and threw open the drawer. In that split second, as I gazed upon the silver canisters, I had a dark thought.

            Instead of grabbing the water, I picked up the other canister.

            The Ring Warlock rushed across the bed and snatched the canister from my hand. He twisted the top off and threw back the contents. Oil rushed into his mouth, and that clearly startled him. His bulging eyes attempted to escape his face as he wheezed harder than ever.

            The man spit oil all over the sheets, and then in one last burst of energy, he threw himself onto the floor. He hit with a loud thud, his flesh so purple, he was practically a giant plum.

            Then he stopped moving.

            Drool trickled out of his mouth and pooled around his head.

            I watched, unblinking, as his eyes dulled, and his face slackened.

            “Everything will be f-fine,” Fietta whispered. Then she gulped down a breath. “Everything will be fine.”

            After several prolonged minutes, the ring on the man’s right thumb slid off—all on its own. The ring rolled across the wood floor in a slow circle before falling over with a clink.

            The Ring Warlock was dead.

            A tear slid down Fietta’s bloodied cheek. “E-Everything will be fine.”

            “It will be,” I said.      

            But we both knew that wasn’t true.

            The moment they found a dead Ring Warlock in this room, the other warlocks would come for us. This was it. The end of the line. Even though it hadn’t been our fault that the man was drunk.

            What had he even choked on? His own spit?

            Then again, I had given him the oil. I had helped him along to the grave. All the more reason they would kill us.

            I ran my hands through my short hair.

            “What’re we going to do?” Fietta whispered, drawing me out of my thoughts.

            After I took a deep breath, I walked over the bedpost. I pulled the keys from my pocket and unlocked Fietta’s chain. My heart hammered the entire time.

            “You should go be with the others,” I whispered. “I’ll… I’ll tell them it was me. That I had gotten upset. And stormed into the room.”

            At least then, only one person would need to pay with their life. And ultimately, it had been my fault. If I had listened to Lanin, this wouldn’t have happened.

            Fietta rubbed her ankle as she glanced at the dead body, and then to me. “Rimon-lin… They’ll execute y-you for this.”

            “It’ll be okay. Just leave. Quickly.”

            It was my job to protect the girls of the Scarlet Lantern. They were my family.

             More silent tears ran down her face. Fietta wiped away some of the blood and then swaddled herself in the silk sheet. Without any other words, she hurried out of the room, leaving me alone with the corpse.

            This was…

            Not how I wanted things to end.

            I paced the foot of the bed, my chest so tight it felt as though I couldn’t breathe. If I ran, they would find me. The Ring Warlocks had magics—incredible magics!—I wouldn’t be able to escape.

            They always found the people who had wronged them.

            What was I going to do?

            My eyes drifted over to the black ring on the floor. It was so… shiny. And beautiful. On the inside, where no one could ever see, tiny red gemstones caught the light just right. They glowed.

            I stared at the ring.

            Could I just… take it?

            I glanced around. It was just me and the bloated body. No one else.

            And even though the man had fallen to the floor, creating a mild racket, no one would come to investigate. Girls got thrown to the floor quite often. Thumps and bashes were commonplace—nothing out of the ordinary.

            I walked around the bed, knelt, and reached for the mysterious piece of jewelry. But I stopped, inches from the ring, my hand unsteady.

            Magical power radiated from the ring like heat from a fire. I felt the potential of the ring, as though its unimaginable capacity were cooking my fingers.

            The rings couldn’t be removed until the wearer died. If I took this ring, I would become a target. The other Ring Warlocks would have to kill me to take it back.

            Then I nervously chuckled. “Dead if I do, dead if I don’t.”

            So without any more overthinking, I snatched the ring from the floor. It was hot. Powerful. I shoved it onto my right thumb, hoping it wouldn’t hurt to wear.

            A surge of magic shot through my hand, then my wrist, up my arm, and straight to my head. I grunted, and managed to stifle an agonized yelp. My head spun as I stood, stumbled backward, and then collapsed onto the oil-covered bed.

            With gritted teeth, I closed my eyes.

            My thoughts…

            I…

            “Who do you wish to bind yourself to?” someone whispered into my ear.

            “What?”

            I opened my eyes and wildly glanced around. It was still just me and the corpse. No one else was here.

            “Who said that?” I asked the empty room.

            “Who do you wish to bind yourself to?” the strange voice repeated, its words clearer, its tone sinister.

            I took in shallow breaths. “What do you mean?” I glanced behind me. Nothing.

            But when the voice spoke, it was like someone’s mouth was inches from my ear. “Warlocks gain their power by binding themselves to ancient titans who dwell in the darkness—they are known as felheen. That’s what a warlock is. An extension of a powerful beast that slumbers beneath us.”

            “I… I didn’t know that,” I said, breathless. I checked under the bed. But still—there was nothing.

            It felt as though sharp teeth scraped across the shell of my right ear as the voice asked, “You have Garrain Wist’s ring? You managed to take it from him? How interesting. I can’t wait to see which being you tie yourself to.”

            I shook my head. “I don’t know how to do any of that.” I yanked on the ring, trying to remove it.

            But it was fused to my skin, the little red gemstones pulsing with power.

            “Who are you?” I demanded.

            “I am the Warden, here to help you bind your soul to an ancient felheen.”

            I took a deep breath.

            Then exhaled.

            “What if I don’t want to?” I asked. “What if I say no? What if I don’t want to bind myself to anything?”

            “Then the ring will consume you from the inside out,” the voice said with a laugh.

            This tiny brothel room seemed smaller than ever. I shuddered and rubbed my arms, the weight of the ring heavy.

            “And if I do bind myself to one of these ancient beings, I’ll gain magic?”

            “Of course. So much magic you won’t know what to do with it all. The felheen are the mightiest of all beings, and while they sleep, they are happy to provide you with a fraction of their power. It is the only way for them to see the world. Your eyes become their windows. That is the trade you make.”

            That didn’t sound horrible, but my inexperience with this process worried me. The Ring Warlocks bound themselves to ancient creatures to gain their power? I hadn’t known that. How would I go about doing this?

            “Okay,” I said with an exhale. “I’ll do it. I’ll bind myself to a felheen.”

            “Pick one,” the Warden said, a smile in his tone. “Pick the felheen you want to bind yourself to.”

            I shook my head, my brow furrowed. “I… I don’t know. Any of them?”

            “You must pick one. You can name the felheen you want to bind yourself to, or you can call out for one, summoning the beast’s consciousness from the void.”

            I paced back and forth at the foot of the bed. How much time did I have? If Lanin found Fietta, or if Fietta told the others, someone would come looking for me.

            “How do I summon one?” I whispered as I glanced over at the dead man.

            “To call into the void, simply pick six words to identify the felheen you would find the most suitable.”

            “Six… words?”

            “Think of it like a wish list. You will say six words to describe the ideal felheen and only one who matches the combination of characteristics will answer your call.”

            A wish list?

            “Can you tell me the name of the felheen Garrain Wist was bonded to?” I asked.

            “No.” Another sinister chuckle. “But I can tell you the six words he used.”

            “Fine. Tell me.”

            “Garrain-ves called into the void and said: cunning, fiendish, poisonous, poisonous, deadly, clandestine.”

            I held my breath for a moment. “Two words were the same?”

            “Correct.”

            Those were terrible words for a sinister monster.

            “Garrain-ves called forth a felheen of assassination who granted him powers of strength, stealth, future visions, venom—and the magical ability to know a person’s weakness. He saw whenever enemies were lurking in the shadows, and he was immune to all poisons.”

            “But not to choking,” I morbidly quipped.

            The Warden laughed, and his mirth almost had me doing the same.

            “But why did he say poisonous twice?” I asked.

            “If you speak a word more than once, you will emphasize its importance. If you say loyal three times, the felheen who answers your call will grant you magic to control the loyalties of all men—but if you only said it once, perhaps just magic to influence one man. Think of it as a multiplier. The more times you say it, the stronger the magics you will receive in that area.”

            “The magic I gain is related to the felheen I call,” I said, more to myself than the Warden. “And I can only do this once?”

            “You only ever bind yourself to one felheen, human. Pick wisely.”

            My heart beat so loud it echoed in my ears.

            I stared down at the ring on my thumb. I was a Ring Warlock now. I had seen the powers they wielded. One of them controlled the weather, the tide, and the sands of any island. Had his six words been maritime, sailing, wind, water, weather, land?

            No. Garrain had used words like clandestine and cunning. His magic allowed him to see his enemies and even visions of the future. I only had six words. There was obviously an art to picking the correct combination, like writing a beautiful poem.

            I closed my eyes, my thoughts on the Scarlet Lantern.

            What kind of magic did I want?

            I wanted to escape this place.

            And…

            I never wanted to be trapped again. I wanted to fight against people like the owner of the Scarlet Lantern. I wanted control of my life, and to help the courtesans. What kind of magic would give me everything I desired? What kind of abilities would make sure I was always free? Always capable? Always in control of my own destiny?

            I needed strong magic—power so devastating in strength I could deal with any threat to my person, including other Ring Warlocks. They would come for me and my new ring, no doubt in my mind. How could I make sure I had the ability to deal with them? Especially with fewer words than an average sentence?

            Which six words should I use?

            I needed to be clever. No mundane words would do.

            “Be confident,” the Warden whispered to me.

            I hated every moment of indecision. I didn’t want to be weak. I didn’t want to be at anyone’s mercy. I rubbed my jaw where Garrain had backhanded me.

            Was “deadly” a good word to use? Or simply “freedom?”

            No. I wanted something better. This was my golden opportunity—I would never get another chance like this.

            After a deep breath, I opened my eyes. “I’m ready.”

            “Are you? Good. Say your six words aloud, and then allow the magic to flow into you. The felheen are ready.”

            Right before I spoke my summons, the temperature in the room dropped five degrees. It was as if the ancient felheen who dwelled in the darkness already knew what I was about to say—and it excited them.

            With confidence, I said, “Powerful, powerful, powerful, powerful, powerful, powerful.”

Chapter Two

“When the light, Ozeon, was shattered, his body became the stars.

The two suns of our world are said to be Ozeon’s left eye and one of his teeth.”

- A quote from ‘Varinth’s Beginnings, a History Book’

            The lantern lights instantly died.

            Darkness flooded the brothel room faster than it had any right to. I shielded my eyes, thinking I was under attack, but the strike never came. I remained tensed, my breathing ragged. When I dared to lower my arm, the floor beneath my feet gave way.

            The floorboards had just…

            Vanished.

            I fell.

            I had been on the second story of the Scarlet Lantern, and I thought I would collide with the first floor, but that never happened. Instead, I continued to fall. With frantic motions, I reached for something solid, but there was nothing. Stuck in a freefall, I tumbled through the void, unable to see and unable to grab anything.

            “Help!” I shouted.

            My words fled from me, and then were gobbled up by the darkness.

            I fell through what seemed like an infinite void, and the longer I hurtled through it, the more I was certain of my impending death. My heart hammered, and my veins were icy. How long would this last? I closed my eyes and held them tightly shut.

            “Conduct yourself with dignity,” the Warden said, his voice still in my ear. “You are in the presence of Axraksii, the First Shadow.”

            Did that matter if I was about to die?

            Then my fall slowed… somehow.

            At first, I had been falling so quickly that the wind whistling past my ears made it difficult to hear my own breathing. But now, my speed of decent was leisurely. I felt weightless, like a feather floating to the ground.

            But I still couldn’t see. I couldn’t stand.

            I wasn’t even entirely certain how I would conduct myself with dignity, but I swallowed cold air and nodded. “Axraksii-erah?”

            Even though my fall was slower now, my words still tumbled away from me.

            The honorific erah was reserved for emperors or sole rulers. I had never actually used it before because I had never been lucky enough to speak with someone of such a standing. But what else was I supposed to use for “the first shadow?”

            A deep rumble of laughter filled the darkness around me. It was so powerful, so baritone, that it rattled me to my core.

            I wasn’t certain how big this felheen was—all I knew was that I was tiny in comparison.

            A chill ran over my body, as though the darkest part of the void had briefly touched me. Something about it felt as though my mind had been sifted through. Axraksii hadn’t known how to properly communicate with me, but now he did.

            “Mortal,” the darkness said, its voice all around me, surrounding me as much as the darkness. “I heard your summons. Bold of you to think you can bind yourself to the most powerful of all the felheen. All others fear me, for I am the one who snuffed out the light.”

            “I…”

            The sensation of perpetually falling made it difficult to concentrate on my speech. The longer this went, the smaller I felt. How gargantuan was Axraksii? How would I ever get home?

            “I needed power,” I finally whispered, my words darting upward as I fell away from them. “Any amount of power will do.”

            “Clever of you to speak the same six words, but it was also a gamble. I can only grant you one of my magics. Thankfully, it will be the most devastating of all. I will grant you the ability to snuff out existence. Heat Death. The end to everything, even entropy.”

            “Thank Axraksii for his generosity,” the Warden said.

            But before I could follow the Warden’s instructions, the darkness spoke again.

            “Be warned, mortal. My power is infinite, but your body is not. The life you take will not disappear into the world, for then it would go to my enemies. Instead, it will stay with you—and once you reach your limit, you will expire.”

            The Warden chortled. “Imagine your body is a fragile tea cup. Now imagine someone pouring rocks into said cup.”

            “So… I’ve made the wrong choice?” I managed to ask. Should I have used six other words?

            “While your body is fragile, there are ways to improve it—and ways to master my magic to better serve your pathetic purposes. Those aren’t my concerns. They’re yours.”

            The Warden chuckled into my ear, as though this whole exchanged amused him.

            “In exchange for my power, I will see the world through your eyes.” The rumble of laughter that rattled me to my bones returned. “Are you ready to seal this pact?”

            “Yes,” I whispered, my heart beating faster than before.

            Warmth rushed through my veins. But just as quickly as the sensation shot through me, it was gone.

            “Ah,” the darkness said, shaking me with its power. “Rimon, the only mortal to have dared make a bond with me. I give you one last warning. Never wear another ring of the felheen. Never.”

            I wanted to ask why, but the instant the darkness spoke that final word, I hit something with a thud. I was on my belly, my chest on something solid. The experience had been so surreal, it took me a few moments to realize I wasn’t falling anymore.

            I opened my eyes.

            The room…

            I was back at the Scarlet Lantern, the room still lit, lying on floorboards that clearly hadn’t vanished. I jumped to my feet, my clothing soaked with sweat. The dead body of the Ring Warlock was just how I had left it—naked and undignified, soon to bloat and rot.

            I ran both my hands over my body, shaken. Was I in one piece? Had I actually gone anywhere? Had that all happened in my head? The black ring was snug on my right thumb, so I knew that part was real.

            “Rimon-ves,” the Warden said, his actual location still unknown to me, his voice just in my ear. “I find you interesting. What troubles will you bring to the world, I wonder? The status quo for mortals has been stagnant for far too long.”

            “You… You’re still here?” I whispered.

            “I will always be here. You wear a piece of my body on your own.”

            “You’re one of the felheen, then?”

            The Warden darkly chuckled. “Oh, no. I’m not one of the felheen.”

            That didn’t make sense to me. “Then what are you?” I whispered.

            “That’s for me to know, and for you to remain oblivious.”

            I ran a hand through my hair, wishing this creature wasn’t with me. I didn’t care for the Warden’s cryptic and often sinister tone. What I wanted was to gather my thoughts and contemplate my situation. What was the best way to use this new power?

            A better question—how did the power work?

            I wasn’t entirely certain.

            More thumping filled the Scarlet Lantern. I stood rooted in place, my breath held. Someone was stomping their way to this very room. Was it another Ring Warlock? Had they already discovered what had happened?

            The door slid open with a bang.

            A man stormed into the room, his body clad in armor. It was the kind of armor made of silvery metal plates and scales, carefully woven together in an intricate design so as to appear reptilian. It allowed the warrior to move more freely, while still protecting him.

            The man brandished a short sword with a thin blade—the kind only bladekeepers were allowed to carry within city walls.

            He had the dark tanned skin of someone who had stayed out too long in the light of the twin suns, and his inky black hair was tied back into a tail.

            “Where is—” But the man never finished his question. His gaze fell upon the dead body, and all the answers became apparent.

            I didn’t know what to say, so I remained silent.

            This bladekeeper was muscled, and he held his weapon with the confidence of someone who had seen more than one battle. I had been born and raised in the Scarlet Lantern, my courtesan mother only teaching me how to read and write. Formal combat training had never been an option for me.

            The bladekeeper slowly brought his gaze to meet mine. But then he glanced at the ring on my thumb, and I knew he had the answer to his next unspoken question.

            “You killed him?” the man whispered, half in disbelief, half in cold rage.

            Again, I remained silent.

            But that was apparently enough of an admission for this bladekeeper. He raised his sword and lowered his stance.

            “You’ll pay with your life!”

            When he lunged, I leapt backward, onto the bed, nearly catching my feet into the silk bedsheets. The man slammed his sword into the nightstand, the blade cleaving deep into the cypress wood.

            I stumbled over the mattress and found my back against the wall.

            The bladekeeper easily yanked his weapon free. “Murderer,” he said through clenched teeth. “You think you can just steal his magic? That ring doesn’t belong to vermin like you.”

            “Best to use your new gift,” the Warden said, his voice directly in my ear. “Imagine it like a second set of lungs. Concentrate, and breathe in.”

            The bladekeeper clearly couldn’t hear the Warden. The man lunged for me a second time, bounding over the mattress. His armor must’ve weighed at least twenty-five pounds, but his well-muscled physique allowed him to maneuver with surprising grace and agility.

            I stumbled to the side, barely dodging the blade. It whistled past my head, almost clipping my ear. Desperate to do something, I imagined breathing with a second set of lungs, just as the Warden had suggested.

            When I inhaled, the air grew instantly cold.

            I hadn’t… really focused…

            But I felt it.

            The lights died, the flames in the lantern snuffed out.

            The bladekeeper gasped and then gurgled. He clutched at his neck and then fell to the floor with a loud crash, his armor clinking and clanging. Then he was still.

            Moonlight seeped into the room from the cracks between the wooden shutters over the window.

            “What happened?” I asked, breathless.

            But my magic wasn’t done. I had sensed the death of the lantern flames, and the man—but then I also sensed the death of hundreds of termites in the walls. And also, the death of mold in the wood of the bedframe. And a bird who had dared fly too close to the building just outside the wall.

            The lifeforce of everything that had died—the pure essence of their existence—flooded me all at once. It was like rocks thrown into a delicate tea cup. My body burned and I collapsed to the floor, groaning as I gritted my teeth.

            I forced myself to exhale, trying in my panic to end the magic, to stop this.

            Thankfully, I succeeded. The power of the felheen faded from the room, leaving me cold and aching from the inside. The wood on the bedframe was rotted. The bladekeeper’s body was withered, like he had aged over a hundred years in an instant.

            Everything in this room, and a few feet around in all directions, had instantly perished.

            The magic was bubble—a sphere—that radiated from me.

            I hadn’t been in control if it. I had barely realized it had activated.

            With my body curled up, and lying on my side, I stared at the floorboards in front of me. I had killed someone without so much as laying a hand on them.

            I knew Ring Warlocks were powerful, but I hadn’t heard of this kind of magic before.

            “Oh, no,” the Warden playfully said, as though speaking to a child who had broken something. “Look what you’ve done.”

            After several inhales and exhales, I forced myself to stand. The agony of the life essence infused within my body was like trying to move when my skin was burned.

            “This is my magic?” I stared down at my sweaty palms, my vision blurring at the edges. The black ring on my thumb held my attention. The more things I killed, the faster I killed myself. “This almost feels like a curse.”

            “You’re the one who picked the six words,” the Warden said with a chuckle. “You wanted power—that’s what you got.”

            I glanced over at the withered bladekeeper.

            Even with no weapon, and no combat training, I had ended him. I supposed that was a kind of power, though it wasn’t necessarily the power I wanted when I had picked my words.

            Someone else came stomping through the hallway, heading straight for my room. More bladekeepers? Were they the old Ring Warlock’s personal guard? Had they been waiting outside for the warlock to finish with his courtesan?

            Would I… have to kill them, too?

            What if I couldn’t control the power? What if I killed one of the girls who dwelled in the Scarlet Lantern?

            What if the next few kills would be my limit? A tea cup could only hold so many rocks…

Chapter Three

“Once the light was shattered into a million pieces, all time began.

The felheen, titans of darkness, spawned from Axraksii.

The dayvu, titans of light, grew like maggots from Ozeon’s corpse.”

- A quote from ‘Varinth’s Beginnings, a History Book’

            The door slid open and I clenched my hands, preparing myself to use the magic Axraksii had gifted me.

            Another man stepped into the room, his breathing heavy. He was lankier than the bladekeeper, and wore a scholar’s robe made of silk. He also wore eyeglasses, both lenses perfectly round, the frame made of white ivory, which glistened in the streams of moonlight that illuminated the room.

            The man took a full thirty seconds to survey everything. His gaze fell to the Ring Warlock’s corpse, then to the bladekeeper’s, and finally upon me. I stood as straight as possible, my back to the corner of the room.

            For a prolonged moment, neither of us spoke.

            Something in the man’s attitude shifted. His posture relaxed, and he offered a hesitant smile. “Ah, I see there is a new Ring Warlock.” He knelt to one knee and then bowed his head.

            I…

            Hadn’t been expecting that.

            After a deep breath, I steeled myself to the possibility that this wouldn’t end in more death. However, even the act of inhaling caused me pain. The life essence I had stolen wasn’t going anywhere—it was like a live centipede was trapped in my gut, furious and clawing at my insides to find a way out.

            But I managed to push that imagery from my mind in order to have this conversation.

            “It was an accident,” I said.

            The man remained kneeling. “It matters not. You have the ring. You clearly possess magic. This is something to celebrate, yes?”

            I opened and closed my hands, trying to rid myself of my uncertainty.

            “You’re not angered?” I asked. “Aren’t you some sort of… guard? To the previous Ring Warlock?”

            The man never lifted his gaze to mine—he kept himself humbled.

            “I was Garrain’s personal advisor and historian,” he said. “My name is Ketsu of the family Sido.”

            “My name is Rimon. I’m… property of the Scarlet Lantern.”

            “Oh, sweet darkness.” Ketsu rubbed his eyes under his glasses, muttering something else I couldn’t hear under his breath. Finally, he took a deep breath and stood. “Well, Rimon-nox, you are clearly property no longer.”

            The honorific nox was reserved for lords and lawmakers. It was the second-highest honorific someone could use, just under the honorific of erah.

            No one had ever used it when speaking my name before. It momentarily struck me as both an honor, and foreign to my ears. Was this to become commonplace now? Would others use nox when referring to me? Or would my status as a killer and a lowly brothel house boy make that an impossibility?

            “The other Ring Warlocks will come for me, won’t they?” I asked.

            Ketsu gave me a curt nod. “Oh, yes. If word gets out of what happened, I’m confident they’ll swoop in as fast as possible. New Ring Warlocks have yet to master their magic, and during that time, they are quite vulnerable.”

            Just as I suspected.

            I grabbed my tunic and twisted my fingers into the fabric as I mulled over his statements. While it was true that my magic was new, it definitely wasn’t harmless. Anyone who came for me would regret it.

            But I would likely also die, either from their magic, or the limitations of my own.

            And I didn’t want that.

            “What should I do?” I whispered.

            As if waiting for me to ask for advice, Ketsu smiled, though he tried to hold it back. “We should leave this place at once and head back to Garrain’s castle estate. Well, that’s to say, your castle estate, yes? While protected within those walls, you can get your affairs in order and practice your magic as diligently as possible.”

            While I didn’t necessarily trust Ketsu—I had just met him—he was an educated man who clearly knew the ways of Ring Warlocks. Who else could I turn to? Fietta and the other courtesans knew as much as I did, and I was certain the owner of our brothel house would be enraged to hear I was now a Ring Warlock.

            “Garrain’s estate becomes my own?” I asked.

            “The emperor has granted certain privileges, properties, and right of governing to all those who wear rings. These holdings transfer with the possession of the ring.” Ketsu motioned to my thumb. “The owner of that ring is the owner of Wist Castle, and the ruler of the northern half of Rovik Prefecture. Which is to say—you are now the owner of Wist Castle.”

            “I see.”

            Then Ketsu gestures to the door. “Allow me to guide you there.”

            After steeling myself to the agony of movement, I walked toward the door. When I approached Ketsu, I tensed. If he knew Ring Warlocks were vulnerable, would he attempt to kill me? It would be easy to conceal a knife in his silk robes.

            He avoided making direct eye contact and instead bowed his head when I passed. I hated the thought of him walking behind me even more, so I stopped and pointed to the hall.

            “You first,” I commanded.

            “Certainly.”

            Ketsu quickly stepped ahead and then proceeded to hurry down the hallway.

            I followed, the sting of each movement flaring through my body. Why was the life essence so torturous? Was it because my body wasn’t designed to hold so much? I was meant for only one life, not to be the vessel for two men, a bird, a hundred insects, and a colony of mold.

            The lantern lights were still lit down the hallway. Once within their light, I noticed Ketsu had dark brown hair, which was quite different than I usually saw. He kept it shaved on the sides of his head, and long on top, tied back in a neat tail.

            When he reached the top of the stairs, he waited until I was close. Then he took them down, his steps quiet. I followed, but once we reached the bottom, I turned to the long hallway that led to the girl’s personal quarters.

            “Wait,” I said.

            Ketsu, who had headed for the front room, instantly stopped. Then he turned on his heel to face me. “Yes, Rimon-nox?”

            “I need to speak with the others.”

            Ketsu clasped his hands together. “I was going to speak with the owner of his fine establishment while you made yourself comfortable on the palanquin.”

            “We’ll do it together, and right now.”

            That obviously wasn’t Ketsu’s preferred outcome. He hesitated for a short moment before finally bowing his head and heading for the long hall. Instead of veering for the courtesan’s quarters, he headed for Lanin’s chambers.

            I didn’t care about Lanin. Instead, I slid open the door that led to the common room the women often used. As I suspected, five of them were gathered there—four of the oldest courtesans all surrounding Fietta.

            They had been whispering when I opened the door, but they became silent as I stepped into the room. Fietta was the first to jump to her feet. She wore a long night gown made of soft silk, that cascaded down her body all the way to the floor. When she rushed to me, it flowed behind her like a ghostly shadow.

            “Rimon-lin,” she said as she grabbed my hand. “I was so worried.”

            I nodded to her, my brow furrowed. “I’m sorry.”

            Then she jerked her hand away from mine. Fietta had accidently grazed the ring on my thumb. Her shock was more than evident.

            “What have you done?” Fietta whispered as she brought her gaze up to meet mine.

            Ketsu never made it to Lanin’s chambers. He had stopped halfway and lingered in the hallway. He glanced at me, and then the far door, and then back to me. His movements became more and more fidgety, as though he were growing anxious.

            “I need to leave,” I whispered to Fietta and the other women. “But I’ll be back. I promise.”

            “Why did you take the ring?” Fietta shook her head, frowning.

            “I had no choice. It was this or death.”

            Fietta stepped away from me. “They won’t allow you to keep it. The other Ring Warlocks… That ring was destined for the warlock’s heir. His family will hunt you. Allies of his family will call for your head. There is no peace with that ring, Rimon-lin.”

            “You’d rather they have executed me?” I asked.

            “N-No. Of course not. But…”

            She said nothing else.

            That was fine. I understood why she would be worried. But this path, no matter how fraught with danger, was better than death. I had been granted power, after all. Would it be enough? The ache in my body said I needed to learn how to use it, and fast.

            Lanin slid open his door and stormed into the hallway. He spotted me standing in the doorway to the woman’s common room, but his eyebrows shot upward across his massive forehead the instant he realized Ketsu was also here.

            “Oh,” Lanin said, putting on his best fake smile. “Is everything satisfactory so far?”

            Ketsu straightened himself. “Quite.” When he spoke, it was terse and cold, far differently than he had spoken to me. “But listen here, businessman—there are two bodies inside the second-story room. Discreetly dispose of them. If anyone asks, the Ring Warlock enjoyed his time here and left. Understood?”

            I stepped into the hall and slid the women’s door shut. Once I faced Lanin, he spotted my ring. I had never seen all the color drain from his face before.

            “Oh, no,” Lanin said, breathless. “The night has forsaken us.”

            Ketsu stepped between me and Lanin. He was reserved and icy in his demeanor. “There is no blood, no real evidence once the bodies are gone. Do yourself a favor and follow my instructions. Should anyone come to investigate, you don’t want them to know one of your servants was involved, do you?”

            That was enough to seemingly convince Lanin. He shook his head, pressed his lips together in a straight line, and then bowed his head to Ketsu—and then to me.

            With that, Ketsu turned on his heel to face me.

            “Come,” he said, gesturing toward the exit. “We’ve wasted enough time. We should leave while the darkness is still with us.”

            I allowed him to walk ahead, and then I followed. Neither Fietta or Lanin came to stop me. My body already hurt, but now my heart ached. I had been born in the Scarlet Lantern, and my only family dwelled within. Leaving them left me nervous—who else could I trust in this world?

            And Fietta’s words rattled in my mind.

            Would I never know peace now that I had stolen a bit of power?

            Ketsu slipped on his sandals before exiting. I would’ve done the same, but my sandals were set at the back door. Normally, I wasn’t allowed to be seen exiting the Scarlet Lantern from the front door.

            So I went outside barefoot.

            While the night air was crisp, and the darkness comforting, it was still hot. This summer had been agonizing for several weeks, and many feared the weather would not relent.

            “Here it is,” Ketsu said, pulling me from my thoughts.

            A palanquin waited for us in the middle of the road. It was basically a box-shaped room built upon a platform that sat atop two long wooden beams. The whole thing was carried on the shoulders of eight men. The room itself was made of lacquered wood, with two windows that were covered by bamboo screens. I had only seen small palanquins before—the ones used to transport a single person.

            This palanquin seemed suitable for three or four people to dwell within.

            The eight men—the porters—stood ready. They barely offered Ketsu or me a second glance, even as Ketsu untied a small rope ladder that led up to the palanquin’s door. Then he bowed and offered me to get in first.

            “You go,” I said, still unwilling to have him travel behind me.

            Ketsu didn’t argue. He stepped up the few rungs, opened the door, and made his way inside. The room’s floor was covered in pillows and blankets, and a few smaller tables were built into the walls, to allow for books or treats.

            A single lantern hung from the ceiling, the glass on the outside was stained a soft orange, so that the light resembled a sunset.

            I climbed up the ladder and then crawled into a corner of the room. A plush pillow was waiting to be used as seat. Once comfortable, Ketsu closed the door. Then he tapped on the back wall of the palanquin four times.

            The porters hefted the palanquin and began their march.

Chapter Four

“Exhausted from the battle, Axraksii needed to rest.

While he slept, the felheen and dayvu sought to end each other.”

- A quote from ‘Varinth’s Beginnings, a History Book’

            The stomp, stomp, stomp of the porters was perfectly rhythmic.

            The lantern in our palanquin room swayed back and forth, casting shadows that seemingly crawled up and down the walls. The orange hue from the stained glass was beautiful and dimmed enough that the light never bothered my eyes.

            After several minutes, the pain in my body felt more manageable. It was still present, but not as debilitating.

            A stray spider scurried from a corner of the room, and rushed between Ketsu and me. I was content to allow it to wander, but Ketsu bunched some of his sleeve in his palm and then lifted his hand, poised to squish the arachnid.

            “Wait,” I said as I held out a hand, shielding the spider. “Allow me.”

            Ketsu lifted an eyebrow and then lowered his arm.

            I laid out my hand in front of the spider, and remained still as it scampered onto my fingers. The creature was dark brown, its legs thick and hairy, and its body as large as my thumbnail. What fascinated me most was its eyes. They glittered in the lantern light.

            Beautiful.

            “What are you doing?” Ketsu asked, his voice restrained, like a parent who didn’t want to yell at their child in public.

            I carefully brought the spider to the window and then drew back the bamboo screen. The arachnid rushed out into the cool night air. It never bit me nor had it made any threatening gestures.

            The women at the Scarlet Lantern had often asked me to handle spiders when they made their way into their rooms. The creatures didn’t bother me.

            “There was no need to kill it,” I said.

            Ketsu removed his eyeglasses and then proceeded to clean them on his silk robes. “I assume you were taught to read with the Teachings of Shoki?”

            “That’s right. What of it?”

            Everyone in Rovik Prefecture was given a basic education using the Teachings of Shoki. It was book that contained tales and lessons meant for children, and it was rather insightful.

            “I’ve found most individuals who read the book are rather… How do I put this?” Ketsu placed his eyeglasses back on the bridge of his nose. “Soft.”

            “Shoki taught us benevolence,” I said. “The strong protect the weak. The strong create great things that help the community. The strong do not allow wanton destruction.”

            “Oh, sweet darkness,” Ketsu mumbled, his gaze falling to the floor.

            “I take it you disapprove?” I asked.

            Ketsu frowned. Then he lifted his eyes up to meet mine. “The other Ring Warlocks do not agree with such teachings. They create their own rules. Benevolence and helping the community are far from what they care about.”

            I already knew that.

            It was the reason I hated the Ring Warlocks—why I had little respect for them. They did whatever they wanted, took whatever they wanted, broke whatever they wanted. They were strong like a storm was strong—a destructive force of nature that was best avoided.

            The Teachings of Shoki stressed the need to build great things with one’s power.

            I hadn’t heard of the Ring Warlocks building anything. They developed magic, I knew that for certain, and they governed lands. What did those matter if they eventually just died? What would they leave behind other than suffering?

            “What do most Ring Warlocks strive for?” I asked.

            Ketsu forced a smile. “Whatever strikes their fancy. The emperor has granted them the highest authority.”

            “And it’s beneath me to act with benevolence?”

            “Ring Warlocks often come into conflict with one another,” Ketsu said matter-of-factly. “It would be best not to show any weakness. And benevolence can be seen as the ultimate frailty.”

            I didn’t see it that way, but I appreciated his insight into the others warlocks. I knew next to nothing about them.

            “What would you advise?” I asked.

            “I humbly suggest that you not mention Shoki, or any of his teachings, while in the presence of others. The less anyone knows of you, the better. The unknown is a wonderful shield to use against your enemies, after all.”

            The porters stomp, stomp, stomped over a hill, causing the palanquin to jostle about. The lantern swayed more than usual, and I braced myself on the wall while we covered the rough terrain.

            The narrow roads up the mountainside were the reason why carriages weren’t used outside of the cities. The oxen that pulled carriages were too large and cumbersome, and by having humans carry the palanquins, they could avoid the fallen rocks and tree branches that often dotting the pathways. Oxen occasionally fell, which could lead to them tumbling into the trees and taking the carriage with them.

            I was certain that, outside of the Tze Empire, there where places with many flat roads and plenty of carriages, but that wasn’t our reality.

            “Why are you helping me?” I asked as the palanquin evened out.

            Ketsu smoothed his scholarly robes. “You’re in need of a historian and advisor, are you not? I’m the perfect man for the position.”

            I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not upset by Garrain’s death? Angry that I murdered him?”

            “You murdered him?” Ketsu asked, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

            “Well,” I quickly said, “not entirely. It’s complicated. Regardless—don’t you despise me for his death? For this change of circumstance?”

            “No.” He shook his head. “I’m not upset in any way.”

            I waited, hoping he would elaborate, but the explanation remained locked behind sealed lips. However, I saw his answer as a troubling sign. Ketsu served under a man he had cared nothing for? Ketsu wasn’t someone born into the position—like I had been at the Scarlet Lantern—he was clearly an educated scholar who likely could’ve left Garrain’s estate, if he had wanted.

            Perhaps Ketsu sensed my reticence. He leaned forward until his glasses slid an inch down his nose. “Garrain will be mourned by exactly zero people. He was as sadistic as often as he was drunk.”

            “Oh,” I muttered. “I see.”

            Garrain had been very drunk upon entering the Scarlet Lantern.

            Ketsu leaned away, straightened his glasses, and then held himself tall. “I have love for the position, not the warlock. So, if you would allow me to swear fealty, I will happily, and humbly, offer you all the guidance and knowledge I’ve accumulated over my twenty-eight years of life.”

            “Oh, you better be careful,” the Warden whispered into my ear.

            The Warden’s presence startled me. I shivered and then rubbed the side of my neck, trying to soothe away my anxiety.

            “Your ring can only hold so many servants,” the Warden continued. “You don’t want to waste a tether on someone you care little about.”

            “A tether?” I whispered, so faint it was basically to myself.

            Ketsu lifted an eyebrow, but remained silent.

            The Warden darkly chuckled. “Your ring allows you to tether the free will of mortals. Those who swear to you will be bound by the ring—compelled to answer your commands, no matter how severe. But the depth of your magic determines the number of individuals you can tether.”

            On one hand, that sounded useful. If I knew Ketsu wasn’t going to betray me, I wouldn’t have to worry so much in his presence. On the other hand, it sounded extreme, perhaps cruel. Why tether someone like an animal?

            “The individual has to agree to such a fate,” the Warden said, as though he was privy to my inner thoughts. “And once bound, they will remain tethered for the rest of their life. But look on the bright side—once they die, you get that tether back.”

            That all made sense, I supposed.

            “You were… magically bound to Garrain?” I asked as I met Ketsu’s gaze.

            He stared at me through his circular eyeglasses. “I was. I felt Garrain’s magic fade while I waited for him outside the Scarlet Lantern. So did Refili. We knew something had happened to him.”

            “Who is Refili?”

            “The bladekeeper you killed.” Ketsu frowned. “I saw him dead on the floor of one of your rooms. I assume that was you who ended his life?”

            I grabbed my tunic and slowly nodded. I hadn’t known the man’s name. Not that it mattered—he had burst into the room ready to kill me. I had to defend myself.

            “Were there others bound to Garrain?” I asked.

            Ketsu shook his head. “Just Refili and I. Technically, Garrain once had others, but they were spies he had sent to keep watch over other Ring Warlocks. They never returned.”

            I mulled over the information, wondering what I was missing. Why would anyone bind themselves to a Ring Warlock? What did they get from the arrangement? Obviously, I gained a loyal servant. Did they gain protection? Wealth? Was I supposed to pay Ketsu for his servitude?

            “So, will you allow me to swear my fealty?” Ketsu asked.

            I exhaled, the orange light of lantern swaying steadily as we traveled over an easy portion of road.

            “What do you get out of this?” I asked.

            “He will get access to a fraction of your magic,” the Warden replied as a whisper in my ear.

            Ketsu, obviously unable to hear the strange voice, said, “I will be gifted some of whatever magic you possess. Additionally, I won’t have to uproot my life and leave the only home I’ve known for the last two decades.”

            I nodded once. “How many can swear to me?”

            Ketsu shook his head. “I don’t know. Garrain indicated that it fluctuated.”

            “You can tether three people to you currently,” the Warden whispered. “And one more per year you remain a Ring Warlock.”

            That didn’t seem like much. If I wanted to tether all the women at the Scarlet Lantern, and share with them my magic, I would have to wait seventeen years in order to do so. In the meantime, I clearly needed guidance. Not about magic—the Warden seemed willing to answer my questions about that—but about the world.

            Ketsu was clearly ready and willing to take up the role as guide.

            Perhaps I had some luck on my side.

            “Very well,” I muttered. “I’ll allow you to swear fealty.”

            Ketsu held out his hand. I stared at it, wondering if there was something I supposed to do to complete this ritual.

            “Give him your hand with your ring,” the Warden said.

            I did as he bade me, and I held out my right hand. Ketsu took it, and then bowed his head until his forehead touched the black ring. A surge of heat flared from the piece of jewelry and ran through my arm. I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to yank away.

            A moment later, all the heat vanished.

            In my mind, I felt the tether—a sting of life essence that went from Ketsu to the ring. Could all Ring Warlocks sense the tether? Or was power over life the reason why it seemed so tangible?

            Ketsu lifted his head and released my hand. “Thank you, Rimon-nox.”

            “I’m glad to have you, Ketsu-rah.”

            The honorific rah was used specifically for scholars or teachers of skill. Clearly, Ketsu was more educated than I, so rah seemed a fitting way to honor him when I spoke his name in conversation.

            For some reason, though, Ketsu’s expression hardened after I said.

            “Is something the matter?” I asked.

            Ketsu forced a smile as he said, “Ring Warlocks refer to those in their servitude as ves.”

            “I hate the honorific ves,” I stated plainly.

            I understood it was an honorific to show respect to the people you had ownership over, but I still hated it. The honorific was more a reminder to the world of one’s status as property, and I never cared for it.

            “Oh, you hate it, Rimon-ves?” the Warden sweetly asked. “You should be careful when you tell people the exact words that will agitate you. You’re just handing them a weapon and telling them not to stab you.”

            “It’s most proper for you to refer to me as Ketsu-ves,” Ketsu said, seemingly unconcerned with how it lowered his status. “To refer to me in any other way would give a false impression of my importance.”

            The palanquin jostled a bit and the lantern swung, moving the shadows over the walls.

            I braced myself in the corner and then shook my head. “Aren’t Ring Warlocks above most laws and rules?”

            “Yes,” Ketsu responded, almost as a question.

            “Then I’ll do whatever I please, Ketsu-rah.”

            The man stared at me, almost in disbelief. “I… Well… Thank you.” He practically whispered his words, like this was whole conversation was so surreal, he didn’t want to shatter it by speaking too loudly.

            “Thank you for helping me,” I said. “Your guidance is the only reason I’m here and not running through the city as a fugitive.”

READ THE NEXT CHAPTERS HERE.