Despite the Citadel's confirmed safety from the fires, there was a pair of guards at every exit. By the window, with the guards stationed there gone, Araan got a view of the flames in the distance; smoke rising from the hill and the surrounding areas high into false skies of the city-wide dome. It would be an extensive process to get rid of the heat and smoke but he doubted any of it would be enough to delay the burial.

  The threat had subsided and Araan remained in the outer hall. He was standing alone by the window. Dirakh had walked away after speaking to him. He was now standing by an elevator and back to watching everyone with almost obscene detail.

  He stared at everyone—the guards at the exits, including the ones by the elevator he was standing next to. His gaze shifted to the rulers and nobles exiting the floor or talking in groups, then to Araan, himself. When it landed on him, he looked confused; like he wasn't sure what expression to have.

  It just wasn't possible that Dirakh found nothing. It had to be the location, what he had found was too sensitive to be discussed here. Araan couldn't leave the citadel immediately, now that things had settled, but when it was safe, he would head to Nioa and ask him again.

  He faced the window and a familiar face caught his eye while he turned. He looked again, and it was him, Pilipe Vinid. Araan waved once and Pilipe came up to him.

  Most of House Vinid were scattered across the cities in the sector, functioning in the roles of unofficial monitors for the Lord Commander. For young Araan and the few others that lived in the capital, it meant they only met their cousins that one time of the cycle when their parents made reports.

  Pilipe was one of those cousins Araan often looked forward to seeing. In some ways he reminded him of Dirakh; both had their own unique way of reminding him of the things he needed to do.

  Older now, Pilipe carried a fat, naked youngling; one who, by its incessantly twitching askoras that was green instead of black, and the portable case-shaped hurson chamber it was carried in, was still in its bloated stage of life, maybe two or three cycles off the Pod Wall.

  It was already starting to look like him; the same large, angular head and narrowed chin. He was the shortest Vinid Araan knew, reaching him only by the shoulder. He made up for it in confidence and renown as a Sygad operative. He wore a red Life Armour with a long grey jacket modification that reached his black boots.

  “I didn't see you on my way in,” Araan said when Pilipe reached the window.

  “I wasn't here then,” came Pilipe's reply. Seeing Araan's look he added, “Baroness Tuola Iniji was amongst the meeting members, she's my bond-mate.”

  Araan's eyes widened in surprise then he smiled. “A bond-mate before you turn one hundred cycles old, we are the strangest generation of Vinids.”

  Araan's father didn't have a bond-mate, and like everyone who was born by that process, his mother hardly ever contacted him as ownership was contracted long before mating ever happened. She became a bond-mate after, to a High General in the Seventh Sector and when she counted her children they numbered three instead of four.

  Pilipe wasn't a child of bond-mates either, his contracted parent was his mother—most members of House Vinid were born that way. As prestigious as the family was, bond-mates ought to have been more common but House Vinid was different, heirs had to be theirs and theirs alone.

  As usual, Tisiryk, the most important heir, was the exception. Vorx Vinid was Miranna's bond-mate and it was by those life-long binding laws that she managed to keep Tisiryk after Vorx's death, and raise him on her own in Pomia.

  “Indeed,” Pilipe said with a gentle laugh and walked to the window. “Change is happening, even here, of all places.”

  Araan only smiled. He stared at the rising smoke for a while. “Would the Sygad be in charge of clearing that?”

  “The heat? More than likely. If they want it done before the burial, our methods would be best. The smoke wouldn't need clearing, the city is large enough and the fire's too small. Would you be there?”

  “At the burial?” Araan asked and Pilipe nodded. “Definitely.”

  “I was happy when I heard you left,” Pilipe said quietly. He eyed Araan's vambraces for a while. “I just wished that didn't have to happen before you did.”

  Araan kept watching the fires and Pilipe added, “Can I be blatant with you?”

  “Is there a time when you're not?”

  “The burial wouldn't be about you in any way. Just Tisiryk.”

  “I know.”

  “But do you?” the was a strain of concern in his voice. “There must be a piece of you that expects some gratification; some sign that the people see you, not just reverence for the office but for the occupier. That won't happen in this burial, they won't let it.”

  Araan looked at him. “I was barely seventy cycles old when it happened, I'm almost hundred now. Whatever validation I needed, I found it with the Trigad. I'm fine, Pilipe, I'm just here to pay my respects. Besides the people might surprise you.” He said the last part with a mischievous smile.

  “Oh?” Pilipe replied, perking up. “Do tell.”

  “There might have a praise chant for a certain Heralder that arrived sometime ago.”

  Pilipe laughed. “I heard rumors about that. I guess that's a kind of recognition.”

  “See? You don't have to worry.”

  As it happened, Baroness Iniji walked up to them then and introductions were made. Her outfit matched Pilipe's the same way their smiles formed when they saw each other. They were happy.

  For a moment, Araan let himself enjoy the view and the idea of having what they had. The baroness asked if he was interested in having a bond-mate in the near future.

  “It is a thought I have entertained,” Araan replied honestly. Anyone seeing them only needed little convincing.

  The meeting was over, the burial was next; after that, he was going to be left alone,and he would make the best of it. The investigation was crucial and if he wanted to be effective he would have to focus on it entirely. But for now, until the burial was over, he would relax.

  Just as soon as that thought settled, he was startled by Pilipe's words about the entire floor where Araan's former chamber was also being sealed off indefinitely. It was the floor right after the sealed off area so perhaps that was their reason. Baroness Iniji's talk about rumors of workers and guards going unconscious and having visions on that same floor didn't help matters. Still Araan ignored it all the same.

  His eldfather was a great Lord Commander, yes, but there couldn't be that many conspiracies around one cyperan's death.

  ■

  “Do you stare at him so often, Commander Aratund?” Pors asked. He dismissed the guards by the elevator for privacy.

  “He's going to find out something's wrong, you know,” Dirakh replied, not taking his eyes off him. Araan tried not to look in Dirakh's direction but he failed from time to time.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  He wasn't oblivious, Dirakh knew that much. His answer wasn't enough to quell him. Not only that, Dirakh wasn't used to this dynamic; Araan was the one who usually kept secrets and Dirakh was the one who always found out. It was one of the many reasons he felt uncomfortable with this plan.

  “No one is trying to hide anything from the Lord Redinan,” Captain Pors said. “We will tell him after.”

  “If he asks again, I won't deny it.”

  “Yes, you will,” Pors replied, brutely. He walked around Dirakh till he stood in front of him, aiming to block his view. “You have no other choice.”

  Dirakh's locked eyes with the old guard in response. “I'm not one to be ordered around, Captain Pors. Araan doesn't want this establishment you all are planning, he hates everything this sector reminds him of. A word from me about any of this and the reason he's still here, his interests in finding Dund's killer, your plans, everything disappears. One word.”

  Pors tensed visibly but persevered. “Why didn't you dare say this at the Tower where the others were?”

  “Because I wasn't so close to my Mantle Armour, because I still needed you.” Dirakh felt his side under the cadmani of the armour. The wound was gone without any residual pain or extra hardness from natural healing. Dirakh was whole but it felt so wrong that he was.

  “I won't let you tell him.”

  “Give me a reason not to,” Dirakh replied. Pors looked at him confused and Dirakh continued. “The others will not say anything, so you'll tell me what I need to know.”

  “What exactly do you need to know?” Pors questioned.

  “I need proof that I'm not mad for even considering this.”

  Proof that I'm different from the eighteen at the market, he thought.

  Pors didn't argue so Dirakh asked. “How many nobles know about the burial... 'activities'?”

  “Much more than you think.”

  “That's not an answer.”

  “More than half of today's council and many others.”

  “How many know the truth about the Oath Tower and the power of the Alpha-Redinan?”

  “There isn't one clear answer to that. It is, for the most part, an open secret; all of Kolvak and the Thirteenth Sector know of the presage and the Lord Redinan's role in its prevention. The details are blurred, however.”

  “So why hide it from the rest of us? The prophecy, the power, the technology, all of it. The growth of the Empire and the cyperan race is so rapid because nothing like this is ever hidden.” All those tales of hidden agendas he'd often heard about the Thirteenth Sector didn't sound like just tales anymore.

  “How can you see everything and still not understand? One Krystal was discovered and a market was destroyed, countless cyperans dead. All in just three micro-seikans. What do you think would happen if every noble in every sector knew about it?

  “You say nothing is hidden because you have never seen the truth about the world, just what you're allowed to know. Only the powerful know secret things and they keep their status because they hide the secrets well enough. Do we have to worry about your secrecy on that front? Because High Commander or no, you will be killed.” The threat didn't really need to be said but guards weren't exactly masters of nuances.

  Dirakh wasn't naive, he knew order was needed for the World Empire to remain whole and secrets had to be kept because of that. His line of questioning was supposed to give him an escape route, a reason to feel like he couldn't prevent the chaos that would be unleashed at the burial.

  People were going to die, he knew how and where. This wasn't the Trigad, a command wasn't enough; to standby and do nothing, he needed a reason. Pors had given him one and it sounded stupid. Even the threat didn't seem like much.

  It wasn't out of some new found love for the people of Kolvak. Despite finding more truths than Araan ever let on about his past, he didn't feel anything for the people or the nobles that would die there.

  He cared because he had been in such a position many times before, as an innocent youngling involuntarily drawn into a war that wasn't his. His mother and he were forced to become exiles for his father's failures, and then there was their death at the hands of Scavengers. He was lucky to have been out of sight, Scavengers didn't care what age you were when they slaughtered innocents.

  There wouldn't be any kind of luck at the burial, that much was certain. They wouldn't even know till it was too late.

  This isn't working, he thought angrily.

  Dirakh opened the elevator door and walked in without another question. Pors followed him. There was silence for a moment as the elevator headed downwards. Pors watched him at first; halfway through, however, he spoke.

  “For a while now, I've been worried there wouldn't be anything left of him by the time it is all done. I've raised the issue with the Oath Generals and high ranking members of the Redinan Army. They will see to it that he doesn't blame himself for this.”

  He seemed to think that was assuring and Dirakh let out a laugh for it.

  “What is funny?” Pors snapped.

  “Where does your loyalty lie Captain Pors or are you all just that stupid?” Dirakh asked him flatly as he rested his back in the elevator wall.

  If the older cyperan had any askora, they would have been flailing by now. “Who do you think you are to question my loyalty?”

  “A noble ordered eighteen cyperans to kill themselves after they murdered everyone at the market and that noble expected it to be done without question. Do you really think your leaders care about a guard's worries? The same leaders who forced him into a role he had refused?

  “You're either a fool who doesn't see he's a means to an end or your loyalty to the Vinids is a lie. Because one thing is certain, Araan is going to destroy himself when this is all over. You and everyone else at that damned Tower are the ones responsible for it.”

  Pors slammed a fist into the wall of the descending elevator. Dirakh was surprised. That was a lot coming from a trained guard.

  “You think you know everything about Lord Vinid,” Pors voice dropped to a growl. “Because you've spent twenty something cycles with him, you think you are the only one loyal here. Where were you when those scars formed? Who do you think was present at the height of his pain?

  “Commander Jayk Vinid treated my son like his own in the Sygad, and all I could do was watch the one thing he didn't want for his own son unfold. I mourned like I lost everything and you dare question

  my loyalty.”

  Pors walked up close to Dirakh, looking at the yellow cyperan in the eye. “You foreigners are oblivious, you all believe we serve because of control or reward. We're not you, we want to serve our Lord Commander.” His face loosened a bit after that. Talking seemed to calm him enough to let go of Dirakh.

  There was shock on Dirakh's face by the end of it. The insults meant nothing to him but the declarations and the rest of what he'd said...

  I've been asking the wrong questions, Dirakh thought as he stood straight.

  Captain Pors walked back to the opposite end and rested on the wall there, muttering under his breath angrily. He still seemed unsettled but Dirakh pressed. “You know more than you're telling me and you're hiding it from the General and the Predictors at the Tower.”

  “What?”

  “In Trigad, few bother with the politics but when it comes to discerning behaviors of the living, we are all masters at it. You hate this plan more than I do, you just proved that. But you're going along with everything.” Pors didn't challenge him.

  “It's not duty,” Dirakh continued, “I was wrong there. You are loyal to the Vinids and one or some of them is asking for Araan to reign as Lord Redinan. And it's a Vinid you can't disregard.”

  “A dead one,” said Captain Pors.

  “Dund Vinid?” The elevator stopped but no one walked out. “He asked for Araan's establishment? Why would he want that?”

  “They say they found him by the foot of the Citadel below the hole in the sealed off area. The truth is he didn't fall, I put him there because he asked me to. I was the last to see him alive. I think the Predictors know and that it's the reason they still keep a lowly Captain Guard like me informed. They believe I know something they don't.”

  “Are they wrong?”

  Pors shook his head. “I saw what killed the Lord Commander, all I had to do was look up. The tales call them Ka'nkreva... It means Walking Lifestar in the Dead Language. I have never seen anything look like its translation so literally. It walked upright like we cyperans do but its power, we don't have anything that could replicate it. I have heard the Predictors and the Oath Generals call it another name: Menaphmecri.”

  “What is that?”

  “I don't know, it's not of the Dead Language.”

  Ka'nkreva, the walking sun. Giving a name to a new creature always helped focus things, at least in the Trigad. Naming happened after they took one down, after they were certain there was a way to beat it. Most of all, they were naming just another creature of the Second World. Not new, just previously undiscovered.

  Ka'nkreva was none of those things. Burvan and the generals showed him the presage in Tower; it said the threat wasn't of this world, that nothing that could kill the living could harm it, only an Alpha-Redinan could defeat Ka'nkreva.

  And there's only one Araan. How does that make any sense?

  The Oath Tower. All they knew was the broken Krystal meant a possibility of it being here and Burvan's melted footprint raised cause for alarm. They were still unsure. How could they prepare Araan if they weren't prepared themselves? Questions weren't forming in his mind, not ones he nor Pors could provide answers to, anyways.

  Pors broke the silence this time. “He followed sacred custom and died alone. He was bleeding all over, body broken and he still had the clarity of mind to do what was demanded of him. That was the Lord Commander that ordered me to stay silent. He told me not to trust anyone and to summon the Lord Redinan immediately as quietly as I could.”

  Dirakh's eyes widened at that.

  “So you know of it. Yes, he ordered that too,” Pors continued. “That's why I'm asking you to believe in him like I do. The presage has become reality, this burial has to happen the way generals have decided.

  “It's either that or we become the easiest prey history has ever seen.”