Arc III

Chapter XIX

Poisoning the Well

Part I

"There's a lot you don't know.

There's a lot I can't tell.

Would you think I'm crazy

If you knew me that well?"

The Pierces – Save Me.

The ferocious voices roaming inside each cell in that cold, obscure dungeon were less than cheering. Yet his ears, quickly submitted to the sounds of taunting remarks, were being massaged by the prestige of someone who knows himself superior: his own inalterable ego, wrapping him in a comfortable blanket of easiness, was the only anchor he needed at the time that required calm. Patience was a virtue he had nurtured all over the years, he knew. Adaptable had always been a word that could describe him in all his entirety.

The mercenary stretched his legs and walked towards the dark metal bars separating his captive body from the outside. He would go, see the Kahn, tell his story, and that night he had had to spend making up all sorts of insults inside that putrid cell would become just another bitter memory for him, soon to be lost in the oceanic amount of forgettable days he had already lived. One more pearl to be added to the bittersweet, heavy necklace that his days as a prisoner had formed around his neck – each shiny bead a painful memory.

Back in Earthrealm. Before eternity.

"It's time."

The Zaterran opened the door and ushered him out, his hands were still handcuffed and behind his back. Reptile grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, the blanket covering his naked torso slipping through the green claws.

Enforcers on parade, or so it seemed – their images blended together with the sardonic smiles of the inmates watching the scene with avid eyes. All ingredients adding to the fatal equation: something was not right and, certain as a riot about to explode, the presence of an imprisoned Black was building up the notion - the Earthrealmer was going down.

Sweet revenge; the ultimate prize they had been waiting for, was finally occurring.

As the Earthrealmer walked past each cell, the inmates taunting him on the other side of the dark bars seemed joyful enough to sing songs about death and retribution. He was responsible for their predicament, after all – now, watching the fallen enforcer walking down the same corridors that had led to their doom seemed thrilling enough to forget, even if only momentarily, that they were prisoners as well, trapped inside that depressing dungeon; deprived of that previous liberty they had enjoyed until the Earthrealmer decided it was high time he took it away from them. The day had finally arrived, the bastard that had imprisoned them, the one they had killed countless times in their wildest dreams had been lowered to their same disgusting, repulsive level; and it was as accelerating as well as it was exciting.

The prisoners, with their eyes glued to his handcuffed wrists, were reminding the gunslinger that judgment day was approaching him, certain and unavoidable like a new morning always follows after a long, dark night.

Half-smiles and dirty words were longing to find him, lacerate his spirit and tarnishing his soul."What's wrong, man cow?" One of the inmates jibed loudly as Black walked past his cell. His arms intertwined in the bars, his broad smile exposing the few scattered teeth that were still attached to his mouth.

"It's cowboy, asshole," the mercenary jeered back, a half smile curling up his upper lip even if involuntarily.

"Are you one of us now, Earthrealmer?" Another prisoner gushed rather ironically.

Yet the ever-distant cowboy kept on marching through the corridor, escorted by the visibly fed up Zaterran, never making eye-contact and trying his best not to fall for the easy jokes, not to react, not to unleash the beast dwelling inside; the one being constantly nagged and insulted by each irascible comment thrown his way. He held his head up high, careful of his surroundings yet marching with a clear destination like a proud, strong stallion aiming for the finish line – never distracted by the nimieties of those nefarious voices, never giving in; never surrendering to their miserable kind of delight.

"You should be so lucky," Black mumbled to himself, the elocution barely audible. He narrowed his eyes in discontent and spat disdainfully at the dantesque sight he was being forced to witness – his disrespectful saliva acted as a mere reminder for everyone trying to state the obvious: even if he had been the one responsible for their lack of freedom; he still was untouchable – even now, when the tables seemed to be turning, when the odds were ceasing to smile in his direction.

Just like the night before, many curious eyes gazed at him as he made his way to the Throne Room: there were mostly maids in the crowd, visibly satisfied with the image of a subjugated Black after having to suffer from the effects of his Mesozoic views on the weaker sex on multiple occasions yet could it be true? The man with the reputation, the foreign one, the loner: was it all true? Had he killed a man outside his duty?

Marching just a few feet away from him, M'horel was also being escorted. They both were going to see the Kahn together, or so it seemed. They would have to face each other only to throw more lies in the fire in order to save their skins. There was a well-rounded balance to the dance they were about to do; an intrinsically yet bewildering balance keeping the scales in a sacred parsimony of equality: he was one of the Kahn's men, that much was true. Yet he was an Earthrealmer, and he had been accused of murdering an Outworlder. The other man was not as close to the Emperor as he was, yet he was an official guard nonetheless and he was an Outworlder.

To the eyes of justice, they were equals.

To the eyes of the countless strangers that had gathered to watch the impending showdown, he was just an alien, threatening element that had been forced into their community. The contrasting sights were clearly speaking for themselves: M'horel was the legitimate prodigal son – Black instead, was nothing but an imposition.

The mercenary looked over his shoulder to examine his rival: both their bodies were bruised and scarred after the fight that had taken place the night before yet as soon as the doors opened, Black's eyes found a surprising anchor in his wife's saddened gaze. If his battered look alone was reason enough for his wife to understand what a terrible night he had endured, her wounded image as well, in perfect concordance with the deep-rooted anguish in her emerald gaze, were reason enough for the man to see that she hadn't had it any better than he.

She outstretched her hands, trying to reach for him but to no avail. The wall of people separating her body from his was nearly impenetrable, stoically keeping them apart – the singularity of brown meeting emerald was the only bridge uniting them, even if in a merely tacit way.

Black tried to maintain eye contact for as long as he could but Reptile grabbed him by his left forearm, forcing him to turn around. His back and torso were still covered by the blanket that the Zaterran had provided him with the night before. The elements of his methodic disguise were nowhere to be found: his hat and his mask, those carefully chosen companions that had succeeded time and time again at hiding his emotions were still in his room so he was bound to meet the emperor with nothing but his skin and his bones; his naked façade composed by feelings and emotions was about to be shamelessly exposed to those eager eyes waiting for carnage to consume their animalistic souls – the effort would have to be supreme then, nearly unprecedented. He would have to try his best to remain focused; his features turning into a solid wall made by thick bricks of impenetrable indifference. His eyes, the lighthouses of his every motive and pulsation were about to become simply inscrutable for his expressions to stay neutral.

Yet the surprise of finding Zar there, her slender figure nearly lost in the hungry crowd, was forcing him to look over his shoulder as if looking for some unspoken sympathy; as if trying to make sure she was alright.

Zarrabayeusse's head had been dressed with gauzes though traces of dried blood could be seen through the thin, porous fabric. She was wearing a large, long-sleeved white tunic, the one that all patients are given as soon as they entered the infirmary. There were dark orbs underneath her reddened eyes; her green irises were nearly transparent – her pupils were dilated, leaving little room for the emerald to shine through. Her olive skin looked significantly paler than usual – a tall, young nurse was holding her up: it was clear that Zar had talked the woman into accompanying her to the hearing – and to think that he had tried to use her as an excuse to save his own skin. Now, the outcome of all his twisted innuendos and rhetorical subplots were displayed before his eyes: one woman was missing; the other had been attacked.

"Being with you and being without you have become equally torturing situations," her saddened voice, whispered through the untamable veil of time, was echoing through the distance and damaging his perplexed emotions.

"Hurry, Black. Make yourself presentable," the Zaterran enforcer groaned as he handed him a sleeveless black tunic – the mercenary put it on rather disdainfully, fed up by mere formalities and empty rituals: they wanted the beast to look casually presentable for the circus that was surely going to entertain their boring lives for a little while; so be it. He would give them one. He would play by their rules. Mockery reflected all over his face, the cowboy gazed back at Reptile with a satisfied half-grin and the Zaterran rolled his eyes in discontent. As he sat down at the table they had placed right before the throne, he looked over his shoulder once more, trying to find his wife. Is it true? She asked him soundlessly, her mouth surrendering to the worried motion of her words – yet the mercenary looked down, unable to answer and feeling how a sudden sense of guilt began to wrap his entire body in its asphyxiating halo of anticipation and profound self-loathing.

Noticing Black's undeniable inability to maintain eye-contact, Zarrabayeusse lowered her head – a deeper sort of hopelessness engulfed her then, making her feel utterly helpless and already deprived of that little, unstable thread of hope she had been fruitlessly trying to hold on to: it was true, the rumors surrounding him were certain. Yet the only thought inside her head and the only wish inside her heart were talking about the same thing – perhaps the night had served him well; maybe he had had the time to craft an elaborate cobweb of lies that could save him.

Perhaps, she prayed.

Maybe.

M'horel and his escort followed shortly after Black. The claimant guard sat down right next to the accused enforcer yet both parts of the confrontation were visibly too absorbed in their own matters to even exchange looks or simply show their lack of sympathy towards one another. The chorus of voices talking about rumors, gossip and improbable anecdotes suffocating the atmosphere of the already heated room halted suddenly as the Emperor's figure became clear - the Osh Tekk approached the multitude and beckoned them before retreating quietly to the calmer zone of the room. He sat back on the large ornamented throne; his eyes were already venturing those faces waiting for an absolution right in front of him. Reptile and the other guard were standing behind the confronters, both guarding companions had bewildered looks upon their faces, just like the rest of the anonymous crowd: it was true, after all, that not every day one could get the unparalleled chance of seeing one of the closest men to the emperor being accused of committing such a horrible crime.

After a brief moment of silence those voices began to roar again; louder this time, as if the impatience encysted in their words could not be contained any longer.

"Quiet," the emperor commanded, raising his right hand with stern authority. "I would like to hear both sides of the story," he said once the crowd was silent, his eyes wandering from Black to M'horel. With sheer intensity, Kotal was asking Black to defend himself from the accusations of an ordinary guard – yet even though the Kahn's interrogation had been certainly aimed for Black to restore his jeopardized reputation, the gunslinger seemed to pay no mind.

"Ladies first," Black cooed ironically, as his handcuffed hands motioned lightly to produce a rather playful reverence towards an exasperated M'horel.

"Black!" Reptile hissed, slapping the daring cowboy across the face abruptly. Black caressed his reddened cheek with his fingertips, patiently yet visibly amused by the guard's severe reaction. His parsimonious digits were awakening the sore, stinging sensation left by the Zaterran on his skin – Black eyed him speculatively and dismissed his angry comrade with a simple gesture of his hand – besides being bruised and battered from the night before, and still suffering from the symptoms of a hangover that had no visible plans of leaving him be, the distressed cowboy was determined to keep a façade of false bravery in front of his opponent.

"I'm just saying – attacking someone in the darkness and beating up a defenseless woman doesn't seem all too manly to me," his words had been aimed for the Emperor's ears yet the gunslinger shifted in his chair, slightly, trying to engage the improvised crowd with his taunting remarks.

The accuser sighed loudly, exasperated by Black's disrespectful manners. He wanted him to be the one to talk, and talking was exactly what he had intended to do.

"My name is M'horel, my emperor," the guard began respectfully; his concerned look trying to reach for the more merciful side of the Kahn. "I'm the eldest son of the Ssui-'Pcha house. I've been working as a guard here for the past thirteen years of my life – I've served you, my emperor, I have accompanied your rightful cause." He stood up and raised his voice, his demanding tone reverberating all across the room: "I accuse this man of murdering my younger brother Pareedis: the mutilated body you found in the Marketplace – your enforcer known as Erron Black decapitated him, outside of his duty, abusing his power."

The Kahn's eyes quickly scanned the cowboy's unreadable expressions trying to find a satisfactory answer – yet each muscle in Erron's face was not to be deterred by the heated words that had just propelled from the guard's throat.

"Is this accusation true?" the Kahn inquired, his pensive irises seeking for an obvious truth.

There was no point in denying what had already been implied by his own, foolish impulses.

"Yes."

The simple yet final elocution was enough to wrap up the whole room in a blanket of profound silence. Kotal Kahn stood up, stupefied by Black's brutal sense of honesty – the emperor leaned closer, he was at a loss for words yet his eyes were begging the former Earthrealmer for a more consistent explanation.

"I did it. I murdered his brother," Black confirmed bluntly, "but the bastard had it comin' – he killed someone as well, someone I held dear." Not that his words were suddenly justifying his actions, but he had opened a new door that was pleading to be explored. Suddenly that mutilated body was no longer a martyr: it was a beacon of violence and retribution.

"Revenge?" The Kahn seemed to ponder out loud even though his lips had barely mumbled the word for himself. Kotal took a moment to reconsider the situation, his mind raging with catastrophic conclusions, then the Osh-Tekk narrowed his eyes and demurred: "you murdered a man outside your duties because you were driven by revenge? You work for the Emperor; the rightful laws of Outworld are by your side – you're the one responsible for providing our citizens with the justice they so desperately need… you could have captured the man, bring him over, place him in front of a Tribunal – instead you became his judge and his executioner. You had no right to do so,"

"I had every right!" Black stood up abruptly, his raging feet quickly kicking the chair away from him.

"Explain yourself to me, then," the Kahn roared, getting tired of their empty vociferations. He needed substance – he needed the truth.

Upon picking up the chair and placing it back where it belonged, Reptile grabbed Black by the shoulders and forced him to sit back down – his hands were still handcuffed yet the uncontained fury that was running through his veins was enough to make him feel as if he was strong enough to break free from those filthy chains restraining the majority of his movements.

"These men have been trying to get to me, and eventually they did," the cowboy began, staring right back at M'horel for the first time since entering the Throne Room. "They have done me wrong, Emperor. They were the ones who found me when I went missing, nearly bleeding to death. But instead of bringing me back to the Palace they kept me captive, knowing that you were still searching for my dead body. They tended to my wounds, knowing that you would pay more money if I was found alive. They speculated with my life and my welfare, they were actively pursuing some sort of monetary reward in exchange. When I discovered their plans I ran away and made my own way back home. They have been seeking retribution ever since,"

The mercenary's words, far from being soothing, were an incandescent blaze igniting the emperor's temper. The Kahn took a step forward before approaching a visibly perplexed M'horel: it was obvious that the guard was not expecting Black to be so honest about everything they had been through since the very beginning of their confrontation – instead, he had been expecting to find a pointless pantomime on the treacherous cowboy's part. Kotal leaned in, resting his muscular forearms on the table – his undivided attention was aimed at M'horel:

"So, I understand you're a Rebel-Seeker," the emperor commented upon processing Black's speech minutely. His tone was calm yet the storm gathering inside his eyes was about to unleash the utmost deafening thunder.

"Yes. And so was my late brother."

Black's eyes nearly popped up in complete bewilderment: it was official then, the Rebel-Seekers were real, they had been graciously endorsed by the Emperor himself. Angry and consternated, the agitated gunslinger cleared his throat before questioning the Kahn: "Why didn't you tell us?" He didn't dare to make eye contact with his employer yet the halo of reproach encysted in his baritone voice was deeper than the bitter look that had taken over his face - "We had a right to know!" the mercenary demanded, clearly let down by the emperor's misdirected secrecy. Kotal Kahn moved away from the table and sat back down on his throne quietly: his politics had just been submitted to questionings he couldn't afford to face. That fragile peace they had achieved was definitely worth preserving – his authority couldn't be threatened so easily, least of all by an Earthrealmer.

"Excuse me but… what exactly is a Rebel-Seeker?" Reptile inquired timidly, feeling left out of the conversation.

They are your regular neighbors. Not your neighbors, you live in the palace… They are the Outworlders that are trying to make ends meet by all means. They know stealing fruit or a piece of bread ends with their heads in a basket so they chose to go the other way – your way.

Her memory, latent and eternal on his mind, was forcing him to chase after that face of hers. Her every word, sharp and final as usual, chastising him with the force of a devastating hurricane.

They mostly chase down the remaining Tarkatans that hide in the Kuatan Jungle, capture them alive then bring them to the emperor. He pays them in return.

Her silhouette in the candlelight, vivid and ever so pristine, was forcing the weary man to narrow his eyes as if trying to trace her invisible outline lingering somewhere near him.

Now imagine - if a Tarkatan is worth a handful of coins, you are a ticket to paradise.

Paradise. If only.

Coffee-colored eyes focused on the pensive expression reflected all over the emperor's face but Black remained silent, aware of Reptile's interrogation yet seemingly paying no mind: it was not his job to fill him in, after all. Defiant, the cowboy's seemingly impervious stare stayed focused on the emperor as if challenging the ruler of Outworld himself to come clean about the mess he had created with his bare hands. The ill nature of Black's silent reprobation, shining through his made-up tranquility. Suddenly it was about Kotal - the emperor's shortcomings were the only things submitted to the public eye, waiting to be judged.

"I don't have to tell you everything I do, I'm the emperor," Kotal said rather calmly after a while, his mind already regretting the sinful simplicity carried by his polemic statement. The Kahn stood up, walked around the table and placed one of his hands on the Zaterran's shoulder: "I thought the implementation of the Rebel-Seekers initiative was going to be a good thing for everyone – the citizens would get their chance to stand up for themselves and they would be paid in return; they were supposed to make your job easier - that spare time you were begging me for should have been a reality. But they have gone the wrong way, or so it seems," Kotal made a long pause; the question in his eyes was evident, "this situation renders me speechless – for the first time, I don't know what to do."

The crowd, sheltered in a deeper silence now, had suddenly turned into a monumentally high wall for the Kahn to climb all on his own: he had built his own intricate maze and now he was lost in it, overwhelmed by its crazed patterns made of countless treacherous ravines, nooks, and crannies.

They were expecting to be thrilled by the carnival of a potential bloodbath but, in return, they had been given a nearly helpless ruler.

Trying to find a way out, the Kahn turned his attention back to M'horel: "Once you lost Black, why didn't you stop?" the emperor questioned the man yet the only answer he found was guilt and regret in the young guard's eyes. An affected M'horel lowered his head, unable to maintain that burning eye-contact offered by Kotal Kahn himself; the bridge between employer and employee had been burnt down. "I put my trust in you but you merely toyed with it. You abused my every intention and now you dare come here and accuse Black of abusing his power. It seems to me we all have transgressed our own limits one way or another, and now we are all to blame for surrendering to such low acts of impertinence," Kotal sentenced, his voice suddenly turning darker than usual.

"You made promises that you knew you couldn't keep!" M'horel fought back violently, his agitated heart trying hard not to give in.

Cornered by the disrespectful guard's renewed accusation, the troubled Kahn had no choice but to widen his eyes in surprise: floating around the room, the word "trial" was being whispered – the people, talking on corners, were demanding a new course of action. Their voices were getting louder almost in unison. Fearing a riot was about to take place right before his stupefied eyes, Reptile immediately tried to calm them all down but his efforts were to no avail – the agitated crowd had made its choice: they wanted to know, they needed to know – the problem displayed right in front of their curious eyes was much bigger than what they had thought.

"Quiet, all of you!" Kotal Kahn yelled, trying to talk some sense into them: "Black is not eligible for trial: he's not an Outworlder and he has already confessed to being guilty of the crime of assassinating this man's brother." Standing in the center of the room, right in front of the table, the Kahn ordered: "Both of you, on your knees."

Reptile removed the chairs so they could kneel before the emperor – in a matter of seconds, two more guards entered the room and removed the table, the little space separating the emperor from the two men now waiting for a resolution seemed to have stretched itself in time and distance.

"Empty the room," Kotal ordered Reptile in a low tone, never losing sight of the two men that had played with his trust.

"Let her stay," the mercenary demanded as he looked over his shoulder to meet his wife's worried eyes.

Reptile looked at the woman as well: he remembered her from the previous night; M'horel had attacked her – the results of their interaction were exhibited before their eyes for everyone to see, "Black, you heard the Kahn: this won't be a trial, there's no need for witnesses to remain here," the Zaterran stated sharply as he beckoned and guided the people out, trying to force them all into leaving the Throne Room as quickly as possible.

"She's not just a witness, emperor," Black begged, "she's more than just the living testimony of this man's cruel attack: she is my wife."

Kotal and M'horel locked eyes in incredulous surprise: the cold-hearted mercenary was a married man.

"Close the door," Kotal Kahn ordered as he turned around and walked towards Zarrabayeusse – the damaged woman stood still in the presence of the visibly puzzled emperor, the young nurse that was still watching over her was completely covered by the Kahn's menacing shadow. The emperor's eyes, narrowed and clouded by this new, bittersweet doubt, were reaching out for her. The crowd had disappeared by now, they were finally alone. As the Zaterran enforcer closed the copper-colored gates behind him a nearly whispered line escaped the Kahn's lips as he looked over his shoulder, the innuendo aiming for Black: "This cannot be – I remember everything… your problems with the ladies, how you mistreated and abused every female maid and companion that has ever walked through these corridors; now it turns out you're a married man?" He asked as he turned around slightly, forcing Black to meet his incredulous eyes but the Earthrealmer remained silent, knowing that his confession had opened the very door that he had tried to keep locked down for so long.

Accepting his silence as an unspoken affirmation, the emperor went on:

"Then how could you accept her as your lackey?" A nearly frustrated Kotal asked, struggling for understanding. "How could you ever lower your own wife to such a basal state?" the emperor mumbled, his severe and cold stare was trying to find a crack in that wall made of flesh and bone kneeling down just inches away from him. "She is…"

The thought was simply too morbid to be said out loud.

"Aalem's aunt," Black finished for him. Simplicity and coldness adorned his words as if trying to lessen the shock of the surprise he had brought upon the emperor.

He couldn't say exactly why he needed her there – perhaps fear of the unknown was reason enough for him to want her near. Truth was that she was his strongest weapon against M'horel: her wounds and scars alone could be powerful enough to melt the Kahn's merciless heart and grant him an advantage over his unexpected opponent. Yet there was something more, something other than mere strategies and tactics: he had thought it would be easy; fooling the Kahn into buying yet another one of his stories - but the man kneeling down right next to him was putting up a good fight. He had already revealed much more than he could handle, had said so much more than he had initially planned – her emerald eyes, and the tender affection they were projecting towards him were making him feel that he wasn't entirely alone; that no matter what was to come, she would stand by his side.

"And you had no objections whatsoever?" The emperor inquired Zarrabayeusse, still trying to understand. "You embraced this life he offered you – as his lackey, even when you were his wife?"

Zarrabayeusse nodded in silence, ashamed, unable to let the words flow freely.

"I understand that the bond between husband and wife has its own particular dynamics; I also believe said bond to be holy, even sacrosanct no matter if our beliefs differ – but still, may I ask you why?" Candor in his voice, his expression softened as he moved closer to question the wounded woman.

"I wanted to be near him," she finally managed to say, "and by being near him, perhaps I would be able to reunite myself with the only relative I have left, my Kahn," she lowered her head to avoid eye contact as the nurse moved closer, holding her up by her shoulders.

"Aalem," the Kahn whispered. The name alone was reason enough for the mercenary to fall apart no matter how hard he was trying to keep a straight face.

The woman nodded.

"But he is not here – not anymore. I trusted you were well aware of this," the emperor stated quite simply.

"I was, my Kahn," Zar began to explain, "but Erron and Aalem are close – very close; they have always been. Just by being near this man I already feel closer to my nephew," she ventured the room and placed her delicate hands on Black's shoulders – the warmth of her touch reaching for him as if trying to invoke his most sensitive side. Moved and consternated, the Kahn called out for Reptile. The Zaterran reappeared in just a matter of seconds, the worried look on his face was still there; the shadows of that particular doubt were persistent, creating a brand new tension between the enforcer and his employer.

"Bring me the Palace Barrister," the emperor ordered – Reptile nodded in agreement and marched then, still puzzled about the news about the Rebel-Seekers initiative yet resolute.

Alone in the room, the silent tension between Black, M'horel, Zarrabayeusse and the emperor seemed to grow by the minute. After a few moments, the Zaterran returned: a small man stood by his side. Yvo, the trustworthy barrister, the one that looked exactly like a miniature old Viking, was carrying a yellowish scroll in his hands.

"We have a delicate situation here," the Kahn indicated the recently arrived barrister, "Erron Black has confessed a crime against an Outworlder – an assassination unrelated to his duty. There cannot be a trial for him: he has already confessed, and he is not an Outworlder."

"You are correct," Yvo sentenced simply. "Erron Black is only a naturalized Outworlder and, to the eyes of our rightful laws, naturalized Outworlders are not eligible for trial since they merely pretend to be something they are not. They have some benefits though, but the chance for a fair trial is not one of them, I'm afraid. Also, if he has already confessed to being guilty of this crime, there's not much to be done here. There are some guarantees that protect naturalized Outworlders as long as they follow the rules provided by their employers – but since this crime has been perpetrated outside of his duties for you, my Kahn, this doesn't seem to be the case either," the short man concluded.

"What about his years of service? What about his seniority? Could these factors be seen as potential mitigating circumstances?" the Kahn asked, worried about the prospect of losing one of his best enforcers to his own reckless irascibility.

Yvo scratched his chin minutely, examining the possibilities: "Could be," he let out softly as if talking to himself, "also, he's been a naturalized Outworlder for nearly thirty years now," the barrister added quite enthusiastically as he slid his fingers through his grey, long hair.

Black smiled in silence: the odds were finally in his favor.

"No, it wasn't so long ago. I naturalized him myself when he began to work for me as an official enforcer, once the war was over and I became emperor of Outworld," Kotal corrected the old man.

"I'm afraid that's not correct, my Kahn," Yvo retorted shyly.

"I beg your pardon?" Kotal Kahn was astonished: he had always suspected Black to be a man of many layers but the profound implications he was unveiling seemed almost ridiculous to be true. There was more to him, that had always been an obvious statement – yet it all was too much for the Kahn to handle.

There were three ways for a non-native person to achieve the status of 'naturalized': by marriage, by legitimate progeny or by royal decree – the latter possibility was also known as 'decree of necessity and/or urgency'. The Kahn himself had naturalized Black as soon as he became one of his official enforcers via royal decree so there was no room for doubt inside his head.

Trying to prove his words to be true, Yvo handed the emperor the scroll he had been carrying – scanning quickly through the old calligraphy, Kotal Kahn found the answer he had been searching for: Erron Black had already been naturalized, prior to the royal decree he had endorsed for him – he had been naturalized by marriage.

The letters displayed before his wary eyes were adding to the enigma instead of solving it:

Certificate of Marriage.

Erron Black (Earthrealm) – Zarrabayeusse Zmbrá (Edenia)

Here to witness this union, L'ampaghna Zmbrá (Edenia) & Dexitis Rua (Outworld) appear today in the Family Tribunal of Outworld.

Number of officiants solemnizing this matrimony: 3

This union is celebrated and made official according to the rightful laws of Outworld marriage and it contemplates the latest amendments of these regulations established by Kahnum Mileena.

Infuriated, the emperor discarded the piece of paper as if its impertinence was burning against his skin – its nearly weightless nature allowed it to fall down to the ground quite gracefully, rocked in the risky, heated atmosphere of the Throne Room.

"Why didn't you tell me you had already been naturalized by marriage? You knew I was going to sign your decree the moment I became emperor!" Kotal Kahn yelled violently – a bemused look on his face was letting the Earthrealmer know that the emperor was not fond of this sort of surprises.

"Do you think I could have gotten as close to you as I did by being a simple Earthrealmer? Let's be honest, Kotal – a non-naturalized Earthrealmer could have never caught your attention like I did," Black stated but his honesty was not being well received by the tempested Kahn's furious stare. "When you hired me, I knew I was putting myself at risk – becoming one of your guards was accepting a dangerous position," Black began, his tone softer now, "I didn't say a word about my marriage because I was trying to protect Zar," his eyes found hers, coffee meeting emerald in a silent bonfire of things unsaid, "Now, when you hired her… well, I'll confess that was an unexpected surprise; but it was good anyway: I was finally able to have her near me after all."

"What else should I learn about you, Black?" The Osh-Tekk demanded, his remark embedded in sheer irony. "Do you have children?"

"No," The mercenary answered, the seriousness of his elocution was colliding against the sardonic question.

"That is just odd, especially considering the fact that you've been married to this woman for a very long time," Yvo's pensive eyes were accompanying the old man's quiet conclusion. The Kahn looked over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes, intimidating the barrister. "I mean… it is weird, my Kahn. Outworld women tend to… procreate as soon as they marry and… they repeat the procedure until… well, until their limited biology forsakes them, causing them to stop being considered as useful members of our society," the barrister concluded, stuttering nervously.

Black shrugged and rolled his eyes: and to think they all thought he was sexist. Letting out a loud sigh he found an anchor in Zarrabayeusse's saddened visage. The woman nodded silently as if allowing the mercenary to be brave and say it out loud.

"She's unable, I'm afraid," Black announced, solemnly.

"You married an infertile woman?" Yvo asked quickly, the shock of the surprise was so overwhelming the man didn't even stop to think about the horrible thing he was implying.

Kotal Kahn gave the barrister a cold look full of despondency and reprobation, forcing him to remain silent.

"If anything – such a noble gesture proves the kind of man that you are, Earthrealmer: a good one," the Kahn reflected, his hand resting on Black's nearest shoulder, "a sterile woman is seen as a pariah by the rest of our society – they are thought of as lesser beings; as an incomplete work. Yet you chose her and you married her anyway." He noticed Zar's eyes tearing up and his softened gaze traveled the distance, soothing the battered woman's thoughts: "You cannot be condemned for something you weren't responsible for," Kotal indulged her, understanding the deep-rooted sadness engulfing her.

"I feel profoundly touched by all this mediocrity," M'horel interrupted them, still kneeling on the ground, "but I am your employee as well, and I am an Outworlder, born and raised – if he can obtain privileges from all this, I don't see why I can't."

Reptile rushed his way towards the rebellious guard and, with a push of his hands, forced him to keep his head down. Kotal Kahn sat back down on the throne – with a simple gesture of his hands he dismissed a still moved Zarrabayeusse; the woman hesitated at first but obeyed anyway. Reptile followed the woman and the nurse – only Yvo remained there, with the three of them.

The Kahn was struggling to maintain an impossible balance between two conflicting elements that were seemingly irreconcilable. He narrowed his eyes, searching for a way out, an elusive solution that he just couldn't seem to find. After a moment of complete silence he cleared his throat and announced: "One of you is one of my closest enforcers – I hired you, Black, I made you who you are today. The other is a Rebel-Seeker, a position I myself created," he paused, his voice was grave, the dark severity in his tone was unusual. "As you can see, it's hard not to pick me as the main responsible for everything that has happened between the two of you. It shall be me the one to judge you – the weight of whatever decision I make, the weight of this responsibility shall be mine, and mine only."

"What do you mean, emperor?" Yvo questioned, bewildered, even if only looking for further clarification on what was about to happen. There was going to be a trial after all – behind closed doors and in secluded secrecy. The Kahn himself would become the judge and possibly the executioner. The ax of his particular fashion of justice and morals would hover over their heads, waiting patiently for one of them to crumble down.

"They'll expose their allegations to me. I shall be the one to decide upon their fates," Kotal explained, in case there still was any room for doubt. "M'horel – since you claim you feel at disadvantage, I compel you to be the first to talk." The guard stood up but the emperor forced him to stay put, "I didn't say you could stand again, M'horel. On your knees."

The guard obeyed, though cursing through clenched teeth. He placed his tied up hands in front of his stomach and began: "I accuse you, Earthrealmer, of killing my younger brother Pareedis. But seeing that you've already confessed your crime, I shall also bring into light that you didn't act alone: there is a woman, emperor – another Earthrealmer. A healer. She betrayed us, and joined Black's side," the guard raised a challenging eyebrow, daring Black to defend her.

The mercenary's ears boiled up with a fiery rage: the bastard had said it – he had exposed her; now she was irreversibly involved in their dirt, and fear and trepidation were taking their toll on him.

"She died in the fire," Black retorted as fast as he could. "This man and his brother tried to murder me by burning down my house in the mountains. I wasn't there – but this woman was," he was sheltering her in the anonymity that is to be dead. In case things were to blow up in his face he had to be sure she'd be alright. In case he was taken away, or in case things were to get even more complicated – in case he was no more, he wouldn't be there for her during the population census. He made up his mind: if he was going to be unable to help her, he was definitely going to try his best for her not to need his help at all.

"That's a lie!" M'horel yelled, infuriated by Black's lack of integrity. "My men searched the place, they didn't find her body."

"I myself visited the place after the fire – she's buried in what used to be the backyard. Ask your men; perhaps they saw a wooden cross," Black's strategy was growing strong even though his heart was breaking at the thought of using the boy as part of his alibi.

M'horel's face contorted in disgust: his men had mentioned the cross yet, unaware of Earthrealm's funerary rituals, they had barely stopped to examine the object.

The pensive Kahn narrowed his eyes in agreement:

"Reptile mentioned to me that he heard Black say that your brother had murdered someone he held dear," his tone, now softened, was reflexive as if trying to unveil the mysterious jigsaw puzzle displayed in front of his eyes. "Black, this maze is a nightmare. If we're to find a way out, I need to know where the path begins," Kotal went on, "how did you become a target for the Rebel-Seekers?"

The mercenary furrowed his brow – the Kahn wanted a beginning for his story, and a beginning was exactly what he had to offer: "Like I told you, they found me in the Kuatan Jungle," Black explained, keeping a straight face in spite of the lie he had just produced.

"When you were ambushed and attacked by Tarkatans…" Kotal reflected as he recalled those infamous days.

"That's not true," M'horel corrected the cowboy, "you weren't in the Kuatan Jungle. Ask the men who were supposed to accompany Black during that mission: they'll tell you he was nowhere to be found," the seed of discord was growing, incarnated inside the guard's defining statements.

"I was with my group!" Black retorted, his excessively fiery response awakening the doubt in Kotal.

"Were you or were you not with your men?" The Kahn asked, visibly tired of the never-ending accusations.

"The Tarkatans were solely a diversion, my Kahn. He was following his own agenda," the guard sentenced, intriguing the emperor.

"Is there any evidence to confirm these things you're implying?" Black asked calmly, his contemplative visage seemed completely out of reach. The guard remained silent for a moment; a taunting smile was already curling up Black's lips in a clear gesture of premature victory.

"Does the name Kano sound familiar to you?" M'horel questioned after a while – the card he had reserved up his sleeve was a surprising tidal wave crashing on Black's hopes. The mercenary widened his eyes: he would have never suspected that improvised young man to know anything about Kano. Yet he did. And now M'horel's thoughtless, reckless indiscretions were successfully jeopardizing his plans once more.

"Kano?" Kotal mumbled, stunned by the revelation.

"I've been investigating, Earthrealmer, I have my resources as well as you do. You abandoned your men because you were chasing after this man Kano; you treacherous coward," now it was M'horel the one smiling, the rhetorical gesture of triumph was more than what Black was able to handle.

"This is a serious accusation, Black," Kotal intervened. The name 'Kano' was an alarm ringing in his ears.

"You're bluffing," the gunslinger dismissed the guard, partially worried yet accustomed to making his way out of all sorts of complicated situations.

"Why don't you ask Ferra about her recollections from that day?" the guard teased, "Ask her if she remembers you being on the battlefield with the rest of the group,"

The emperor raised a suspicious eyebrow, eyeing Yvo with a rather particular scrutinizing expression. He rubbed his hands together as if anticipating the storm about to rain on them.

"Bring us Ferra, then."

Really, really sorry about the nasty cliffhanger, it was totally non-intended! But I decided to split this chapter: it was simply too much to be contained in just one installment.

Again, I'm so sorry, folks! I'll try to update as soon as humanly possible though!