CHAPTER 2
A/N – Hey guys! I just want to thank you all for the unexpected number of reviews, favorites and follows! That being said, I promise to do my best to rise to your expectations! And since inspiration struck me, here's a very early and surprisingly long update!
The audience hall was only lit by a couple of scented torches and the flavored smoke filled the evening breeze pouring in through the large windows and inflating the white silk curtains. The full moon had yet to rise, but the Great Wizard Eibon was already feeling too sick to stand, which was why he had currently occupied Lord Death's usual seat. He didn't have much time left, he knew, but he would not pass away without at least trying to see to the prophecy brought to fulfillment. As the last living descendant of the Emeralds it was a task he was simply bound to by all the centuries his ancestors had spent protecting this land and this kingdom which had now become so wretched. And Lord Death was unquestionably loyal to him and his purposes, but still… it was a hard thing to ask, especially of the man's only son, without ignoring the fact that the whole thing would be a shot in the dark.
Kid's golden eyes trailed curiously from his father's weary expression to the Great Wizard Eibon's unreadable mask. Why is he here? What's the Great Wizard got to ask of me? And my father looks upset…
"You must have heard of the High Priest of the Citadel, the one called the Ourouboros, by his real name Moro Pellemargaroth, haven't you, Kid?" Eibon asked and the young shinigami nodded slowly.
"It is said that he is an immortal being. I don't know how accurate this information is though-"
"He is an abomination, that's what he is," Eibon interrupted. "One such as himself should not walk upon this earth and still… here he is. He has governed the Citadel – and the whole kingdom of Styx - for the last five hundred years. He has been keeping everyone under his terror ever since he's overthrown the last king of the Emerald dynasty with the help of the assassins of the Star clan. When he came to power he named himself High Priest and the head of the Star clan became king. He made a king out of a cheap mercenary and he has been controlling their dynasty from then onwards, using them as his puppets"
The Great Wizard paused to assess the effect of his words, but the shinigami's expression remained impassible. Everyone knows that the Stars abuse the laws and oppress innocents, so what use is there for this little story, I wonder? "So… the High Priest Pellemargaroth has been alive for five hundred years and the Star princes have no actual noble blood but are instead a bunch of low life hired killers? Is that what you are saying, master Eibon?"
"The Ourouboros has also surrounded himself by a very dangerous shinigami elite, blindly loyal to him and to the dynasty," the wizard went on, oblivious to the comment. "Not that Pellemargaroth himself could be killed by any living man, of course. It is very important to note that, as invincible as he may be, he was cursed by an ancient prophecy which says that one day a woman warrior may rise and destroy him, and when that day comes he shall be betrayed by someone close to him. Now, because he is always amongst his elite of shinigami priests, he has instated a very strict rule for their selection – any relationship with women is forbidden, they must not as much as touch a woman or girl in any way and in fact… they must preferably swing the other way. Or just be… self-sufficient. Women in the Citadel are also prohibited to look at them, under the punishment of death. However, despite his strict measures and precautions, the prophecy has almost come to pass once – with Gala and Maximilian. Have you ever heard of them?"
"I believe the expression 'like Gala and Maximilian' is somewhat of a legendary term used to describe something of the nature of… forbidden love. Is that correct?"
"It is, " Lord Death spoke, before the wizard could and also because he'd noticed that Eibon had mostly gone out of breath from his speech. "But Gala and Maximilian were not a mere legend, as the Ourouboros would want people to believe. Maximilian was one his priests and Gala… well… not much is known about her, other than that she was an exceptional woman who conquered his heart. Maximilian went as far as to break his vows to be with her and they even had a child together, before they were discovered by the Ourouboros and slain. The child survived though and we are his direct descendants." The High Priest watched in disappointment as his son's indifferent expression remained unchanged.
"And?" What the hell was this bedtime story about? Kid wondered. If the Great Wizard Eibon and his father wanted something from him and that much was quite obvious, they might have just as well say it plainly instead of beating around the bush like that. "What does this have to do with me?" Other than that we are apparently the result of some betrayal which took place a very long time ago. Is that why the 'Death' family must spend their lives doing the Emeralds' dirty work? Because our ancestor chose to turn his back on the immortal Ourouboros? Flawless logic that is! At the end of the day we are nothing but servants, so why would any of this matter?
The black shrouded High Priest shook his head. "Kid, sometimes I really wish you weren't so blunt. It has everything to do with us! Because even if we are shinigamis and you were created out of a fragment of my very soul, we are still ultimately the fruit of a genuine act of love between two people"
The young shinigami snorted inwardly. Doesn't that just mean we're half-breeds? And 'a genuine act of love between two people'… funny words coming from you, father… He settled his gaze on the Great Wizard Eibon, knowing that the Emerald lord was silently observing him. "So what are your orders, master Eibon?"
The wizard took a deep breath and then coughed lightly to clear his dry throat. "The signs have shown me… the girl we were waiting for was born, not very long ago. I don't know who she is or what she looks like, but I am guessing she must be of the right age and she is undoubtedly living in the Citadel. She is the one who can fulfill the prophecy, but she'll never be able to do it alone. Thus, I have decided that you will go to the Citadel and join the Ourouboros' elite core, so that you shall be close to both him and the Stars. And then you will find this girl and help her do what she was born to accomplish."
"But… how will I find her then? How could I possibly know it's her? And why would this presumably very young and probably scaredy girl do what you want?"
"You will know when you see her. And she will do it for you, Death the Kid," Eibon replied sternly. "Because you will make her love you, enough to kill, enough to risk everything for you."
The young shinigami blinked briefly a couple of times, but aside from that nothing else betrayed his inner emotions. "Very well, master Eibon. Everything you asked, I will see it done." With a slight bow of his head, Kid turned on his heels and walked away towards the exit.
"Kid…" Lord Death called, but his son simply ignored him.
Chrona's head tilted slightly to the side, a thin eyebrow arched questioningly as the magical child eyed the pile of shards which had once been a fine porcelain vase. The Persian rug was upset as well and nearby a coffee table was lying half turned upside down, the wooden bowl of dried flowers potpourri tossed aside in the process, a terrible mess scattered around all over the place.
"Don't even ask, he wouldn't talk about it," Liz said, holding her hands up and motioning with her head towards her stepbrother's room. "But yes, he is furious"
A little later, the pink haired servant made his way into the small bedchamber where his master was lying face down on the bed. Pulling the tight black garment up a little, Chrona sat in an armchair and drew his knees to his chest, watching the seemingly resting form.
"And where have you been?" grumbled a muffled voice in greeting.
"Mostly cleaning the little mess you made in the less-than-two-hours I left you alone, master. That and master Death needed to speak to me, since I am to go with you. We shall leave at dawn. He would speak to you as well, but knows that you are probably in no mood to listen," the magical child replied. "It sounds like a really difficult mission this time"
The raven haired boy on the bed groaned and shifted, eventually rolling face up. "You don't understand, Chrona. This is exceptionally bad! Have we not done enough of the Emeralds' dirty work? Just when I thought I couldn't get any lower, I was 'promoted' to prostitute! And my father says to me 'we are ultimately the fruit of a genuine act of love between two people'! Is he fucking serious?!"
The demon sword sighed and stood up slowly, going to sit down on the bed where his master lay. Long pale fingers reached out to caress and massage the other boy's tensed shoulders over the light, creased shirt. "Now, now… don't talk like that. I'm sure it will be alright"
The former fighter and now doctor of Galiel's House, Franken Stein could make his way through the poorly illuminated dungeon halls beneath the Arena even with his eyes closed. And he had preferred to keep them half closed most of the time anyway, rather than be met with the sight this sinister place had to offer, that at least until the daughter of his only friend had been brought here. Sold into slavery by his own uncle when he was only twelve, Stein had brought his share of glory to the House in the days of his youth, often making a team with Maka's father, until he had been severely injured and had to be stitched up almost from head to toe. After that, Galiel had considered that his skills as a doctor were far more valuable and he'd never stepped upon the sands again.
In the corridor connecting the numerous rows of cells, standing in the middle of the perpetual fuss of the lycan slaves in charge with the regular maintenance activities, was Ox Ford, the training master of the House of Galiel, facing a stout but small little man with an imposing black beard, known as Jarblack the Hammer, the training master of the House of Zoar.
"Ox, my boy, I had to come and see you, everybody talks that your House is in trouble," the man said good-humoredly."Rumor has it that Galiel has bought nothing but garbage this time"
The goggled boy gritted his teeth and clenched his fists as his face turned beet red in anger. "Very bold of you to say that, seeing how your House has only had… only had-"
"Only twenty victories this month already, compared to your… what was that again? Five? Or was it four?"
"Jarblack, a great man knows when his days of glory have ended, and going around pestering youngsters won't bring you any. Seeing how you can't realise that much, the only garbage here is you. Please remove yourself from our territory unless you are looking for some serious trouble," Stein intervened in a calm but firm voice.
"Imbeciles!" the small man snapped back. "Soon my master will challenge your House and your pathetic scythe boy and the other fire ball throwing twat will be torn to shreds by what we have in store! Ha! What kind of idiotic weapon is a scythe, anyway?"
"A scythe can be a formidable weapon in the right hands," Stein observed, lighting up a cigarette as Jarblack the Hammer turned on his heels and stormed away.
"Thanks, Stein," Ford muttered with a curt nod. "You always know the right words to say"
"It's called experience… sadly it only comes with old age"
"Doctor Stein?" Maka asked surprised, as the grey haired man stepped inside her cell. "What's going on? I was told there was no training session today"
Stein placed his large palm on the blonde's bare shoulder, making her sit down on the small cot. "Came to check on your wound," he said softly, the now half-smoked cigarette hanging in the corner of his mouth. "You must have your rest today, because tomorrow you will fight. It's been decided"
"What… tomorrow?" the girl gasped, as the doctor's nimble fingers worked to undo the bandages on her arm. He hummed approvingly – it was nearly healed, time to remove the stitches. He rummaged in his pocket, producing a small knife which he held up into the flame of his lighter, until the thin blade blackened. After it was so disinfected, Stein cut out each stitch with great care, eventually covering the now clear, barely there wound with a fresh clean cloth.
"I know, you're not ready yet," he replied. "At least your arm is healed. Come with me"
Maka followed Stein outside in the corridor and walked obediently with the doctor to the iron gates that were one of the fighters' entrances in the Arena. The blonde had never been there before and she glanced around curious. It was just after lunch and the white sand of the Arena shone in the bright sunlight. Yes, sunlight, Maka noticed, much to his surprise. There seemed to be a large light well on the roof, very high above, through which it poured down into the Arena. She couldn't help a smile, as she'd really missed sunlight.
"I knew your father, and cared about him before he went completely amok. And now I care about you," the doctor said, unexpectedly, his voice covering the continuous buzzing of the impatient audience pouring into the aisles and filling the countless seats. "Now, I am well aware that your practice so far has been an utter disaster…"
Maka hung her head in shame. "I am so sorry… I just… don't know what's happened with me…"
"I know you have a lot of potential, Maka Albarn," Stein went on, taking a long drag out of his cigarette. "I know you're good. What's happened is that you're depressed. You're still only a child and such a thing shouldn't have happened to you, but it did. If you want to stay alive and pay that fool's debt, you need to pull yourself together and do what I know you can do. I brought you here today to see for yourself what a real match looks like"
The blonde couldn't help staring in wonder at what she was seeing. On the opposite side from their gate, fifteen meters above the ground level was a large, richly decorated balcony draped with white and dark blue silk, the colors of the Star dynasty, embroidered with their silver shuriken crest, as the doctor explained. The king's balcony was surrounded by the different sections belonging to the Noble Houses, Stein pointing which one was Galiel's. The noise of the crowd died down to some extent upon the king's arrival. White Star took his seat in his balcony, surrounded by his court, and the Master of Ceremonies announced the fights of the day out loud.
"Olverd Whitehair of the House of Eleazad will fight Soul 'Eater' Evans of the House of Galiel, in half an hour," the Master of Ceremonies shouted and Maka flinched, seeing the scythe boy coming into view.
Four lycans instantly began toiling upon his arrival, as there was no time to waste. They all moved precisely, to the purpose, without unnecessary words. Once they were finished with the preparations, one slave helped him get put on his armor - a metal breastplate bearing the silver gargoyle of the House of Galiel - and another oiled it all over so it would be all slippery and divert blows. Then they wrapped red strips of cloth on his hands, leaving only his fingers out - red for luck, after all he was the best warrior slave of their house and the Lord had ordered special care.
"Hey, tiny tits! Come to see me fight?" Soul teased the blonde, his usual smirk in place even now. "Well, if I win, cheer for me. And if I die, fuck, don't do whatever I did!" he laughed.
Idiot! How can he joke at a time like this? Maka thought, purposefully turning her back on him. "Just don't get yourself killed, troll eater!" she retorted as he walked past her, and she saw the boy's smile widening ever so slightly.
The iron gate on the opposite side of the Arena was lifted and Olverd Whitehair came into view. He was terrible to behold, but the slaughter addicted audience cheered for him enthusiastically. He was about the size of Orlog the Ogre, with long braided white hair and purple eyes. He wore a heavy iron breastplate with the tree of the House of Eleazad on his chest and carried two broad jagged swords. Walking up to meet him, Soul waved his hand confidently at the crowd and the ladies acclaimed him aloud.
"I don't know if you realise, but Evans does have an enormous advantage," the doctor pointed. "He can morph any part of his body – or his whole body for that matter – into a blade, and his opponent will never know where the blow is to come from"
Letting out a growl, Olverd charged towards the boy with his swords raised, but Soul was swift and eluded him. One of the scythe's arms stretched to the side, transforming into a huge, broad red-and-black blade, blocking Whitehair's attack, while the crowd roared wildly. Olverd then thrust forward with the other sword, but the oiled armor diverted his blow. It was strong enough though to make his opponent stumble backwards and he charged again, hoping to take him by surprise.
Galiel's warrior took advantage of his smaller stature and dodged his attack again, but his curved blade thrust into the monster's exposed armpit, where his armor was weak. Soul then quickly slipped behind his back, pushing him forward with his boot. Whitehair fell face down in the sand with a scream and the scythe boy thrust the tip of his weapon again, in the back of his skull, bringing his end. The audience acclaimed in a total frenzy.
Frozen with horror, Maka simply stood there, with her back stuck onto the cold stone wall, dumbstruck.
"I know, a rather dismal prospect, a real match," Stein observed. "Survive your first fight tomorrow and I'll take over your training"
To be continued