There is no designated library within the mansion; instead, there are sitting rooms with books of specific categories. One sitting room might have its shelves filled with fictional reading while another holds books on the animals of the world. His uncle chose the room with historical books as part of his punishment.
Upon returning to the mansion, the boys had stood before their respective fathers and Patriarch Julian, providing an account of the events leading up to Pandemonium. Kumo had stepped forward for the first part, and that is when they learned that he had sent a Messenger Hummingbird to his Patriarch, explaining in a short sentence that he would be tailing the boys as they snuck out. The three children took over afterward, with Cian doing most of the talking out of habit, not because he wanted to direct the narrative. He had paused momentarily, his eyes meeting Patriarch Julian’s as he inquired about the people’s reaction in the restaurant.
“Does the name Yatim carry a distorted history amongst your tribe?”
Patriarch Julian put a finger against his head in thought. “No. I’ve no recollection of that surname unless it’s from an older history we’ve forgotten. Patriarch Griff, how about you?”
“I have knowledge of most predominant clan names, but this one rings no bells.”
“I’ll ensure to investigate the name. Over the recent years, I’m ashamed to say, we’ve had a rise in occult practices. Nothing to the caliber of actual sinful cultivation, but enough to be troubling. I don’t know what misguided soul decided to mark Nathaniel’s clan as cursed, and I hate to think his clan sought help against those who attacked them only to be ignored because of people’s ignorance,” Patriarch Julian said, interlocking his fingers as his expression became downcast.
When it came to the subject of Nathaniel, Cian was elated to hear that he was to be inducted into Amiel Amadeus, an orphanage personally handled by Patrairch Julian. Now, the tribe of Adoptore has many established orphanages across the continents, with Heartsease as the primary benefactor in their operation. They are loving and warm environments, complete with education houses next to the children’s living quarters. The children have every need met, and those who do not get taken into a clan are happy to grow with their caretakers, who treat them as their own children. That being said, because Amiel Amadeus is within Patriarch Julian’s domain, he and his family will regularly participate in caring for the children. Nathaniel can grow comfortably and, in the name of Jesus, over time heal from the trauma of his past.
Their report concluded with Cian expressing his gratitude to Daughter Seraphina, emphasizing her skill with her fan. Patriarch Julian had preened on behalf of his daughter, who was absent as she saw to Nathaniel’s care, and the children were dismissed afterward. As they were leaving, Cian overheard Kumo, who had stayed behind, speaking about the man who was set on fire during his confrontation with Seraphina. Apparently, one of the men from the alley had also been set ablaze, but Wukong shut the door before he could hear anything further.
The following morning, he and Keegan ate breakfast with Bomin in his room, where he handed out their punishment. Despite their good deed with Nathaniel, they had still disobeyed Bomin’s words, which is why Cian is flipping through a book on the creation of the five bridges connecting the continents. The book is one he has read before, the original lay in The Conucopia, and it had been a better read the first time around. He wondered if Keegan was having a more enjoyable experience reading about different agricultural techniques.
“Your father is far kinder than my uncle. He would have made you read every book and write an essay on each,” Wukong said, walking into the sitting room, holding a sleeping Skadi in front of him, who was balancing a coffee cup on her head. Cian did not bother to raise his head from the book he had turned into a makeshift pillow. “I didn’t know you brought her. She wasn’t in your room when we came to fetch you.”
Wukong sat in the empty chair opposite him, careful not to spill the contents of the cup as he transferred it to the table. “Prometheus keeps stealing her from me, and even on threat of physical violence, I had to snatch her away again this morning.”
Cian hummed, shifting his position to face the other boy, and scowling a bit when he saw Wukong drinking his coffee in a relaxed manner. “How is it that you’re not punished when we are? Is your father more understanding?”
“No. I simply will not have to face mine until my family and I return home.”
“And what has your father planned for you?”
“I am to help the first-years orchestrate their winter play, and also act in it,” Wukong responded with evident disdain coating his words.
Cian did not bother with stifling the laugh that spilled out. “You didn’t even appreciate acting in the one we did, and I believed you chose the character that died in the first scene! Your father is more creative than Grandmaster Edwin.”
“You can shut your mouth now. I did not come here to amuse you,” Wukong said when Cian continued to laugh. He rummaged through his robes and pulled out a book. Cian had only a moment to move his head out of the way before Wukong dropped the book on the one he had been lying on. “This is why I am here.”
The book in question is bound by aged leather and is quite thick. “What is this?” Cian asked, flipping through the pages and noting the neat handwriting inside. “The diary of a man named Sadiq To’eh. Tell me. What age do you think that man from the caverns was?
Cian became thoughtful–Wukong’s sudden question having thrown him for a loop. He does not like to think about the man, and the nightmares have only recently diminished, but he could give a guess. “I’d assume he was in his late fifties or beginning sixties.”
Wukong then startled Cian again by suddenly dropping five more books. “This is only part of his collection, as Sadiq To’eh documented his life from when he was twenty-one until his death. They have been authenticated, and it is confirmed that his writings are over a thousand years old. I know you read swiftly, but I have only brought the most prominent books, as even with your reading efficiency, it would take months to go through the horde. I expect you to finish reading by the end of the day.”
“You’re handing me more information than I have time to chew,” Cian protested. “Why did you ask me what I thought the man’s age was, and what did Sadiq To’eh write that’s so important?”
“Because Sadiq To’eh did not die until this year,” Wukong replied, and his words moved the cogs in Cian’s mind as he pieced together what the boy was getting at. No one in recorded history has ever lived that long; the eldest person reached two hundred and three years old. Then what struck him was that Wukong said that the man died in their current year, and the diaries are from the horde in the last cavern underneath Lake Kai. “You don’t mean…,”
Wukong nodded. “The man you killed was Sadiq To’eh. He was there when Panthnos was still whole and witnessed it breaking apart. He was there before the birth of the tribes and saw their first patriarchs and matriarchs. He was there when the Five Founders rose to power. He documented it all.”
Cian sat with his back straight as he listened to Wukong speak. The diary before him appeared more foreboding, and he was not sure if what he felt was excitement to read such a historical book or nervousness as to what he would uncover. He did not appreciate how much Wukong was startling him because he knew the other boy purposefully screeched his chair when pushing it back. The boy stood, resting his chin on Skadi’s head after adjusting her higher in his arms. “When you complete your reading, come find me, as I would like to discuss its contents with you. I would also like to speak with you concerning something I noticed yesterday when we fought those masked men.”
Wukong did not wait for a reply and simply walked away, leaving Cian alone with the diaries. He ran his thumb over the cover of the first one before opening it to the front page.
—————
“Sadiq, wake up!”
Sadiq was wrenched from his bed, and he was left gasping in fright as his father dropped him on the floor and tossed his boots at him. “Father, what’s happening?” Sadiq asked, rubbing the heel of his palm against his eye to rid himself of clinging sleep. “We couldn’t make the tribute and refused to hand over any of our people. They’re coming, Sadiq,” his father replied. His father, muscular in build and sturdy in posture, with his braided silver hair looking a mess as loose strands cascaded against his rich olive skin, and his crimson eyes filled with fear. Sadiq has never seen his father so disheveled, and he could not blame the man.
“Where are my mother and my sisters?” Sadiq questioned as he hurriedly put on his boots. Their home is not large by any means. It is a single-roomed shack large enough for two cots, one for his parents and one for him and his siblings, and a small cooking area. A quick look around, and he could see that he and his father were alone, the man having gone to their cupboard to pull out their stores of dried food. “I’ve sent them outside. You were the last one I needed to wake. Go out there with them and prepare Shepherd to run. I’ve already harnessed her to the cart.”
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Once his feet were covered, Sadiq went to do as his father commanded. Outside, the streets of his village were in utter disarray as everyone was running around, packing everything they could onto carts. Those who grabbed what they could urged their respective mules and horses to sprint down the dirt road in the direction of the mountains. The chaos made Sadiq’s heart skip, and he almost fumbled as he went over to his family’s cart, his mother and three little sisters clinging to each other while being half buried under the items his father had deemed necessary. No sooner had he climbed onto the front bench than did his father come barreling out of their home. He tossed the bundle of food with the rest of the stuff before yelling for Sadiq to go. With a flick of the reins, their mule, Shepherd, galloped forward.
Sadiq drove the beast into the woods surrounding their village. They continued along the road until it reached the mountain's edge, where they had to disembark and lead Shepherd by hand. His people, long before he was born, had carved pathways alongside the mountain for times of catastrophe. The pathways blended into the mountain’s rocky face, and one wrong step would send a good man tumbling to his death. It is slow going, and Sadiq kept imagining the soldiers finding them and shooting them down with arrows. None of that occurred, and it was a few moments more until they reached a deep cave hidden behind a sharp wall of rock.
He and his family chose an area with a moss floor and settled in, unloading their cart and freeing Shepherd. Behind them, more of their people flowed through the cave, each family claiming a spot for themselves. Afterward, it became a matter of waiting, and the men had taken to scouting outside to see what could be seen. Sadiq and his father were amongst those men, and from his perch, he watched as eventually smoke began to rise from the direction of their village.
The To’eh clan is one of the more impoverished clans, and none of their people hold specialized skills. Their work is not sought after, and whenever men like his father have to sell their crafted wares, they compete with more creditable clans. What they earn is enough to buy resources they otherwise cannot grow and harvest themselves. That is why when the Harald Clan conquered their region and imposed a monetary tribute on them, they struggled. They fared well for the first two months, but then the money dwindled. Sadiq had not been aware of how much, but if his father said they were unable to pay, then it all must be gone.
They will not be able to rebuild their village, and because of their unpaid debt, no one will offer aid lest they bring the eyes of Harald on them. Once the fire dies out, and only the ash remains, that will be the end for his clan.
Sadiq did not cry as he continued to watch the billowing smoke, the scent wafting up the mountains and polluting his nose.
—————
They remained in the cave for thirteen days before Bauer To’eh, their clan leader, gathered them for a discussion. Bauer is an older gentleman whose olive skin bore the weathering of hard work, and his off-white hair a testament to his principles. He has been their firm guide in running the village, ensuring that no one ever faced starvation and that the elderly were taken care of as much as the youngest children. He did not baulk in the face of hardship, but as he looked out at his people, his crimson eyes held something no one had ever seen. Hopelessness.
“I believe Harald’s soldiers have left, and I doubt any remained to see if we would return,” Bauer said, his tone lacking confidence, but the man was resolute in what they had to do. “We will scavenge for whatever the fire did not consume. Afterward, I will pray over the village, then we will depart.”
“Where will we go?” someone asked, striking a murmur to course through the small gathering.
“Wherever the Lord guides us,” came Bauer’s simple response. It was not much of a reassurance, but there was nothing the people could do. Their best chance of survival was to flee as far away from Harald’s territory and establish a new village for themselves somewhere else. A difficult task, considering so much land is being disputed over by large clans, and the smaller ones like To’eh must suffer through the conflicts.
They waited until the early morning of the next day, half of the men venturing out while the remainder stayed with the elderly, women, and children. Sadiq, due to his age, was among the ones leaving the cave, along with his father. They had no weapons save for a few hunting bows, and those were given to the most skilled of their venturing party. The rest forged spears from broken branches, sharpening their ends. Sadiq did not feel particularly defended with his measly twig, and his eyes kept darting from one noise to another as they walked the road to the their village.
Ash and smoldering remnants were what greeted them when they came out of the trees. Sadiq had thought he was prepared to witness the wreckage, but seeing his home in ruins caused water to well up in the corner of his eyes. Drops cascaded down his cheek as he clenched his teeth together to prevent an anguished howl from escaping. The men around him fared no better, and his father grasped him by the shoulder to comfort him, but also to hold himself stable. In the center of the village, there was a stone pillar, and carved into its four faces was their clan’s insignia, a moth. For as long as Sadiq could remember, the pillar had stood through every misfortune and joyful event in the village’s life. To see it crumbled, pieces strewn about, cemented that their village was no more, and that their clan could be next.
It was a somber affair as everyone worked to scour through the crumbled remnants of their homes. They had brought with them three carts, two pulled by mules and one by a horse. Sadiq felt a modicum of relief that Shepherd stayed with his mother and sisters because if the animals with them were distressed, he could only imagine how his mule would be. The other beasts made their agitation known, and their whining brought a new nervousness. His heart felt ready to give in due to the overwhelming tension, and it almost did when his father spoke to him.
“Generations this home has been within our family,” his father said, kneeling before the pile of rubble, and running his fingers through the ashes. “It sheltered us, allowed itself to be reformed to meet our needs, and soaked our sweat from a hard day of labor. Now it’s nothing.”
Sadiq opened his mouth to speak, but no comforting words came, for what could he possibly say to elevate his father’s grief? Instead, Sadiq knelt beside his father and leaned his head against the man’s shoulder. His father shook for a moment before placing an arm around his son and holding him tightly. They stayed like that for a long while before a thin whistle broke their serenity. When Sadiq turned his head to implore if his father knew what the sound was, he staggered back screaming.
His father remained on his knees. His head had fallen forward, chin slack against his chest, and from the crown jutted the shaft of an arrow. Blood traced in narrow rivulets down his face, slipping along the fletching, gathering on the tip before dripping steadily to the ground. His arm lay limp where seconds before it had been around Sadiq’s shoulder.
Sadiq scrambled toward his father, yet was too hesitant to touch him, yelling in terror all the while. Around him, a few more bodies fell to the floor as soldiers belonging to the Harald clan made themselves visible. Bauer had been a part of the scavenging party against the protest of his people, who said they needed him to be safe to lead them, and he was one of the fortunate ones not to be immediately shot by an arrow. That did not mean it was any less painful as a soldier kicked him to the ground. Along with Bauer, a few other members of their clan were dragged toward the center of the village, and Sadiq was meant to be among them.
Behind him, a soldier grabbed Sadiq by the shoulders, and the young man began to flail, unwilling to leave his father alone. “Get off of me!” Sadiq shrieked like a banshee and snapped at the one keeping him captive. His efforts earned him a swift punch to the side of his head and a kick to his abdomen. Sadiq went limp afterward, the wind having been knocked out of him, and he was made to join the rest of his clansmen.
“Where is the rest of your clan? Where are they hiding?” a man tall in stature with broad shoulders and a domineering air asked. The man wore dark-colored, form-fitted robes that peeked between his dull-colored armor. His charcoal-gray hair was wound tightly in a bun, and his face held no crinkles around the mouth, the dark ebony skin smooth from lack of smiling. On his chest plate is the etched image of a bat with its wings expanded and fangs evident, the insignia of the Harald clan.
“I told them to run away without us,” Bauer responded. His gaze was steady as he looked at the man towering over him, two sets of crimson willing the other to bow before them. “We don’t know where they are, nor would we ever tell you.”
The man gave a nod of his head, and the soldier standing nearest Bauer struck him in the back with his foot. Bauer hissed in pain as he bent forward, but still his resolve remained. “This old man is strong, but a fool.”
“I am Valentin Harald, Seneschal to Clan Leader Cedric Harald, and I vow on my title that what I speak is the truth. All clans under Harald must pay tribute; if no money can be given, people can act as substitutes. Your village had no money, but would have remained in our leader’s good graces had you offered the best of your people. We retaliated because you had chosen to disrespect our leader by running away, and we will continue our retaliation if you refuse to listen. So I say to you, that if you wish no harm to come to your people, then give us what we want. In doing so, you guarantee your clan's life. We don’t want to kill you, and we abhor that we had to kill a few already because it's a waste.”
No one uttered a word as Valentin waited for a response, and the continued silence caused a frown to appear on his face. “You are all foolish. How long do you think you will survive without Harald’s claim? If we don’t own you, then someone else will, or you will be caught between two rulers setting their bounds. I wonder if more of you will not die then.”
“We will truly be guaranteed life?” Sadiq questioned. Since the moment Valentin began speaking, Sadiq had not bothered to raise himself from the slumped position the soldier had placed him in. He still did not, even when Valentin moved to stand in front of him, the man blocking the light of the day like a massive tree. “Harald is not a wasteful clan. Any life given to us will be nourished and put to use.”
“Yes, our men will become fodder soldiers, and if our women are pleasing to you, they shall be forced to marry whoever sets eyes on them first amongst your high court. The fortunate ones will simply be labeled slaves. We will live, but not be alive!” Bauer protested. He was again struck, but this time he did not let the pain overwhelm him as he stared daggers at both Valentin and Sadiq.
“Any life is better than none,” Sadiq replied. “I will take you to where we were hiding and ask that my cooperation be taken into consideration.”
“It will be, boy. Be glad today that you made the right decision.”
