Zheph Skyre: Fire

By Joshua D. Altobelli

Zheph Skyre is an inventor who is trapped in a city walled up from the rest of the world. Most people here believe that Zheph is a devil-worshipper based on his gadgets and appearance. Many believe he is a criminal. Few understand who he truly is, and one particular individual wants to use him for his own selfish intentions. There's only one person who Zheph can call a friend, and she just so happens to be a princess, though many consider her odd as well. Zheph doesn't believe in the mystical, but he is in for quite a surprise.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662441752

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Zheph Skyre

Fire

Joshua D. Altobelli

Copyright © 2022 Joshua D. Altobelli

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

ISBN 978-1-6624-4174-5 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-4175-2 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

I dedicate this book to my dog, Jack Frost. You were a kind, gentle soul with more than enough love to go around. I will miss you, my precious dog.

Chapter 1

Another Day

The late summer sun shines down on a thick, towering circular wall made of gray stones that surrounds a city within a vast green forest. Outside the walls, the wind is gently whistling as the birds chirp peacefully. However, inside the city walls there is a great commotion in the shopping district. A few people run in fear to hide inside their stone cottages as a trailing cloud of dust swirls down the dirt roads followed by a loud, strange, mechanical noise accompanied by numerous hoof beats.

As people lock their doors behind them, a strange boy wearing a red helmet rides by in a bizarre vehicle with three wheels. The young man's vehicle balances and propels forward on one wheel, as the front two wheels at the end of a curved pipe remain suspended in mid air. Steam and smoke puff out its exhaust pipes while it zooms by on the dirt road past abandoned carts. There are multiple copper and brass tubes, rivets, gears, pedals, a leather seat, and a protruding glass windshield over two handle bars on this unique machine. The young man appears to be wearing a red trench coat over a one-piece black bodysuit with red trimming. Underneath the large jacket, the rider wears multiple leather straps over his chest and legs which hold various devices. He carries a green backpack on his back with another strange device strapped to the outside of the bag.

The vehicle is traveling quite fast chased by a group of knights mounted on their horses who cannot seem to catch up to the young man. The knights and their steeds are all wearing armor, and the knights themselves are carrying spears and crossbows that appear to have their bolts spent. Only one knight doesn't wear a helmet. This knight rides at the front of the group, wears a monocle over his left eye, a purple cape, with his dirty blonde hair parted to the right.

Get him, men! the lead knight shouts over the thundering hoof beats. After the devil worshipper!

The boy calmly reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a red ball with a pink stripe the size of his fist, presses a button on it, and tosses it behind him. As the horses stamp past the orb, a giant thick cloud of pink gas explodes from it. The knights continue to ride through the bright colored haze confused as to what may happen next.

What is this pink smoke, Sir Luther? one of the knights asks the lead knight.

Never mind this stupid distraction! he responds. Keep pursuing the—

Suddenly a great wave of weariness falls over Luther, his fellow knights, and their steeds. Before they can safely dismount their horses, the knights slip off their saddles as they fall into a deep sleep. The horses slow their pace, kneel down, and follow their masters' lead as they also fall into a deep slumber.

The boy in red continues to ride on his strange vehicle as his dimwitted pursuers are foiled. He turns his head to glance behind him through the tinted lenses on his helmet. As he turns his head back, he also catches a glimpse of what is in front of him, lets out a sigh through the slits in the faceplate of his helmet, presses down on the left pedal of his vehicle, and leans to his left, forcing the machine to turn abruptly and screech to a halt just beyond two cottages. The boy balances himself on the seat as he slowly allows the front of the vehicle to lean forward and rests the front two wheels on the ground.

Nine figures in green hooded cloaks surround the red rider on three sides. They each hold this strange weapon that closely resembles a crossbow, but the body of the weapon is metal with rivets. It has a slot on top of the weapon to reload arrows; pulleys and gears are incorporated into the design, and instead of a hilt in back, there is a pull knob. The cloaked people all wear metal masks over their mouths and noses, with slits over their mouths and protruding cylinders on the sides. These are members of the Scar, the ever growing and adapting gang of thieves.

Come with us quietly! the hooded man at the center calls out. We will use these bow guns if we have to!

The boy turns his head back the way he came. Indeed, the knights are still fast asleep back in the distance, and there appears to be plenty of escape routes he can take if he is fast enough. But even as he ponders his predicament, two more cloaked figures come running out from behind each cottage he just passed and block his only escape.

There is no where left to run this time!

The red rider presses a button near the handle bars of the vehicle, which activates and extends a curved pipe to protrude from the rear as a kickstand, forming an arc with the front wheels around the large main wheel. Slowly he swings his left leg over the seat of the vehicle to face the taunting hooded man. He reaches into his jacket pocket, and in one fast, fluid motion the red rider tosses another orb into the air. All of the hooded figures watch as the red ball with a white stripe falls and bounces in front of the cloaked man who spoke earlier.

Another gas grenade? We are wearing gas masks you designed yourself, fool! You really think—

Suddenly a blinding, bright flash and a high pitched squeal erupts from the orb. All the hooded figures raise one arm to shield their eyes from the overwhelming burst of white light while their other hand holds tightly to the handle of their bow guns. The weight of their weapons forces them all to let their weapons hang down next to their legs as their eyes suffer from the bombardment to their sense of sight.

The red rider calmly reaches into his jacket and pulls out twin weapons most closely resembling pistols. The projectile weapons hold rivets, gears, and tubes similar to those on the red rider's vehicle, as well as blades that extend above, below, and past the barrels which lead to short, thick barrels. The rider aims one gun to the right and fires three muffled shots. The three hooded figures to his right are completely unaware as bullets pierce their bow guns to render their own projectile weapons useless. The rider proceeds to aim the gun in his left hand toward three of the figures behind him. Again, he fires his shots, destroying the weapons these figures in hoods hold at their sides.

Unexpectedly, one cloaked figure behind the rider, barely managing to regain his sight, attempts to fire a light weight metal bolt at him. The missile flies harmlessly past the rider's arm and lands to stick in the ground a short distance away. The rider turns to watch the hooded figure try to reload his weapon and fire again, but the rider simply leans back to allow the bolt to fly over him. He aims one of his guns back at the figure and shoots his bow gun. The weapon explodes in the cloaked figure's hands and causes the individual to fall back with a terrified expression.

One of the figures to his right, after realizing that his bow gun was destroyed, attempts to charge at him with a knife that was concealed in his sleeve, The rider notices the figure as the knife came down to stab his chest. The rider quickly swings his arm up to cut across the stab with the blade on his pistol; and to the cloaked figure's surprise, the pistol's blade cuts through the knife like it was a wooden stick. The hooded figure timidly backs away with hands raised.

The rider suddenly notices that the three figures in front of him are aiming their bow guns at him again. He allows himself to fall backward to the ground onto his backpack, as one bolt flies over his vehicle and two pierce the leather seat. The landing hurts the rider as his head jerks back from the impact of falling on his backpack, and his butt lands on the dirt with a thud.

Ow, he manages to whisper.

Hurry up and reload! the cloaked figure in the middle orders his two companions as they point their bow guns to the ground to pull the knobs. We will not allow him to—

Just as they pull the knobs back and hear the mechanisms latch, three more shots are fired into each of their weapons. They stand frozen in shock as they stare down at their broken bow guns. After a moment they look back up to see the red rider aim one of his pistols at them from the ground between the kickstand and the main wheel. The rider is huffing under his helmet as the smoke coming out of the barrel of his pistol slowly fades. The three hooded figures to his left have regained their vision only to panic at the sight of their well-executed plan foiled before them. They aim their weapons at the rider, only to be too frightened to pull the triggers.

The center figure sighs as he drops his useless weapon, reaches behind his neck underneath his hood, and unfastens the bands holding his mask on his face.

Hold your fire, he tells his subordinates as he pulls off his mask with one hand. I will talk with him.

The man in the green cloak smiles at the red rider as he waits for his opponent to get up from the ground back onto his feet. The rider stares at the cloaked man's face, now with his malevolent features revealed. The man has an eyepatch over his left eye, barely covering a scar that goes from his left cheek to his forehead, while his right green eye stares at the rider with admiration. He wears his long, dark brown hair back in a ponytail even though his hairline is receding on the sides of the top of his head. The man has a tiny mustache and goatee that come to sharp points at the tips. His slightly dirty skin appears to be tanned slightly darker than the majority of the residents in the city, but still a common shade among the unprivileged.

We try very hard to catch you, the man wearing an eyepatch says as he continues to smile modestly. But you keep building better gadgets than ever. My dear friend, you always impress me!

The boy does not respond as he keeps completely still. The other cloaked figures are wondering what he is thinking under his weird helmet.

Let us not fight anymore! the leader of the hooded figures proclaims as he shrugs his shoulders and turns to look at his compatriots. There is more for you to gain if you cooperate—

The boy's grip tightens around the handles of his pistols. In a quick motion, he aims a pistol at the three remaining bow guns and fires. The cloaked figures each shout profanities as their weapons are destroyed. Their leader's only eye opens wide in surprise.

Perhaps we should try this conversation again, he says angrily as he rubs his forehead. He adds under his breath, You useless cowards—

I have had enough of this, Jacques! the red rider proclaims. I will never again join this gang! We started this band of misfits together in order to survive, but you have taken it too far! You endanger the lives of innocents for your own gain! I will not be a part of murder!

Jacques scowls at the red rider with his one good eye, as the figure with the red trench coat puts away his pistols and reaches up to pull off his helmet. As the helmet is removed, the boy's hair in the back spikes out and his bangs fall in front of his face. His features are odd, as the spikes of his hair are a shade of red, while his bangs are a bright blond; he has freckles under his eyes across his pale face and scowling blond eyebrows. His red eyes, which match the intensity of Jacques's anger, stare back at Jacques.

The only way I would even consider rejoining you and ‘The Scar' is if you all change your ways! the rider proclaims as he grips his helmet. But for now, you can all go screw yourselves!

Yeah, that is not happening, Jacques whispers to himself. Jacques turns his head to a distant building behind him. Hey, big guy! he barks in that direction. Come on out!

The boy feels uneasy as he listens to the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from behind a nearby shop. A tall muscular man, wearing a dark gray hooded cape, a leather strap holding a massive weapon on his back, and steel-toed boots that thump on the ground as he walks, appears from around the corner of the building. This monstrosity steps up right beside Jacques, and remains perfectly still for further instructions.

Remember, Jacques tells the huge hooded man with an outstretched finger. I want him alive. So go easy, and try not to kill him.

The hulking mass looks down at the boy as he places his helmet down beside his vehicle. The gray hooded man turns his head left and right to look at the other hooded figures, who are staring up in awe at this intimidating man, before settling his gaze back on the red rider, who appears to be shorter than everyone else present.

Where is the rest of him? a hard deep voice bellows from under the gray hood.

Ha ha! the boy scoffs. I am only fourteen, you jerk!

The colossal hooded man sighs as he reaches with one muscular arm for the handle of the weapon on his back. I was hoping for a more challenging opponent, but I have to earn my bounty.

The boy ponders about this mysteriously huge man as he catches a glimpse of the very limited armor he wears under the cape. On the man's chest, he wears a breastplate conformed to perfectly match the muscles underneath. On his forearms are vambraces, steel coverings for the forearms, while the rest of his scarred arms and hands remained bare. On his knees are poleyns and on his shins are greaves, steel armor plating that protect those areas, strapped over long boots and blue jeans. All of these pieces of armor are part of a matching blackened set with silver trimmings. The hooded man lifts the huge weapon over his head, and a long cloth wrapped around it comes undone, fully revealing the weapon. A gargantuan black sword about the width of an old tree and about as tall as the hooded figure with a diagonal square shaped cross guard. The weapon comes to an abrupt halt in midair, approximately twenty centimeters away from the boy's face. The red rider backs up in surprise as the hooded man holds the sword pointing at him.

Hey! the boy shouts. He tensely backs away. Watch where you point that thing!

The boy ponders for a moment and sighs with a smile as he relaxes with his arms crossed. For such a humongous sword, you move it quite easily, the red rider exclaims, as the hooded figure easily shifts the sword in his grasp keeping the tip pointed at the ground. It is impossible that it is really made out of steel.

Suddenly the hooded man stabs the tip of the sword into the ground, cracking the stone road. The red rider's eyes pop open wide for a brief moment as he stares at the proof of the sword's authenticity before he narrows his eyes pondering his current predicament. So you are inhumanly strong, the rider groans. Well, that is just great! I was hoping to have a break from this nonsense today!

I warn you, The hooded figure reaches with his free hand to his hood. Do not take me lightly!

The red rider's eyes widen slightly as the mystery man slides back his hood. Underneath it the man has various scars on his brown face, wears his dark hair in long dreads. A metal headband is tightly bound around his head, and his eyebrows appear to remain in a permanent scowl. I, Jahovac Fuerza, challenge you to a fight! The dark man lifts his sword with both hands into the air, ready to swing. Prepare yourself!

Your skin is darker that anyone's I have ever seen before. You must be from one of the Southern regions. The boy smiles as he rubs his chin with a forefinger and thumb. Interesting. You must tell me—

I am not here to chatter, Jahovac tightens his grip of the sword. Let us duel.

Ugh…no, the boy simply replies. Jahovac seems to be confused. I do not want to take part in a battle.

I have challenged you to combat! Jahovac states. Are you afraid?

Um…a little, but really, think about it. Is fighting really worth anything? We beat each other up, for what? For me to run away and fight another day? For your payment? Would it not make more sense to just converse instead?

Jahovac is dumbfounded at this response, but then shakes it off. With clenched teeth, furrowed eyebrows, and narrowed eyes, Jahovac angrily takes two quick steps toward the red rider and swings his massive sword from the side.

"Wait!" the red rider cries as he tries to step back, raising his arms as the flat side of the iron weapon flies to him. The massive metal sword hits him directly in the chest, sending the fourteen year old tumbling onto the ground as cloaked figures move out of the way. The red rider's body slides to a halt and remains perfectly still.

Hey! Jacques shouts at Jahovac as the massive man closes his eyes with a sigh and stabs the ground again with the sword in one arm. I want him alive! You might have killed him!

In a split second, Jahovac grabs Jacques by the neck with his free hand. As Jacques gasps for breath, Jahovac lifts him into the air and slowly turns his head toward Jacques. I hit him with the side of my sword, Jahovac assures him, staring into the leader's one frightened, bloodshot eye. He might have a few broken bones, but you only need him for his mind, correct? Now about my payment…

Hey, a voice calls out to Jahovac from the opposite direction. Could you please let him go? I know he is a jerk, but—

What? Jahovac releases Jacques, the frightened gang leader tumbling to the ground and crawling away, breathing heavily. Someone new wants to fight me?

What is it with you wanting to get into a fight?

Jahovac's eyes pop open in surprise as he realizes who is currently speaking to him. Jahovac turns around, lifts his sword, and swings it yet again at the red rider who now stands, in perfect physical condition, facing Jahovac. The massive sword this time swings with the sharp blade in an attempt to cut at the red rider, but the young man nimbly jumps back out of the weapon's reach.

Hmmm…the strange boy ponders, as Jahovac struggles to halt the sword from its failed slash. It looks like you require a smaller sword. You may be able to swing that huge thing, but I can easily dodge your swings now that I know how fast you can move with it. Even someone with your strength should realize that such proportions are not ideal in a typical fight.

I hit you with more than ten centimeters of thick iron! Jahovac screams at the boy. He huffs from the strain of thrusting his massive sword. How are you still standing?

Jahovac becomes dumbfounded as the boy lifts one arm in front of his chest to reveal a metal shield built into a metallic arm bracer that had folded out from under his jacket sleeve. Do you like it? the strange boy asks with a smile. It is my favorite invention. It's a spring-loaded shield. You can see how useful it is. Perhaps if you were kinder to me, you could have hired me to build you one too…

You are an inventor. Jahovac groans. Great!

Oh, don't be like that. The boy reaches under the retractable shield to pull on a cord. You make it sound like it's a bad thing. The shield retracts back onto the arm bracer, and the boy slides his sleeve back down to conceal it. "We all rely on inventions, even you. At some point in time, someone invented armor and swords after realizing that stone-tipped spears are not very effective.

But you don't care about that, do you? The boy's expression becomes more determined. He reaches for a device strapped to the back of his backpack. No, you would rather just duke it out with someone you barely know. Well, if it is a fight you want— The boy reveals the strange device from his back—some sort of short pole folded up with various attachments on it (similar to his pistols) along with some gears and roller chains like that of a bicycle. The setting sun gleams off its shiny surface. "Then it is a fight you are going to get!

I would use my guns. The boy lifts the device in front of his face and squeezes one end of it thereby initiating a variety of clinking sounds. But I am low on ammunition. The device unfolds into a straight one-meter pole with certain parts shifting to keep it secure. So congratulations— The pole extends another forty centimeters and begins to tick. The red rider grabs the device with his other hand before the end of it falls to the ground from the shift in weight. You get to see my latest invention.

Now that is more like it! Jahovac enthusiastically exclaims. Now let the real fight begin!

Jahovac charges at the strange lad, swinging his sword in every direction he can manage. The teenager simply holds his pole weapon behind his back as it ticks away and just side steps and ducks from each swing of the monstrous weapon. Every bandit keeps his distance, but their eyes are fixated as Jahovac tries again and again to hit the boy to no avail. The boy simply shouts out Missed or Missed again as Jahovac's sword slices and stabs the air, and sometimes breaks through a few stones, splinters a few doors, and shatters glass windows in the surrounding buildings. Jahovac, beginning to tire, huffs as sweat drips down his dark skin, yet he appears determined to strike down his smaller opponent. A bell on Zheph's invention rings after the ticking stops, so he swings it around in front of his body.

I am so tired of this annoyance. The boy sidesteps Jahovac's downward swing and leaps toward the dark man as he thrusts the pole forward. This is the end!

The pole barely misses the side of Jahovac's stomach and harmlessly gets caught on his gray cloak. Really? Jahovac raises an eyebrow as he relaxes while breathing profusely. You criticize me and my sword. Your own aim is horrible.

I wasn't aiming for you. The boy squeezes the end of his device again. After a loud clink from the strange weapon, two focused flames erupt from the ends of the pole.

Jahovac's cloak catches fire, and he is forced to take a step back, stab the ground with his weapon, and take off the cloak with his free hand. Jahovac calmly holds the cloak away from him as flames climb the fabric, inching their way up.

Is that it? Jahovac tosses the cloak aside while keeping his gaze fixed on the boy. You set my cloak on fire? I will throttle you for wasting my time! This is pathetic! Such minor flames will not even make me wince!

As Jahovac stands there with one hand holding his massive sword stuck into the ground, the boy quickly swings the ends of his pole at the massive sword. Jahovac's eyes widen in complete disbelief as glowing streaks pass through his weapon, leaving various lines of glowing red-hot wherever the streaks pass through. A second later, the blade begins to fall apart, three whole pieces of the blade slide down from each other, and even the other end of the handle falls off to the side. Jahovac stands there gazing at his destroyed weapon, finding it hard to believe that the short boy's device somehow managed to melt through his sword. A moment later, the molten metal on the ruined sword cools.

Impossible! Jahovac holds the little stump in his hand, all that is left of his sword's handle. You're just a little wimp!

I don't use brute strength like you. The boy points his pole at Jahovac. The dark man stares in disbelief as he suddenly sees the glowing hot blades sticking out of both ends of the pole. These blades aren't very thick, nor are they long, but they were emitting more heat than a blacksmith's furnace. Cross guards also pivoted out from the weapon in front of the blades, which weren't in that position before. "As you can clearly see, this is not a staff. It is a double-ended spear! I built it with alloys much stronger than steel, and blades that could be heated enough to melt other metals!

Oh, and I am not just some little wimp! The boy he points a thumb at his own chest. The name is Zheph… Zheph Skyre!

The surprised look on Jahovac's face fades into a more relaxed expression despite the scowl. He drops what was left of the handle of his sword, crosses his arms, and sighs. Go ahead and kill me. He hangs his head low. I lost. I have no honor.

Huh? Zheph sticks his double ended spear into the dirt beside him. The glow of the blades diminishes as Zheph relaxes and leans on the weapon. Stop acting stupid and just leave.

What? Are you crazy? I just tried to kill you!

Well, in case you haven't noticed, I managed to incapacitate all my opponents here without killing them. So why would I— Zheph suddenly catches a scent of something odd as he breathes through his nose. He sniffs the air with concern. Is something burning?

Both Zheph and Jacques sniff the air, notice smoke starting to build up to the side of them, and slowly follow the trail of smoke down to growing flames. Apparently, when Jahovac threw his cloak aside after it caught fire, it landed against a wooden crate, which also began to burn.

Oh, come on! Zheph runs his fingers through his hair. This is yet another stupid accident I am going to be blamed for!

Hey, shit happens. Why do you care?

Zheph doesn't pay Jahovac any heed as he grumbles, and reaches into a pocket to withdraw a blue orb, presses a button on it, and throws it at the spreading fire. It lands in the center of the flames and begins to tick. Zheph immediately walks toward his vehicle as he flips a switch on his double-ended spear which allows it to retract and fold back up.

Hey! Jahovac grabs Zheph's arm before the young lad can pass by him. Zheph keeps his gaze straight ahead. From what I have heard, the townsfolk here hate you even more than they hate me! Why do you care about these ignorant people? Besides— Jahovac pulls Zheph even closer, but the boy refuses to turn his head toward the towering man. You have me to worry about right now! And I am not letting you go from this spot until you give me an honorable warrior's death!

A moment of silence passes before the blue orb in the flames rings and explodes with a shower of white foam. The white substance extinguishes all the flames, but the radius of the foam may have spread out too far. Jahovac lets go of Zheph's arm as the tall black man's entire backside was suddenly coated in white foam. Luckily for Zheph, Jahovac's position manages to shield him from most of it. Jahovac's eyes remain wide with surprise as Zheph continues to walk toward his vehicle and straps his weapon onto the back of his backpack.

I will kill you. Foam drips from Jahovac's dreadlocks.

You and everyone else who lives here. Zheph puts his helmet back on and mounts his vehicle. He pulls a cord, and the vehicle roars to life. The boy drives off into the distance, leaving Jahovac and the Scar in disarray.

My dear mercenary, Jacques strolls up to Jahovac, his arms casually behind his back, his eye closed, and with a lighthearted smile. Jahovac turns his gaze toward the gang leader, but keeps an angry scowl. "I told you this direct approach would not work. Zheph is very evasive.

But that is why I hired you, Jacques raises his index finger. You want a rematch with him, correct? Then you are going to have to use your other skills, as we discussed earlier.

Jahovac looks straight down, narrowing his eyes in frustration as his fists tighten and tremble. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and sighs with resignation, as foam continues to drip off his body.

Meanwhile, Zheph drives through the city streets, as if he had no further obstacles. However, suddenly a rotten tomato hits the side of his helmet, followed by more rotten vegetables accompanied with small rocks.

Get out of here, you little devil! shouts the angered priest of the Church of Eternal Light, accompanied by his loyal followers. Enraged townsfolk also gather on the other side to assist with the barrage of garbage, stones, and insults. One person points back at the vast numbers of damaged property Zheph left behind from his encounter. Your magic costs us dearly!

Zheph slowly reaches up to grab the splattered tomato on his helmet as pebbles and vegetables collide against him. He places the tomato gently into his pocket and turns his vehicle in a different direction. The townsfolk keep shouting at him as he speeds out of their reach and shake their angry fists at him. As Zheph rides on, a few other angry people occasionally come out of hiding to try to throw something his way and cry out insult after insult. Others remain in hiding hoping Zheph would not create more destructive chaos in their streets. Whenever he can, Zheph takes some of the rotten garbage and collects it in his pockets.

*****

Within the walls, this city is divided into eight sections by eight stone bridges, made from the same stones with which the walls were built, leading from the outer wall to the interior wall which surrounds a magnificent castle. Each of these sections inside the city have two humongous green disks with a matching symbol for each section. Whatever the tof these symbols are has long been forgotten. Four huge doors at equal distances around the wall remain closed, but as to when the last time they were opened for anyone to enter or leave, no one could tell you.

Apart from the overwhelming castle, the majority of the rest of the city lays in disrepair. In one section, there are farms with barely any fertile crops and only starved animals around. Despite the river providing an abundant source of water, plants hardly grow with the lack of sunlight.

In another section is a lake where many of the fish float dead on the surface. Most of the city uses the river which flows through the city for discarding garbage, for utilizing as a latrine, and for disposing the dead as funeral arrangements are expensive. All of this makes it unbearable for marine life to flourish. Few fishermen remain, and those that do use fishing poles, no longer nets.

There is a section where libraries and schools are all condemned. No longer do people of this city attempt to learn and further themselves. These once well-maintained buildings for educational development are now falling apart, and only serve to provide homes for hundreds of poor beggars.

The sector with theaters and art studios remains almost the same as the dreadful condition that the academic section is in. Few artists remain, and they struggle to survive. The only entertainment that remains in this section are small puppet shows along with public torture and executions.

The shopping district has half the shops it once had. Most stores in this section of the city have been abandoned due to constant theft.

Of course, there are a few areas within the city that have remained prosperous. For instance, the section reserved for the wealthy and privileged in their fine manors still flourishes. Very few estates are in this city, and these lush homes are encircled by tall metal fences surrounding green lawns and beautiful gardens. It is obvious these wealthy individuals can afford products from outside the city walls.

The knights who keep order in their section are provided with nice houses and training grounds. They even have a well-built area reserved for jousts and other tournament games to entertain the wealthy class. In exchange for patronizing their games and providing them with abundant incomes, the knights patrol the estates of the wealthy to keep law and order in this section, second only to their task of protecting the fortified castle that remains behind a circular moat and high wall. The only other building within this section of the city is the cathedral, where the Church of Eternal Light practices and teaches the city's only religion. As a source for enlightenment, this religious sect is extremely corrupt, since the church demands and hoards donations as well as teaches everyone to discriminate against abnormal individuals.

The blacksmiths are also given a good section of the city as they work very hard for the knights and the rich. Few steal from these hard-working men since they are always well armed with their own products. It appears, however, that most of them accept commissions from various shady characters.

Eventually Zheph arrives at the slums. He parks his steam-powered machine right in front of what remains of the largest library in the city. The white building once had beautiful steps leading up to huge columns with ionic capitals in front of numerous doors. These entryways in the front and back were always open and welcoming. On the other two sides there used to be tall, colorful stained glass windows depicting proud historical events. Now the entire structure is crumbling, stained grayish-brown. The doors are chained shut, and the once grand windows are now shattered, obscuring whatever history they once told to even those who were illiterate. Very few know what sort of condition the interior is in.

After Zheph places his helmet onto the seat of his vehicle, he steps up to the library ruins. He pulls back one sleeve and pulls a knob on the bottom of a contraption at the end of the arm bracer that also has the retractable shield on the top side. He then aims his arm up at the edge of the library's roof. A grappling hook shoots out of the device with a loud squeal of air, and a thin metallic cord trails after it. The sharp point of the grappling hook strikes hard into the edge of the roof, and the device winds up the cord, pulling Zheph all the way to the edge of the roof.

Zheph climbs up onto the expansive, flat roof of the library where multiple devices of the exact same design are spread out, each accompanied by a wide flat pitcher that gathers rain water. Each device is bolted onto the roof and has a long metallic cord leading up somewhere high into the air. Zheph walks up to one of these contraptions, being careful to avoid certain unsafe steps he is completely aware of, and steps on one of two protruding pedals. The metallic cord winds up, pulling down something large that appears to be floating high above the city walls. Zheph lifts his foot from the pedal as soon as he stands face to face with one of his floating vegetable garden patches at the end of the cord. Before him are peas, beans, tomatoes, and carrots growing in rows of moist, fertile soil in a trough attached to a large balloon. The balloon has various tubes fed into it, leading down the cables attached to the trough to canisters containing gas.

Some of the vegetables look ripe, but Zheph's focus goes first to the rotten tomato in his pocket. He plucks out the seeds, plants them in the soil, stuffs the rotten food he collected in his pockets into the soil, and then waters the vegetables with one of the nearby pitchers. As he tends to the vegetation, he rubs a few fresh bruises he received during today's events.

Chapter 2

The Dinner

Within the castle walls of Heartrogard stands a magnificent palace with a roof that comes to a point and three equally tall, spiraling towers standing before it. The palace itself is the tallest structure in all of the land, with many brightly colored stained glass windows, various balconies with beautiful double doors, and a multitude of windows with intricately designed panes. Many of these features are lost to the eyes of almost everyone, as few people are ever allowed past the giant wall and circular moat. There are eight drawbridges leading out from the castle wall to each section of the city, but a few of them have rusted shut from lack of use and maintenance as certain sections became unappealing over the years.

The most prominent features of the castle are the two largest stained glass windows on the front. One forms a diamond shape to fit with the high roof and on it stood a proud, young king from years ago, ordained with a golden crown, detailed armor, a strikingly vivid sword, a shield, and angelic wings against a starry background. Below that stained-glass window and a row of balconies is another stained glass window with an image of a dragon. This window is larger in size allowing the great, flying serpent to whined its way through a starry night sky.

Deep within the castle, in a guarded dining room filled with tapestries and candlelit chandeliers, an old man angrily argues with his timid wife. They both sit from the ends of a long table with expensive silverware, glasses, and plates laid out before them. They sit at a long, highly polished, carved, wooden table surrounded by tall luxuries, on wooden chairs with red cushions. Outside the room, two guards uneasily look at each other as they listen to the loud ramblings of this timeworn man.

Do not question my parenting! the old man shouts from the head of the table. This wrinkled aged man wears a golden crown adorned with diamond shaped, violet gems, blue robes, a cerium cape with white fur trim, a white ruff around his neck, and a purple breastplate. His face was powdered heavily with white makeup except for where his facial hair grew into a long, grey beard along with his thin eyebrows that hung over faded blue eyes with purple eyeshadow colored around them. His eyes are permanently scowling as he shouted down the table.

I-I-I was not, His wife wears a dress with the same color scheme as her husband, with similar makeup on her face except for a splash of magenta on her cheeks and lips. On her head was a golden tiara encrusted with large, round purple gems. Underneath her makeup, she too was old and wrinkled but with pale-brown eyes. I-I-I was only…making a-a—

We are the rulers of this land! And we must look and act as such!

Re-really? If we are the rulers of this land, we should be able to act and appear as we want.

And set a bad example for our loyal noblemen and neighboring countrymen?!

Why should we care what other countries think of us, Albert? the Queen asks.

Lisa, we have to find suitors for our daughters! the king claims. Our reputation is bad enough as it is! That little accident cost us dearly. For goodness sake, a nobleman's son was found dead in our courtyard, murdered by that foul little boy! Our daughters have a lot of work ahead of them now if any of them wish to become the next queen and continue our lineage!

But why should any of them be forced to dress this way? the queen asks, growing tired of this argument but having no energy to become angry like her husband. Especially when the only five of us are having dinner? I mean, it takes nearly an hour alone just to be dressed in all this expensive attire. Is this really what is required of us? Do our daughters even want to be betrothed?

That does not matter! the king shouted as servants comes in with luxurious, silver platters of food and canters of wine. The servants are of foreign colors of skin uncommon to the majority of the city. I want them to be happy!

Being betrothed doesn't mean they will.

May I present the two most beautiful ladies of Corthon! a male servant interrupts the queen with a booming voice. He stands next to the main doorway to the private dining room behind the king. With one hand on his chest in a polite fashion, he extends his other toward the door where two other servants stand waiting to open the two large doors. Here are Princess Marybeth and Princess Cornelia!

Oh, not with this rehearsed entrance again— The king strokes his forehead with his index finger and thumb. He turns his head to the door as the two servants slowly open it.

In come the two teenage princesses, with their heads held high. The younger princess has lovely auburn hair, green eyes, and a lovely magenta dress with gold trimming. The eldest princess, slightly taller, has just as lovely golden hair, light blue eyes, and an emerald-green dress with gold trimming. Both princesses have gold rings on their fingers and ears along with necklaces, but they wear thin, silver tiaras on their heads. These girls would have been beautiful with their shapely bodies and their perfectly shaped faces, but they wear such angry, proud scowls and too much white makeup on their faces with peach and bright pink coloring around their eyes, cheeks, and lips.

That introduction was appalling, the auburn haired princess, Marybeth, scoffs. You barely read any of the speech we wrote for you…again!

Remind us to have that servant expelled from the castle grounds, Cornelia orders everyone within earshot. He might do better in the slums along with the rest of the trash!

Why hello, my dear daughters. The king gives the two princesses a joyful grin. How have my darlings been?

We are both infuriated! Marybeth pouts as she and Cornelia stride across the room past their seated father.

What is it this time? The king groans.

None of those filthy commoners paid any heed to us! Cornelia protests as they arrive to their seats. No one complements us on our exquisite beauty anymore! Two servant girls each pull out a chair fora princess to sit at the dining table. Once Cornelia and Marybeth take their seats, the servants push their chairs in. Meanwhile, other servants distribute healthy amounts of food to their plates. All the domestics refrain from looking directly at the princesses' faces in absolute fear. Marybeth and Cornelia are disinterested in their timid behavior.

Where is Vanessa? the queen asks, as she whispers her thanks to the servants who wait on all of them.

Why do we even consider her our sister? Marybeth pokes her food with her fork. She is a disgrace to the Awean royal bloodline!

Do not fret over her, dear sister. Cornelia cuts into her slice of ham. She isn't worth worrying about.

I apologize if I have offended you all in some way, comes a calm, female voice from the doorway where the princesses had entered. But I believe I should be true to myself rather than pretend to be something I am not.

The king turns his head to the double doors that were left open, and he groans as his eyes rest on his third teenage daughter. This princess wears a dark, morbid dress comprising of a black corset that accentuates her bosom with dark-gray. The dress also has puffy sleeves and skirt that looks as if torn from a death shroud and resewn together. She wears her raven-colored hair in wild pigtails on both sides of her head, held up by two hairbands attached to cartoony, human skulls while her long bangs hide most of her face. She wears very detailed skull makeup with cracks and shading included. Her ears hold three piercings, two silver loops along the helix on each side and a silver stud on each lobe. To finish off her ensemble, she wears a spiked dog collar around her neck.

You must be joking, Vanessa. Her father turns away. Why do you wear such odd attire? It is completely inappropriate for someone in your position!

What is so appealing about dressing like a corpse? Cornelia asks. Do you want to sleep in a graveyard?

I still say she practices witchcraft, Marybeth chimes in. She reeks of the devil's scent.

Vanessa strides into the room at a steady pace despite the numerous retorts from her household members. Only her mother offers her a quick smile as she walks into the dining room, and Vanessa smiles back at her for a brief moment before they both change their expressions back to their normal impassive states.

And what have you been up to today, should I ask? the king inquires as Vanessa walks by him to her designated chair. Servants are busy dishing out portions of food to his satisfaction. I hope you're not getting into anymore trouble!

I have been reading, writing, fencing, practicing my violin… Vanessa recites a list before she has to take a moment of reflection of her day. Whatever comes to mind. I would try something new, but since I am confined within these walls I am rather limited in options.

Her father groans with fatigue at that last comment. Suddenly a scowl forms on his face as Vanessa pulls her chair out and proceeds to seat herself at the table. Servants offer to help her with gestures, but she smiles at them with a raised hand. Do not pull in your own chair! He bangs a fist on the table. We have domestics here for your assistance! You are a princess and it is about time you start behaving like one!

Come now, Father, these people deserve to have their workload lessened, Vanessa skootches her seat closer to the table. These so-called domestics receive far too little payment for the constant work they are forced to do. I find it amazing that you don't refer to them as slaves after everything you put them through.

He father shakes his head at her in disappointment, but she refuses to acknowledge it, as she dishes out her own food.

Do you think these servants deserve to be raised to our level? Cornelia chuckles and smiles as she slices a bite of ham and raises it to her lips. Or do you wish to lower yourself to theirs?

Perhaps you should join them, Vanessa, Marybeth laughs and grins, has as she too raises a tiny piece of succulent meat to her mouth. Perhaps you should take over for all their duties. We'll have you tend to our every need, even washing out our chamber pots!

The two sisters laugh as Vanessa continues to reach across the table and place food onto her plate. The king seems amused by these remarks while the queen wore a saddened expression.

At least I would be doing something useful with my time, Vanessa calmly claims. Her sisters wear irritated gazes, barely chewing on the food in their mouths. So any retorts they had would have to wait, due to manners. Before she cuts up some ham herself and places it into her mouth, she adds, Because discussing how everything appalls you with each other as you lounge about getting waited on all day seems like a very grand contribution to—well, nothing really.

Cornelia and Marybeth are both fuming as they swallow the masticated meat in their mouths. Just as they begin to assault the Goth girl with loud, obnoxious insults, the double doors push open, and in strides Sir Luther, still wearing his clanking armor, creating a loud ruckus.

Good evening, sire! the blond knight greets enthusiastically. I have excellent news, I have a fool-proof method figured out for capturing that renegade murderer—Zheph!

Luther, you imbecile! the king shouts at the encumbered knight who's now quite ashamed of himself. You are interrupting the dinner of the royal family! Whatever new scheme you have hatched, can you not wait until after my family and I have a peaceful meal? Your intrusion is quite rude!

Oh…my apologies, my Lord, Sir Luther places one gauntleted hand on his chest and bows his head. The king resumes eating the roasted pheasant on his plate. A few seconds later, the sound of squeaking armor comes closer to him, and the king groans in response. But no, this cannot wait.

You must be delusional, like always, Luther, Vanessa insists, after swallowing a bite of her meal. The knight fumes at the darkly dressed princess. Zheph is by far too smart for you. He has proven it time and time again. Just give it a rest.

He is not smarter than me!

For once, we actually agree with Vanessa, Marybeth admits, as she holds her fork an inch from her mouth. Luther's eyes gaze at her with intense anger.

You are a bumbling fool, Luther, Cornelia holds a merciless gaze. You barely capture any criminals here in Heartrogard. It is a curiosity as to why our father hasn't already relieved you of your title after so many failures.

I will capture that little devil! Blood vessels threaten to burst on Luther's forehead. I swore an oath to the Duke of Sonyar himself that I would bring Zheph to justice for killing his son! That little monster—

Are you positive that is the main reason you desire to arrest Zheph so intensely? The king raises an eyebrow. Could it be that you only want to capture him because that little ‘devil' has singlehandedly shamed you? …constantly?

Luther scratches the side of his head after his anger turns to complete embarrassment. He tries to hide his humiliation with an awkward smile. "I have no idea of what you