“Oh,” Cirayus said, crestfallen. “Well, that’s a letdown…”
“Sorry?” Asuman asked, confused.
“Nothing,” Cirayus replied, waving the governor’s concerns away with two of his hands. “I suppose I’ll take my leave, then.”
“Er, of course,” Asuman replied, clearly thrown off-balance. “Welcome back to civilization,” he said as an afterthought.
“Thank you,” Cirayus replied over his shoulder. “I have a feeling this realm is about to get quite interesting.” He cast a knowing smirk at Vir, who suppressed the urge to sigh.
It didn’t take long for Asuman to sign the decree, which Vir asked to have copied. He left the royal palace with a copy of the declaration in hand, but instead of handing it straight to the rebellion, he pinned several up on a pole in the very center of town, where it’d be seen by all—Chitran and Gargan alike.
Vir retreated and watched as passersby gave the papers a once-over, before doing double takes and reading it with their full attention—their expressions shifting from confusion to wonderment, and for some, to suspicion and even outright anger, depending on political leanings.
It wasn’t a true victory, Vir reflected. Not in the grand scheme of things. Nor was it a rebellion. It was, however, a step away from the edge of the Ash.
That’ll have to suffice. For now.
Vir made his way back to the orphanage, thinking to regroup with Janani, but a prana signature sitting on a barrel within the rebel’s warehouse forced him to divert.
Vir landed lightly at the entrance, pausing as he placed his hand on the door.
Cirayus is back…
Vir knew what that meant. It meant his godfather had finished whatever preparations he’d hoped to make.
And it meant Vir would likely leave Samar Patag soon, bound for whichever destination the giant had planned.
Vir hesitated.
For the first time in a very long time, he didn’t want to leave. After a lifetime, after crossing a blighted realm, he’d finally found demonkind. The land of his birth. The city that was once his.
And it felt good. Ever since Camas and his goons alienated him in Brij, Vir longed to fit in. They’d made him crave that feeling of inclusion.
A hole he’d thought he’d plugged when he’d found Tia. And then again, with the Pagan Order. In both cases, the storms of Fate conspired to force him on, seeking ever more distant shores.
Now he’d crossed that horizon, and he didn’t want to go.
Don’t forget why you’re here, he reminded himself, squashing such selfish thoughts. He wasn’t meant to live a comfortable life. He was here to save his people. And to do that, he’d do whatever it took.
Vir turned the handle and entered.
“When I told you to live with your people, I must say, I never expected to return to a masked hero and a rebellion,” Cirayus said, tapping one of the many facsimile masks that had become so popular around the city. “Are you trying to start one? A rebellion, I mean.”
Vir stopped in his tracks. “No, I—”
“Well, count me in if you are, lad!” Cirayus said, laughing heartily. “Been waiting for the day ever since you were born.”
I bet you have, Vir thought wryly.
“I’m not,” Vir replied, taking a seat on a wooden crate across from the giant. “I’m actually trying to stop one.”
“Ha! You’re doing a piss-poor job of that, lad,” Cirayus said, tapping the mask. “These sorts of things are pretty much destined to cause them. What were you thinking, devising such a powerful persona? Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I think it’s grand. A stroke of genius, even. Just… unexpected.”
“Cirayus, Gargans have no lives,” Vir said, looking off into the distance. Past the warehouse walls. Past the Chitran sector and into the slums. “No, it’s worse than that. They’re pretty much prisoners here. To this day, the Chitran subjugate my people, subjecting them to a life barely worth living. I couldn’t bring myself to witness all that and do nothing, Cirayus. Something had to change.”
“Aye, and dangerous gambit it is, lad. You walk a razor’s edge between peace and anarchy.”
“I know,” Vir murmured.
“You’ve succeeded, then? Seeing how Gargans aren’t rioting in the streets as we speak?”
“I think so,” Vir said. “Asuman has agreed to abolish the Outcast Calling and remove the limitations on Gargans preventing them from moving between Callings.”
“And?” Cirayus said, crossing his arms. “Are you satisfied with this state of affairs?”
“Of course not,” Vir scoffed. “But a rebellion now would be suicide. I’ve seen what the rebels here are like, and I’m not convinced the city would be any better with them in power, even if they did succeed. Which they wouldn’t.”
“Aye. So I’ve learned,” Cirayus said sadly. “The real warriors have been sifted out, put to work elsewhere. Only the dregs remain.”
“You’ve been gone so long,” Vir said, shifting topics to what he hoped was a lighter one. “I take it you accomplished whatever it is you set out to do?”
“Aye,” Cirayus said, stroking his beard pensively. “I learned of what transpired after I left this realm. And of what is to come.”
“What do you mean?” Vir asked.
“As you may already have learned, the Chitran force Gargan warriors to fight at the Ash Boundary. A policy that went into effect soon after the fall of Samar Patag, I’m afraid. While the years since may not have been kind to the denizens of this city, they have been far worse for those doomed to fight at the Boundary.”
“The Boundary…” Vir echoed.
He’d known this was the case. It’d torn open a hole in his heart when he’d first heard of it from Janani. A hole that grew wider with each day that passed, bringing with it more Gargan deaths.
“And yet, there can be no successful rebellion without the aid of the Gargan Warriors who remain,” Cirayus said. “By virtue of their continued survival, the survivors there are all grizzled veterans. Said to be among the best in the realm.”
Vir grunted in approval. “Fighting Ash Beasts day in and day out will do that to you.”
“Aye,” Cirayus said. “And it is why you must venture there.”
Vir looked the demon in the eyes. “You want me to unite the Warriors there?” he asked, surprised Cirayus had brought it up. He’d already been hatching plans for rescuing his Warrior brothers.
Cirayus held up the mask. “You seem to have a knack for this kind of thing. Word has already spread to the other clans. Which means it has also spread to the Boundary. Rally those warriors. Protect them. Give them the hope they need to fight for a brighter tomorrow.”
Vir bit his lip. Yes, he’d planned on going, even if Cirayus hadn’t brought it up. Yet, the thought of leaving Samar Patag so soon, especially now after they had won such a hard-fought victory, wrenched his gut.
“Does it have to be right away?” Vir asked. “As much as I want to help them, the city is in a tumultuous state right now. I don’t know if I should leave just yet.”
Even if he left Shan behind to guard the place in his stead, Samar Patag would need help navigating the new world, and Bolin was still unconscious. How could he leave now, when his people needed him the most?
“Alas, lad. I wish you could. For there is a reason to hurry,” Cirayus said, the corners of his mouth inching upward. “The Bairan Tournament is to take place later this year, and you need to be there.”
The Bairan Tournament, Vir thought, chills running down his arms. His only opportunity to obtain Balancer of Scales.
“You have served them well,” Cirayus said. “Your clan is a hardy bunch. They’ll survive without you. But tell me. Will your rebellion benefit from having Clan Baira’s Ultimate Tattoo?” Cirayus asked, studiously examining his fingernails.