5. Maestro

Champions: Maestro is a collection of 5 short stories written by Ryan Kaufman, VP of Narrative, Jam City.

A Keymaster in all her glory.

Prologue - The History Lesson

Jun trudged along the edge of the dirt road, skirting the waist-high wall of weeds that demarcated the wild part of the world. He was too young to be traveling alone, but home was not a place he could stay anymore.

Jun had set his will toward one goal. And that goal could only be achieved in Massina City. He was already weary and hungry, and when he saw that the dirt road rose up ahead into the foothills, and then over a high pass, his heart sank. The City was on the other side; there would be a lot more walking in the meantime.

As he walked, and scanned the dry fields and withered orchards for something to eat, he heard the iron creak and wood wheels of a wagon coming up behind him. As the wagon drew near, he saw the driver was an old crone, hunched under a mousy-brown hood and ratty wool cloak.

“You’re a little young to be out here on your own,” said the crone. The old black sumpter-horse snorted, as its face tentacles groomed its leathery muzzle serenely.

He shrugged. “I’m headed to Massina. No other way to get there.”

“Tell you what,” she said, with a voice that was measured and firm. “I’m traveling to Massina as well. But I could use some assistance. In exchange for doing a small errand when we reach the city, I will give you a ride.”

She turned to look at him, and Jun could now see into the folds of her hood. Her face was not wrinkled and tired, but gracefully worn and sad, like the statue of an ancient goddess. He wondered if she were actually human. The suspicion in him commanded that he refuse her offer, but his hungry, tired body took over, and he found himself clambering up into the seat next to her. The woman k’tched at the horse, and they began moving again.

Between them, on the wide seat, was a crude box, made of cheap wood. Someone had wrapped a black chain and lock around it, and the box rattled as the wheels went over the uneven road. Something inside rolled or moved.

“What’s that?” Jun asked.

“A trifle. I’ll tell you when we get there,” she said. “What’s your business in Massina, anyway?”

“I’m going there to prove myself,” Jun replied, puffing up a little. “I’m going to become a Maestro, and train a Champion. Together, we’ll conquer the Colosseum Eternal, and then the Emperor himself will shower us with gold and fame.”

The old woman smiled. “So, you have this all worked out, then? Which House will you fight for?”

Jun’s forehead wrinkled in concern. She’d hit on a blind spot in his plan. “Does it matter?”

“You don’t know much about the Eternal Houses, if that’s your attitude, son.” The old woman laughed to herself. “Didn’t they teach you about them in school?”

“There was no school where I grew up.” Jun flashed back to empty, windswept fields and abandoned farmhouses.

“Pfft,” the woman raised her eyes to the sky in frustration. “The people of this country are left to wallow in ignorance like pigs before slaughter. The Emperor still doesn’t value a good education!”

Jun shrank back. “I’d like to learn. I just don’t have anyone to teach me.”

The House of Life

They rode along in silence for a while. Then the old woman cleared her throat. “Alright, then. Let’s begin at the beginning.”

***

“In the beginning,” she said, “there were four Great Houses. Not three, but four.”

“I thought there were seven.”

“You will need to keep your interruptions to a minimum, boy. There is much to cover.”

“Yes, mistress. Sorry.”

“The Houses derived their power from the diverse Essences of the Titans. The so-called Ancient Ones.”

Jun snapped his fingers. “I know about them! The Ancient Ones fought and broke Massina into the ten continents. Then they were locked away in Hell!”

“What did I just say?” Her grey eyes found him, and Jun felt the power behind them. “At any rate, the imprisoned Titans release Essences that still permeate our world. The Great Houses became receptors for that energy, each specializing in a different vibration or strain.”

She continued. “The first House is the House of Life. It channels the Essence that gives all living things their power, their spark. From tiny seeds grow great trees, they say. They worship a Goddess they call the Mother of Life. She is more than a Titan; more than even a god really, something much more. The Champions of the House of Life often call on her power, to give them strength, or even resurrection after defeat.”

“Its adherents are, as one might imagine, friendly. Even upbeat. They value honor above all else. They strive to bring glory to their House and to the Mother goddess. And she in turn smiles on them. The Temple itself is a true work of art. One cannot help feel the swell of life itself when one enters, like waking up on a beautiful summer morning.”

The boy considered this notion. “Well, that’s where I want my Champion to be from!”

“Oh, is it just that easy? You just walk up to the House of Life and say ‘give me a Champion please, thank you’?”

“No…” he admitted. Jun was young, but he knew well enough– nothing good was ever easy.

“No, it is not,” she said. “The House of Life can be controlling. They do not easily let go of that which they possess– much like Life itself. And their enemies are hateful and dangerous. The House of Death undermine and oppose them at every turn. And the Librarians of the Arcane find them simplistic and contemptible. The three now exist in perpetual opposition.”

The House of Death

“The second house, the House of Death, worship the dark power of the great unknown. Inscribed above the door are the House words; The Only Inevitability in Life is Death. Their Essence boils with green smoke. The House itself is a cavern, which looms over the streets of Massina, and rots the nearby houses and docks. But those who have braved the House of Death and emerged with their lives speak not of horrible ghouls or dark magic — they speak of the silence, a sound so empty and lonely, that it forever sears itself into their memory. A feeling of hopeless loss. The music of Death.

“But, the House of Death also has an incredible power– both repellent and irresistible. Its members are blessed with a lack of fear. For they embrace the end of Life.”

“No fear?” Jun contemplated possessing a Champion with such a strength.

“Only one,” she corrected herself. “They fear the Essence of Life, which can make them suddenly feel the enormity of their loss.”

“What about the other two Houses?”

“Patience, boy. The third House is the House of the Arcane, known as the Library. The founding of this house begins with a legend. Long ago, a medicine man and his son were exploring a dark cave. The boy slipped and fell down a deep shaft, into the bowels of the Earth. The man rushed down to rescue him, but when he found the spot, his son had vanished. On the walls of the shaft were written words which he tried to decipher. As he struggled to translate the strange script, an energy emerged, which he called the Arcane. And when he began to master and channel it, he taught his methods to others.

“But his clan feared this new power. They had questions. Where was his son? Who had written the words? He said their concerns were petty. So they exiled him and burned his scrolls. Thereafter, he hid his learnings in that dark cave, away from those who did not understand.

“Over the thousands of years, a great colony of knowledge has grown in their towers and labyrinthian libraries. The Arcane are masters of magic, summoning, and other mystical arts. They derive their skill from an incredible underground archive of books, scrolls, and other materials known only to them. Hence, rivals refer to them as “The Librarians” — a supposed insult that the House takes pride in. No one, not even the Emperor, has amassed as much scholarship about the secret workings of the universe. Knowledge can undo an Empire, they are fond of saying.

“But their lust for the Arcane has led them into corruption and paranoia. The Librarians do not trust outsiders. They do not regard non-mages as being worthy of their time. And perhaps their isolation is not just bad manners– for rumors tell us the Librarians often seek knowledge where it should not be sought. Their methods can often be … disturbing.”

Jun shivered. “And what about the House of the World? What happened to them?”

She sighed. “The House of the World were a congregation of beautiful children. Possessed of every characteristic of our world. The lightness of air, the cool quenching life-giving water, the warmth of fire, the familiar and solid foundations of dirt and earth and stone. They were diverse and yet singular in vision and purpose. The House of the World somehow managed to create alliances with Life, Death and the Arcane.”

“However, this made them overly powerful, in the eyes of the Emperor. And soon, they began to regard themselves as the true, natural leaders of Massina. A young charismatic priestess rose to power. I remember her well.”

“You remember her?” Jun instantly realized his mistake, and put his hand over his mouth. But how could this old crone know a priestess from thousands of years ago?

“Her name was Gaia, and she gathered the Houses together in a coalition never before seen in the history of Massina. She questioned the Emperor’s stranglehold over the people. His insistence on gladiatorial combat. And his right to rule, based on domination and power.

“The Emperor, a man who called himself Tributus, sanctioned the House, and ordered her arrest. But the House resisted. A terrible civil war broke out, and many in Massina were swept up in the conflict. In the end, the Emperor drew upon the ranks of the Colosseum gladiators in order to prevail.

“Mercenary Champions from the House of Death stormed the House of the World and killed everyone inside. Beautiful Gaia was grabbed by a Whisperer, flown up to the highest tower of the Palace, and dropped onto the cobblestone streets.”

She seemed lost in a soft moment, then her face turned hard with scorn. “Emperor Tributus always enjoyed a poetic flourish.” After that, the old woman stopped talking for a long while. Jun turned and looked out at the passing fields and scrub.

“The Emperor disbanded the House of the World. He cast any remaining rebels into the arena, where the Champions finished them off, to the jeers of the Emperor’s loyal hand-picked crowd. The House of the World was no more. His revenge became a legacy and a lesson. Since then, no House dares tempt the wrath of an Emperor.”

She gazed up into the approaching mountains. The blue turquoise stone of the Villebrew ridge glowed a soft pink at its edges, in the fading light. “Slowly, over time, like weeds from the cracks of a great temple, four new sibling Houses rose up: Air, Water, Fire and the Mountain.”

“Although the Titans are gone, their Essences battle on. The energy of Life triumphs over Death, and Death dominates the Arcane, while Arcane defies the rules of Life.”

“Seven Eternal Houses,” Jun said, nodding. “Now I understand.”

The sumpter-horse lurched to a stop. A low gargle rumbled from its throat.

The old woman, alarmed, whipped her head to the right, peering off into the dusk. “Shh, quiet.”

Jun sat up, and he, too, strained to see. He wanted to ask what she was looking for, but he held his tongue. The road was surrounded by a low matted chaparral, a thicket impenetrable to his eye.

“I thought these roads had been cleared,” she growled.

Jun heard only a cracking of branches a few feet away, before his world turned upside down.

***

First he heard the horse scream in terror, and then a large humanoid form leapt overhead. The sumpter-horse tried to bolt in its bridle, causing the wagon to lurch sickeningly sideways, and Jun felt himself, the old woman, and the box sliding out and into the air.

He landed hard, the wind knocked out of him. But for Jun, such a blunt shock was all too familiar. He’d gotten enough of them at home. He was able to stand, and there he saw a vaguely man-like creature, standing in the chapparal. The old woman was injured; she pulled herself along, her legs dragging behind her, into the shelter of the wagon. “Boy!” she cried. “Take this!”

She produced a thin, silver sword, and Jun took it without question. He waved it at the creature, who took a step back. Its dark thorny arms and legs looked powerful and agile, while its tail whipped around, bristling with spines. What Jun took for a head looked almost like a ruby-red flower bud, surrounded by a dark green mane.

“It’s an audraticus,” she grunted. “A thorn-sprite! Very territorial. Very aggressive.”

“What should I do?” Jun cried. The creature’s bud opened up in segmented petals, revealing sharp pin-like teeth inside. But its advance was checked by the sword, much to Jun’s relief.

“Just keep waving the sword,” she yelled. “And don’t let it–”

Suddenly the audraticus flared into flame, emanating from its head. But the creature seemed unhurt. In fact, it dipped its head into the chapparal, which began to smoke.

“Uh, I think it’s setting a fire,” Jun stuttered.

“We need to go. Now!” The old woman closed her eyes, and to Jun’s wonder, she shoved the entire bulk of the heavy wagon upright– with one arm. The horse, confined by its reins, started again in panic. “Help me up,” she called to Jun.

Dumbstruck, he helped her crawl back into the seat. The chaparral sparked and small fires spread toward the road. Jun pulled the horse’s reins back into order, and with a snap, he was able to drive it forward.

“Wait! Damn it!” The old woman grabbed his arm with a punishing strength. “The box! The box!”

Jun saw the box, lying in the ditch by the flaming brush. The audraticus hissed and paced, with an impatient intimidation, trying to scare them off. The boy hopped down, cinders in his eyes, and scuttled over to the box. The flames were hot, searing his face, and he reached quickly into the brush to grab the box. He dodged backwards just before the teeth of the creature snapped onto his wrist.

He leapt into the wagon, and they sped off, as fast as the rickety wheels would allow.

***

As night fell, they finally summited the high pass, and the lights of Massina City lay in the valley below. The moon reflected off the great bay, and Jun thought he could spot the fabled Harbor of the Fallen. All of his questions about the woman, the box, and the sword melted away. He felt a great thrill inside his chest. The old woman, however, cursed and muttered under her breath.

“Prometheus assured me the roads had been cleared.”

“What do you mean?” Jun asked her.

“He hired a squad of Champions to disperse or destroy any aggressive creatures along the road. It’s not uncommon for gladiators to take a contract like that. But usually they do a better job,” she said with a grimace. “I suppose I should be happy we only ran into an audraticus. There are far more dangerous beasts to encounter.”

Jun tried not to stare at her. He knew by now she was no ordinary woman. Her strength, her unusual memory and age. The strange marking on her forehead. But he dared not ask.

“I should thank you,” she said, sensing his curiosity. “For what you did back there. Helping me.”

“You didn’t seem to need my help,” he ventured, carefully.

“Well… I do, and I don’t. The arms are still strong, but the legs don’t work worth a damn.” She scowled, then looked sheepish. “Sorry. I used to have better manners. I was a royal tutor, if you can believe that.”

“A teacher?”

“Yes,” she said. “To the most powerful man in Massina.”

She must mean the Emperor, Jun thought. But for some reason, she won’t say his name. Jun had learned enough about adults and their sore spots, to not ask.

He changed the subject. “What do you do now? Why are you traveling?”

“I work for a man named Doctor Prometheus. And, like the great Houses, you will be hearing a lot more about him if you wish to be a Maestro. A trainer of Champions.”

Jun looked down at the box. “Is that who this is for?”

The old woman nodded.

Before he could stop himself, Jun blurted out: “What’s in it?”

She smiled, with a grim expression that he did not enjoy. “The less you know about that, the better.”

They rode on in silence. Jun was dying to ask more about the Seven Eternal Houses. What of the House of Air? Why were they called the Acolytes? And the House of the Mountain? Was it related to the ancient lands of the Mountain King? But the woman seemed tired, her eyes fixed forward on the road. They entered through a small unnamed gate and made their way into Massina City.

***

By the time they reached the Ministry of Bone, Jun’s eyes were glazed with exhaustion from the lights and creatures and the bizarre parade of Massina City. He felt like he had drunk from a waterfall, and craved just to close his eyes for a moment and enjoy a moment of peace. Was his journey from the quiet countryside a mistake? Had he been a fool to think he could survive in the city?

But the wagon rattled to a stop. Over them loomed a massive building, with great stone spires reaching up into the night sky. The roofline was illuminated by a leering skull, hundreds of feet high, floating impossibly in a swirling sea of pale blue light, which flickered through its empty eye sockets. Jun could see the dour statues of learned men, dark figures in the night, judging his presence from on high.

“This is the Ministry of Bone,” the old woman said. “A place of life and death, violence and creation, blood and magic.” Then she laughed. “And should you succeed in your ambitions, it’ll be a second home to you.”

“Maestros come here?” Jun frowned in spite of himself. It didn’t seem like a nice place. Nor the kind of building that heroes would frequent. It smelled of sewage and… old meat.

“See for yourself,” she said. She handed him the box. “Now, you fulfill your end of the bargain.”

He took the box gingerly. It rattled again. “What do you want me to do?”

“Take it to the good Doctor,” she said. “As you already know, I’m incapable of walking in and doing it myself.”

“And then what?”

She shrugged. “You wanted to get to Massina. You’re here. What comes next… is up to you.”

Jun struggled to push down his unease and fear, as he slipped down off the wagon seat. The woman raised the reins, and then she paused. Jun held the box to his chest. She looked down at him, with a pained annoyance.

“If you ever find yourself in a dire emergency, and I mean a DIRE emergency,” she said, through somewhat clenched teeth. “You may ask in the market bazaar for Zera. That is my name.”

Then she bowed. And with no more than that, she snapped the reins and the wagon creaked off down the streets, and into the night.

Jun swallowed hard, and gathered his courage to venture into the maze of the Ministry of Bone.

***

He was disturbed and shaken by the time he finally found the laboratory of Doctor Prometheus. He entered the dank underground chamber, which was dominated by glowing tubes of all sorts. Hoses ran across the stone floor, and spilled liquids pooled in sickly puddles.

“Doctor? Doctor Prometheus?” Jun’s small voice called out into the empty lab, echoing off the stone walls, in a mocking way.

A man emerged, clad in a dark leather overcoat. He wore a white mask, like a disfigured man. “What,” he said.

“I brought you, er,” Jun started and stuttered. “I mean, Zera and I brought you the box.” Jun held out the object. He was glad to be rid of it. The box had not stopped rattling since he entered the building, no matter how he tried to cushion it in his arms. It was like whatever was inside was unsettled, troubled, not yet at peace.

Prometheus approached the boy, who smelled the tang of chemicals, and spice, and decay. “Good,” he murmured. He began to walk away, and then stopped. He examined the box, and the chains that held it. “You helped her transport this?”

“Yes, Doctor,” said Jun, nervously. “We were attacked by a creature.”

The doctor frowned. Then he worked a small instrument into the lock, which sprung open. The chains fell to the ground with a clatter that made Jun jump. He heard the Doctor laugh softly inside his mask.

“Did you wonder what was inside?”

Jun held his breath. He wasn’t sure how to answer.

“Do you want to know?” Prometheus turned and slowly approached him.

Jun’s heart raced in his chest. His palms were drenched in sweat, clammy and cold. “Yes,” he said, in spite of himself.

Prometheus held the box toward him, and slowly opened it. The interior of the box was bare wood, no cushioning or pillow to contain its cargo. And inside, lay a human skull. A child, maybe. The skull settled slightly, rolling to one side. Jun held his breath, fearing the bones would come to life. Or set its eyes upon him somehow. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry.

From behind his mask, the Doctor gazed at the skull. “His name was Adrian. A boy, like yourself. He has been dead for thousands of years, but now he’s going to help me with something very important.”

And with that, the Doctor closed the box. He remained motionless, studying Jun. “Do you wish to know more? To understand what it is I intend to do?”

The boy began edging backwards out the door. “I should go,” he whispered.

The Doctor cocked his masked face at Jun. “Or perhaps… you would volunteer to become part of it yourself?”

The boy turned and fled into the Ministry. It was hours before he finally found his way out, and breathed the cool night air of Massina City. He wandered all night before finding a suitable place to hide and bed down, behind a large wooden sign that read The Sleeping Karkadon.

Interior of the Library of the Arcane

Part 1 - The Diamondstar Halo

Jun stood in the shadow of the Colosseum, as the morning sun rose over Massina City. The stone was cold against his back, but he didn’t move. His spot in front of the Porta Magna was crucial. This was the entrance that Champions and their Maestros used. A few of the especially passionate fans stood around, hoping for a glimpse of Golanus or Dhysthine, the so-called “Angel of Blood.”

At his side was a small wooden folding table, normally for cards and other gambling. Rolling around on its surface was a plump furry cramster named Blub. The cramster was stuffing its face with cheese, but Jun paid it no mind. His eyes were on an approaching Champion: a nervous-looking Vitra.

As she approached, he smiled and gestured at Blub. “Care to have a quick gamble this morning? How many blocks of cheese can this boy get in his mouth?”

(Blub the Cramster)

She shook her head, but Jun opened his palm. Her eyes darted down to his real offering: four zarkberries. She looked around anxiously, and drew close. The Vitra towered over Jun, and her armor outweighed him by several stone. “Thossse real sssarkberries?” she whispered.

“Yep.” Jun smiled. The Champions loved zarkberries. They improved reaction time, concentration, and energy. And, they were also illegal. At least within city limits.

“How did you procure them?” The Vitra scowled, eyeballing the suspect zarkberries.

“I have a source.” He smiled enigmatically. His contact met him every morning on the docks behind the House of Life. Jun held up the palmful of berries for her closer inspection. “Fresh as the sunrise. Make you really feel that anima.”

The Vitra sniffed them carefully. Then she smiled and slipped a coin into his palm, and her claws collected the zarkberries. “Thank you, human,” she whispered.

“Good hunting today,” he replied, as she began to walk off. “Oh, and watch that left hook with the trident. I notice you drop your shoulder when you attack. It’s an easy tell.”

The Vitra blinked at him in shock. “Yesss,” she agreed. “Yes, I will.” Then, still watching him, she ate the zarkberries and disappeared into the Porta Magna.

The morning picked up, with more Champions streaming in. Some stopped for zarkberries, others carried on. Some knew him, or stopped to feed Blub more cheese. Most of the Maestros complained at Jun. “You’re ripping us off,” they growled. It was true that Jun marked up his product, but smuggling zarkberries was expensive, and he didn’t make much. But it was worth it to be close to The Big Show every day at the Colosseum.

One of his favorite Champions sauntered up, a Seris named Krashkuz. The fighter hadn’t been lucky in years, barely winning often enough to pay his bills. But Jun admired his tenacity.

Blub the Cramster

Krashkuz and his Maestro Dawn stood with Jun and made small talk. “We’re a little short today, Jun,” she said with an apologetic wince. Dawn, a tiny woman, stood under the Seris’ massive stony elbow.

“You’re a little short every day, Dawn,” Jun joked. But they barely laughed. Usually the three of them had a good rapport. Things must be serious.

“Here,” said Jun. “Take em.”

Dawn thanked him, but Krashkuz stopped her. “Give him something.”

“No,” said Jun, “don’t worry about it. This is a gift.”

“Gift is steal. We make trade.” Krashkuz shook his mighty head. He had scars and scrapes over almost every inch of his frame. He thought for a second, and then announced: “You are Krashkuz guest today. Come inside, watch match for free. Trade.”

Krashkuz downed the berries and headed inside. Dawn motioned Jun along. He grabbed Blub and dropped him into the pouch with the zarkberries. Then, in a panic, he just as quickly yanked the cramster back out before it could eat his profits. Blub rode with him as they found their way through the Porta Magna, and up into the cheap seats.

The sun was still mild, and the stone bleachers were at a comfortable temperature. The early morning crowds were mostly hardcore fans or gamblers. Or wanna-be Maestros like Jun. He went to the Colosseum almost every opportunity, using the money he could have spent on rent or food to watch the greatest show he’d ever known. And today was no different.

The floor of the Colosseum had been completely flooded. The water glittered with blue dye, mimicking the strange azure tones of the Harbor of the Fallen a few miles south. Large boats cruised the surface, some filled with gladiators dressed as pirates, others were Keymasters and Gatekeepers. Jun’s heart leapt — this must be a re-enactment of the Battle of the Harbor. The Fallen 300!

He heard a woman’s voice nearby, hawking geckoid on a stick. “Get yer meat here!” Jun peered over the heads of the crowd and saw her, a young woman with dark curly hair pulled back into a tight bun. Yujin, a friend from the Market Bazaar. She spotted him too, and playfully started to have fun with her sales rap.

“Get a geckoid down your gullet. Spicy or mild. Original or flaming cheese. Geckoid on a stick. Guaranteed only 50% stick.”

A man hailed her, and she served him a stick, and winked at Jun. “Thank you, sir. Everyone’s a winner when the geckoid race ends in your stomach!”

Jun patted the seat next to him, and Yujin sat. “Quick break,” she smirked. “Although I’m not interested in your ugly ass. Where’s that adorable little cramster of yours?”

Jun fished him out of his jacket pocket. Yujin beamed. “Hello, Blub, you little cheese weasel.” The cramster lolled around as she scratched his furry stomach.

They watched as the games began. The emcee gave a long, baroque speech about the glory of The 300, how Massina was indebted to them eternally, and how the triumphs of the gladiators would reflect on the Emperor. The Imperial box seats shaded the Emperor from the sun and the prying eyes of the crowd, but Jun could see his knee as he sat on his throne.

The boats massed for a mock invasion of the Harbor, just as the pirates had tried so many years ago. Jun saw Krashkuz, dressed in an ill-fitting eye-patch, and the Vitra he’d met earlier that morning. The Keymasters and Gatekeepers, though hopelessly outnumbered, mounted a brave defense against the motley invaders. Jun critiqued the technique of one warrior in particular, until she was cut down by a Karkadon dressed as a pirate. “I’m not sure that’s historically accurate,” he said.

“Who cares,” Yujin shrugged. “This isn’t about them. This is all for his glory.” She tossed her chin toward the Emperor’s box, high above the crowds and the carnage on the water. Spots of red clouds swirled among the blue.

Jun kept his concentration on the battle. The Keymasters, unlike history, were losing the skirmish rather badly. A squadron of Sadaari warriors were unleashed as reinforcements. Jun wondered how old they were. Some Sadaari were ancient — having Ascended and become Eternals thousands of years previous.

The vessel known as the Mainstay capsized, dumping Krashkuz into the water. Jun saw him pop up and look around. Then, perhaps sensing the way the battle was going, he dove back under the ship to hide. Krashkuz was a survivor. He caught the eye of Dawn, who tossed her cheese-poppers into the air in exasperation.

Jun also spotted the Vitra, now fighting off a Keymaster, only to be brutally stabbed in the leg by a Gatekeeper. She limped away, and dove into the water to escape, but the Gatekeeper finished her off with a crossbow. Her body bobbed on the surface among the rest of the jetsam. Jun grimaced. These things happened; he had learned not to form attachments.

A group of young Karkadons leapt from their boat to the Keymasters’ vessel. Jun commentated for Yujin, who didn’t appear to be paying much attention: “That group are all new Challengers. Rushing the boat isn’t the smartest strategy, but they’re young, and they’ve got a lot to prove.”

The Karkadons were quickly dispatched by one deadly Sadaari warrior. Jun didn’t recognize her, but he had to admire her skill, whoever she was. There were so many Champions, and he was still learning all their names.

“It’s not sad that they die,” Yujin sighed, as she munched on one of her geckoid sticks. “It’s just sad that they die for so little.”

A handsome young man in Imperial senate robes sat above them to the left, occasionally glancing their way. “Look at this heart-throb,” drawled Yujin. Jun craned his neck around. “No, don’t look AT him,” Yujin groaned.

“Who is he?”

“Dunno,” she shrugged. “He’s cute. He comes here a lot, but he just like… stares at me.” She smirked. “What a goof, right? Watch this.”

She turned around and waved at him. The man went red in instant embarrassment, spilling his cheese-poppers.

Yujin laughed. But the wrappings on her wrist had come free, and Jun noticed the tattoo that marked her as a rebel. “Yujin,” he warned quietly. She quickly covered it and stood.

“Well. These little bastards won’t sell themselves.” Yujin smiled, and then started climbing the bleachers again, shouting: “Get your geckoid on a stick.”

Now, a resounding roar rose up from the crowd, as Krashkuz emerged from the water, and clambered aboard the Golden Bough. He climbed the rigging and pumped his arms in triumph, egging on the audience. The Maestros clamored, both in support and scorn. Krashkuz paused to soak it up, hanging off the ropes with his hand to his ear.

Then he jumped down, and rallied the remaining pirates to his side, forming a defensive huddle. The 300 charged, and the resulting melee was chaos. The veteran Seris swung a large club, huge horizontal sweeps of power that knocked Gatekeepers away like rag dolls. His body was soon pitted and ribboned with blood and open wounds.

Finally, Krashkuz was surrounded. But there was no grace to his fight anymore — he was simply trying to survive. The Sadaari warrior expertly disarmed him, and he lay panting on the deck of the boat. The crowd cheered for his death. Jun felt dismayed. The old Seris had done well, all things considered. He deserved to be spared, but he was a Champion that the crowd, as a rule, loved to hate.

The Emperor’s thumb emerged from the shadow of his box seat. The crowd quieted to a murmur. The thumb hovered. The Sadaari gazed up, her sword at the ready. Then, with a cruel flick, the thumb jabbed downward. Death.

The Sadaari turned to Krashkuz. He shook his head. She paused for a moment, then sheathed her sword, and flew off on her Eternal wings, disappearing into the Magna Porta to a cascading chorus of boos and cat-calls from the crowd. A Keymaster immediately stepped up to take her place, and finished off the old Seris. The crowd erupted in applause. Dawn slumped over in despair. Jun sought Yujin’s eye, but she was busy staring into the darkness of the hallway where the Sadaari had disappeared.

The match was declared over, and the proceedings took a break. As the crowd stretched and milled around, Jun reluctantly made his way down the stairs. Sitting and watching the rest of the games all day wasn’t likely to make him any money; or further his dreams of being a Maestro. To buy a Champion’s contract, he needed coin– and a lot of it.

As he emerged onto the street, the tall young man dressed in the robes of the Imperial Senate grabbed his wrist. “That girl,” he said. “Do you know her?”

“What girl,” Jun tried to pull away, feigning ignorance. The man’s grip was strong, like an enforcer. Jun’s heart dropped. Had Yujin done something? Was the Palace cracking down on rebels again?

“The girl,” said the man, with more emphasis, as if that explained it all. “The one who sells the geckoids. The one with the dark hair like the heavenly locks of Gaia, and the eyes so black you feel you’re gazing into a moonless night sky.”

“Uh…” Jun looked up into the face of the young Imperial, whose eyes were fixed on the far-off clouds. “The girl who sells geckoid on a stick? That girl?”

“She’s amazing,” the man continued. “I come to the games every day. And I hate the games.”

Jun nodded silently. Better to let this play out.

“But I don’t know what to say to her. No idea at all,” the man sighed heavily. “Plus there’s this–” He plucked at his dark red robes. “I get the feeling she’s not a fan of the establishment.”

The man let go of Jun, and reset himself. He held out his hand and bowed. “Apologies. My name is Roland. I am Senatorial secretary to the Honorable Pmuj Walavita.”

Jun smiled. “I’m Jun. Nice to meet you, Roland. Imperial, eh?”

“Yes, well. I mean, I work there,” Roland stammered. He was trying hard to keep a calm facade. Jun wondered if he might be induced to talk a little more about the Senate. Knowing an insider might be helpful to himself and Yujin.

“Come to the Market Bazaar at noon,” said Jun, with another smile, albeit a crooked one. “Maybe I can introduce you to my friend.”

“Yes,” Roland’s mouth gaped in amazement, as though he’d seen Gaia herself rise from the waters of the River Hushed. “Yes, yes, I will. The Barket Mazaar– Market. I mean.”

Jun gave him a friendly nod. “Her name is Yujin.”

Again, Roland staggered backwards, as if hit by an iron trident. “Yujin,” he whispered. Then he regained his composure. “Of course! Thank you! Thank you.”

Jun chuckled as he and Blub set off for the Market Bazaar to sell the rest of his zarkberries, and imagined the fun when Yujin had to avoid her awkward new suitor.

***

Yujin sold her last geckoid to an off-duty Grondal enforcer and made her way into the bowels of the Colosseum Eternal. The passages were dim, and she skirted past other vendors and busy tradesmen, all making their coin off the gathered crowds above them. Silt and dirt drifted down as thousands of feet pounded the bleachers in anticipation of the next match. Yujin could hear the muffled roar, like the towering waves off the coast of Dredegga. She ducked into an alcove, and pressed a particular brick. A hidden door swung open and she slipped inside.

She felt her way along the cold stone tunnel in utter darkness. There was no light, but she knew where she was going. She emerged in the hallway of the gladiator barracks. Yujin tread lightly, peering into the different cells as she passed. Finally, she saw the Sadaari, who was taking off her armor. She hesitated.

“Speak,” said the Sadaari.

“I saw what you did in the arena. You defied him,” Yujin said, with a tremor in her voice. She tried to calm herself.

“And of what concern is that to you?” The Sadaari turned and looked her over. “You don’t look like an Imperial to me.”

“No,” said Yujin. “My name is Yujin. I represent those who want freedom. Those who reject his oppression. Those who feel as you do.”

The Sadaari smirked, her ghoul-like features betraying what had once been a living face. “You know how I feel?”

“Your actions tell me enough.” Yujin said, summoning her courage. She pulled back her wrappings to show the tattoo. She had received it in prison, as a brand, for the authorities to identify. But like many rebels, she now wore it as a point of pride. “You value respect and honor above blind loyalty.”

The Sadaari shook her head. “I’m not interested in rebellions. Or Emperors. Be on your way.”

Yujin drew a little closer. She could see the Sadaari’s weapons were ancient, perhaps thousands of years old, but razor sharp. “Our leader has a proposal for you. One that might change your mind… Ilona.”

Ilona’s eyes blazed. “Who are you?”

Yujin backed away. “I’m just someone who wants justice and peace.” She backed toward the door. “Come find me in the Marketplace. I’ll take you to him.”

“What proposal,” said Ilona, her eyes narrowing. “Be forthcoming, girl, or I’ll show you the death-blow I spared Krashkuz.”

“I beg your forgiveness. It must come from him. If I tell you, you won’t believe me.” Yujin’s eyes were pleading.

Ilona scoffed, and then waved her off. “Get out.”

***

The Market Bazaar wound around the base of the Colosseum, like a viper coiling around its prey. Most of its business came from the spectators who had to wander past the stalls to reach their destination. More than a few became hopelessly lost and guiding fans out of the Market’s labyrinth was a lucrative opportunity for the urchins and other “entrepreneurs.”

Jun crouched in his shack, hidden behind a bakery stall, and watched as tall Roland walked into the clearing, and turned about in confusion. The boy waited just a moment, to further enjoy the red-robed secretary attempting to dodge the pit-boys and coin-runners on their hurried way. Then Jun stepped out and hailed Roland.

They talked for a bit, and played with Blub, before Yujin showed up. She often looked tired after a morning’s work, but today she looked a little shaken.

“Where you been?” Jun asked.

“Nowhere,” she said. “Who’s this great doofus? Did someone lose a willow tree?” She gestured at Roland.

“I am Roland,” he bowed. “I am honored to meet you.” He stood, and then looked unsure. “M’lady?”

Yujin burst out laughing. “M’lady!” She doubled over, and Roland cringed at himself. “I like that.”

“Roland is a secretarial senator,” Jun said.

“Secretary to a Senator,” Roland corrected. “I came to make your acquaintance.” Roland took Yujin’s hand gently, and touched it to his forehead in a deep bow.

“Oh he lays it on thick, don’t he?” She rolled her eyes– but Jun noted she didn’t pull her hand away. “My man must really love geckoids,”

“Not for geckoids,” Roland said in a panic. “I wanted to meet YOU. I’m… I wanted to say I’ve been very– I admire your–”

“My what,” she crossed her arms.

“Your face. And dark hair. And eyes.” He smacked his forehead in frustration. “Gods, I said this much better in my head on the way here.”

“Yes, you were a proper poet earlier,” Jun laughed.

“I’m sorry.” Roland’s shoulders slumped. “I should probably go. You two have a good day.”

“Hold on, hold on, Senate boy,” Yujin said. “How about we forget the flowery compliments and let’s just talk like normal people? Maybe about current events? Politics?”

“Yes,” said Roland, nodding. “I know a thing or two about that.”

“Great,” she smacked his arm. “Care for some tea?”

They sat on the ramshackle chairs outside Madam Twiddle’s Tea Shack and Roland told them about his job in the Imperial Senate. The Emperor ruled with an iron fist, but he needed the support and cooperation of the Senators to enact his decrees. The current debate was over rising Rebel activities, and the Emperor’s ban on House imbuements.

“He believes the Houses secretly fund the Rebels,” said Roland, sipping his tea. It was an acrid blend. Nobody knew what Madam Twiddle added to it. No one dared ask. Madam Twiddle was a Seris, and a real battle-axe.

“Any house in particular?” asked Yujin innocently. Her eyes met Jun’s quickly.

“The big three, mainly,” said Roland.

“Banning imbuement chokes the lifeblood of the Houses. No new Champions can receive Essence, and it prices everyone else out of the market.” Jun moaned.

“The Maestros complain bitterly,” agreed Roland. “I receive two or three angry scrolls every day.”

“Perhaps you should change your line of work to something less… morally abhorrent,” Yujin said with a sarcastic smile.

Jun downed his tea angrily. “I’ll never become a Maestro at this rate.”

“Ah, but,” Roland beckoned them to lean close. “Since we are now friends, there is something I can tell you.” Roland glanced around. “The Library of the Arcane is preparing to defy this ban.”

“Of course they are,” Jun said. The Library of the Arcane were by far the most arrogant House, believing themselves to be above the mundane concerns of Massina.

“Today,” Roland underscored. “Today. There is to be a draft of Champions imbued before the ban. Or so they claim.”

Yujin looked skeptical, but Roland smiled, pleased with himself and his insider knowledge. Jun darted into his shack. He emerged with his arms full of leather bags of coin. “Yujin, how much do you want for my shack?”

“What? I can’t buy your shack.” Yujin jumped up, spilling her tea all over Roland’s red robes.

“I need coin; lots of coin. Every farthing helps,” Jun panted. “How much?”

“I’ll… I can give you twenty for it, I guess?” She seemed confused and helpless. “I can’t go higher. I’ll have to cover my costs for geckos tonight in order to have fresh-grilled supply for tomorrow. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he held out his hand. She dropped the coins in it.

“I mean it, Jun. I’ll have to sell your shack to someone else like– today. You’ll have nowhere to stay.” Yujin looked sad.

Jun was exploding with excitement. He held Blub tightly, and began to backpedal and race out of the clearing. “Don’t worry! It’ll all work out! I promise!”

He took off running through the maze of the market, and didn’t even notice when he nearly ran into the colossal knee of Golanus the Eternal.

***

Jun ran west toward the Library, bypassing the outskirts of the so-called District of Death, where a growing ring of adjacent buildings was slowly succumbing to the mold and fester from the House of Death. The spires of the Library grew taller and taller, and Jun saw the plaza outside was filled with hopefuls like himself.

They formed a long line, snaking back and forth over the sun-baked tiles. Jun leapt into position, and others soon lined up behind him. He’d sat outside the Library many times before, studying the Champions as they walked out of its tall doors. The Library was an ornate structure, towers upon towers, turrets and garrets intersecting in an impossible architecture, and painted with strange runes and protective alchemical symbols.

Jun scanned the crowd for faces that he knew. A few well-known Maestros with proven track records, like Rogelio Roha, and Myvonigan; up and comers with enthusiasm and lots of coin to spend, like Kaye and Zestiria.

Myvonigan seemed unconcerned with the line. He walked up and down, talking to the Maestros as he went. When he happened on Jun, he stopped and stared in silent critique. Jun became acutely aware of his hard-scrabble appearance. Torn tunic, old sumpter-hair sweater, clutching Blub to his chest. Myvonigan scoffed: “You going to trade them for a cramster?” Jun bit his tongue, and Myvonigan moved on.

A few scurrilous con-men approached the crowd in faux purple robes, claiming to be representatives of the Library of the Arcane. They offered “certificates of ownership” for the Champions inside, as an early offering to select Maestros. They were soon chased off by the fearsome House guard Knitl, who warned the crowd about frauds trying to take advantage.

As the sun set over the Gate of Fools, the tall doors creaked open, and a cadre of priests processed out. They all wore the ornate birreta hats of the Library, and the golden eyeglasses denoting their status as magical scholars. Finally, the High Priest walked out in his glorious violet robes, and unfurled a scroll. He conjured a rune in mid-air, and swallowed it. When he spoke, his voice boomed across the plaza.

“Greetings, mighty Maestros and hopeful heroes. The Library of the Arcane celebrates your solicitude. We are proud to offer a limited draft of Champions tonight. All imbued previous to the Emperor’s unfair ban…”

Here he stopped and looked over his eyeglasses for effect, as he gazed slowly around the crowd, who laughed nervously.

“Previous to the Emperor’s unfair ban– which qualifies them for your consideration. Each Champion has served their time here; studying and growing in power and value. And each has indicated his or her readiness to enter into a fruitful contract with you. May You Find Eternal Glory in the Circle of Death. Congratulations, and may the draft begin.”

The Maestros began to shuffle in excitement and anticipation. Jun knew that, inside the house, the Champions would begin to feel the soul energy of the gathered humans outside: their anima as it was called. Champions needed imbuement of an Essence to gift them with a Titan element. This gave them mystical power. But a Champion who possessed Essence without anima was at risk of being pulled toward the dimension of the netherworld.

A bond of anima, which only a human could provide, gave them strength and hope, kept them tethered to reality, and spiritually fulfilled. They needed anima, and fed off the energies of the crowds in the arena, but true bonds were formed with their Maestro. Jun could not wait to feel the bonding of his own anima with some worthy, brave Champion.

The draft proceeded quickly. Each Maestros called out his pick, as the line moved along toward the High Priest. Each Maestro’s name was read from the list, and assigned to a Champion, who was brought out with great ceremony. The magical Essence of the Arcane hummed in the air all around them; and as each pair met and negotiated their partnership, a cheer went up.

Jun counted his coins and worried. Most drafts were followed by an “open slot”, reserved for someone either devoted or lucky. He knew he must bide his time and wait for an opportunity.

Voices rose in anger near the front of the line. Maestro Myvonigan railed against the priests. “Why won’t you sell to me? I’m a Maestro of long-standing reputation!”

“Indeed,” sneered the High Priest. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“Yet you would turn me away? I require an Arcane fighter to round out my stable! My Champions have brought great honor to every House they represent.”

“It is not your Champions, but you who bring dishonor.”

Myvonigan coughed in disbelief. “I am close and personal friends with Emperor Giotto himself!”

“Your close and personal friend shows no friendship to us.” The High Priest scowled. “Begone, Myvonigan. There is no sale to you this day. Not so long as you lick his boots.”

The crowd of Maestros winced. They didn’t much like Myvonigan anyway. He tended to farm out his Maestro duties to other men, and never cared to mingle at the usual watering holes. Humiliated, Myvonigan turned away and stalked off to watch the rest of the draft from afar.

The sunset turned into evening, and the lights in the towers and turrets of the Library began to glow, as scholars and magicians toiled away in deep thought over dense tomes. The last of the list was read, and another wave of anticipation washed over the hopefuls. Kaye gave Jun a thumbs-up, and Zestitira looked confident and unworried. The High Priest stepped forward again.

“Scholars and Maestros, gathered hopefuls, now we offer our last champion. In the spirit of charity and benevolence, and to honor the god of Luck and Chance, we will once again cast The Diamondstar Halo to choose a worthy soul from among this esteemed group. Whoever the Halo chooses will be afforded the chance at our last available Champion. We hope that afterwards the rest of you will join us inside for a reception and enjoy the Library’s finest hospitality. Another day will come and more Champions will be readied.” He smiled lightly. “As it has been and always will be.”

Then the High Priest bowed deeply to the crowd, who bowed in return. “And now!” he shouted. “The Diamondstar Halo!”

He waved his hand in a large arc, and summoned a ring of bright blue, illuminated words of arcana spinning in a circle and topped with sparkling white diamonds. “Go forth,” he commanded it. “And find the most worthy!” He clapped his aged hands, and the Halo winked out.

All the hopefuls glanced around, wondering where it would next appear. Jun glanced over at Kaye, and Zestiria, Capo and the notorious Dewlithius. He looked back at Myvonigan, hoping the embittered old Maestro wouldn’t somehow get the Halo. But it did not appear. Where was it?

One by one, the faces in the crowd turned to gaze at him. Jun turned– was it someone behind him? Who? But the faces there also stared in amazement. Finally, he turned his chin upwards, and above him, he saw it. The glowing halo, circling his head slowly.

The air crackled. Blub chirped in excitement. Jun felt his knees go a little weak, and then he pulled himself together, and raised his hands to catch the Halo. The mystical diamonds twinkled and stuck to his hands, as he pulled it to his chest, and felt it flare and then melt into him.

The High Priest grinned. “We have our worthy winner!”

The next few moments were a blur, as the crowd clapped and pushed him forward toward the priests. The Librarians rolled out the contract scroll along their long desk, and Jun choked as he saw the coin that this last Champion commanded. For an Eternal — the price was cheap enough, but for him, still a fortune. He emptied out his bags, and pockets, as the accounting-priest tallied the sum.

The priest frowned. “Not quite enough here. You’re short.”

“It’s all I’ve got. Please,” begged Jun.

“We’ll be forced to give your slot to someone else,” the priest said apologetically. “Unless you have something else to offer.”

Jun looked down into his satchel. There, gazing up at him, was Blub. A trained cramster could fetch up to a hundred coins in the right circles. Jun imagined walking away, empty-handed, after all these years of trying and failing. Here was the opportunity he had been praying for.

He gently lifted Blub out of the satchel. “He’s high-quality,” he said softly. “A good boy. A winner every time.”

The accounting-priest peered at the cramster. “I had one when I was young. Fancied myself a trainer.” He took hold of Blub and gently examined him. The priest scratched his stomach, and Blub burbled contentedly. “We can offer you a one hundred coin credit.”

Jun nodded, and swallowed hard. “He never let me down.”

The accounting-priest signed the document and signalled the deal had been struck. Then he took Blub with him, into the Library. Jun watched them go, and barely noticed that the final Champion was being led out into the plaza to meet him.

At first Jun heard laughter. He thought Blub might have done something humorous– the cramster was a natural comedian. But then he looked around and realized the laughter was directed at the Champion. Jun’s breath stopped as he took in the sight.

The most raggedy ancient Fenrir he had ever seen stood before him. Patches of gray fur and skin intermingled. The creature’s right eye was missing, and the socket was covered with a simple leather strap. Its arms and legs were skinny and apathetic. The Fenrir looked at Jun, out of its one good eye. It lowered its head in shame. The Fenrir were a proud race, and this one knew he had no claim to their glory. The only sign of life in him was the purple Arcane Essence which swirled violently in his chest.

“I am Fidelis,” he said, to the ground. “I accept your contract.” He did not look at Jun.

Jun found himself at a loss. He had expected a strong young Challenger. This one, though Eternal, was clearly damaged goods. He glanced at the High Priest, who met his gaze, and anticipated his thoughts.

“It is said that the most dangerous spark may spring from cold ashes,” said the Priest.

Jun swallowed his disappointment, and rallied himself. This was his Champion. He had won it, against all odds. The Halo had chosen him. He cleared his throat and said the traditional words of the partnership contract: “I am proud to accept this Champion, and enter freely into our partnership.”

The Fenrir still did not look up. “I am proud to accept this Maestro and enter freely into our partnership,” he murmured.

The other Maestros all burst out laughing. Myvonigan sat leering at them.

The High Priest drew his hand across his chest. “Then May You Find Eternal Glory in the Circle of Death.”

Jun and Fidelis then began the long walk down the stairs to the plaza, and out into the street. Fidelis barely looked around, though his nose was taking in the odors of the crowd. Jun held his head high, despite the snickers of those in the crowd.

As they left the plaza, he turned and gathered his courage. He grabbed Fidelis’ wrist and raised their arms high. “I’ll see you all in the Colosseum,” cried Jun. “For today I am a Maestro, and tomorrow– your Champions may be speared on his sword!”