Chapter Thirteen

Flare was facing a terrible dilemma. On one hand, she had an intense desire to hum a jaunty tune just so she could let the world know just how awesome it was to be alive. On the other hand, humming a jaunty tune while stalking someone wasn’t just bad form, it was straight up stupid.
In the end, Flare managed to keep quiet and comforted herself with a promise to take time from her busy schedule to find out what day it actually was. She’d never been much for superstitions, but if she was getting this lucky in the space of a single day, maybe there was something to it.
But really, her luck that day had been running altogether too well that day. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have said the whole thing was a set-up. Sometimes it paid to be a nobody.
Tracking Seth’s agitated friend (though Flare wasn’t sure she could use the word agitated anymore, the girl looked completely spent) hadn’t been at all difficult once Flare had caught sight of her exiting the maze of side alleys right next to the point she’d been staking out. The short girl didn’t seem to care one whit about her surroundings, though that was probably her apparent fatigue at work there, and she kept on walking single-mindedly until she reached…
‘Her home!’ Flare thought excitedly, watching as Kyari was accosted at the door by a man Flare immediately pegged as her father, despite looking nothing like her. ‘Maybe she was adopted…’ The information dealer mused as Kyari disappeared into the small house.
“Oh well, I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough,” Flare shrugged, turning around to leave. She had what she came for, and while she was all for getting a head start on her mental dossier of Seth’s enigmatic companion, she highly doubted she’d learn much when her target was about as lively as the average corpse.
* * *
The years of being on the street alerted Kyari to someone behind her. Unfortunately, she didn't have eyes in the back of her head, so she ignored it, confidant that if it really was a problem, she'd be prepared to deal with it.
Her first thought was to go home and rest.
Can't do that. There's someone behind.
The second thought was to keep wandering.
Can't do that. Remember what happened last time?
Which reminded her. What about Hector? That'd be somewhere safe, and it wouldn't give anything away.
She knocked tiredly on the door, slumping against the door frame.
“What he do to you?” Hector demanded.
“Nothing. Not really.”
“Alma, get a bed made up, will you? This one looks about to fall over.”
“I'm not going to,” Kyari protested as she followed him up the stairs.
“Doesn't matter. You'll get some rest, and then you'll tell us what's wrong. This is Alma,” he added as they walked in the room.
“You're right. She does look rather worn. If you need anything, just let either of us know.” Kyari nodded as they left the room. What happened to not trusting anyone? It got Jalen killed. It could get Seth killed. It could get Hector and Alma killed. She slipped her shoes off, curling up on the bed, letting herself cry. She was always trying to keep her attitude stoic, but here, alone, what did that matter?
Convincing Hector that Seth had done no harm was going to be difficult. She would have to�"
She woke up a couple hours later, unsure exactly when her train of thought had stopped. Time to go give some explanations.
* * *
It was the first decent meal she'd had in two days. Not much you can make for yourself when you're injured, and this morning she had been too distressed to eat. They ate in silence until finally, she was ready.
How far did she need to go back? To Jalen's death? To Seth leaving her? The first would be necessary to understand the second...So she told them. Multiple times, Hector looked about to say something, but Alma put a hand on his arm.
When she finished, he didn't know what to say for a moment. Hector’s first instinct was to get up, grab his hammer, and go on the warpath. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on the point of view), Alma softly touched his arm and gave him a look that told him, in no uncertain terms, that there was she ever going to let him head out on another crusade. She wasn’t going to live through another; she’d sworn that to herself when Hector had returned red handed and weeping all those years ago.
“This,” Alma started, reaching from Hector to grab Kyari’s hands, “will always be a safe haven for you, should you need it. Isn’t that right, dear?” She asked, perhaps a tad sharply, leveling a hard stare at her husband, who’d moved towards the front door in the short interim.
“… Yes.” He said eventually, gripping the door frame. “Always.”
He didn’t say another word, and silence reigned in the house until Alma softly asked, “Please, just leave it at the door, will you?”
Hector nodded mutely, before cracking the door open and slipping outside in a burst of city noise.
There was a story here. Something had happened to Hector and Alma... Kyari hesitated before asking.
"That's... an old story," Alma replied, shooting a small glance the small shrine that had been erected in their small living area. "Some old things belong in the past." "Enough of this old woman's reminiscing, is there anything we can do for you in the here and now?"
Why wouldn't anyone tell her anything! Really, it was starting to border on ridiculous.
She paused, considering the question. Did she need anything? Not money. Not anything material. She didn't really need shelter. "Protection. I need somewhere safe to stay when my home isn't."
Alma hesitated before replying, "... Within reason. Please understand, Hector and I are very simple people. We run a smithy; we may make weapons and armour, but we don't know how to use them." The woman sighed and continued, "If ever there is someone who won't leave you alone and you need to disappear for a few days, our door is always open, but... we have a son, and we can't put him in danger when we could have avoided it."
Kyari nodded. "I don't expect I'll need it often, but it helps to know there's someplace available..."
"Good," Alma gave Kyari's hands a firm shake before releasing them. "Now, I'm afraid the day isn't getting any younger, and there are things I need to finish before it's over. You are more than welcome to stay as long as you would like, and if you need to talk to me I'll be nearby." The housewife gave Kyari a small nod and a warm smile before turning around and returning to the inner confines of the house.
She stayed where she was, contemplating her options. This was going to be an interesting next couple of weeks...
* * *
The chance to earn some money was not one Wynn normally turned down--especially when it was something easy to do. That's why he stuck to betting off the tournament arena. More likely to get something decent. And if you started noticing patterns...
He had heard something lately. Some guy was asking for more information about the girl Kyari. And he was willing to pay. Which was to be expected if he was actually going to get something.
It wouldn't be that hard to find something about her. He just needed to look her up in the arena's library to start, and then he could begin tracking her down.
* * *
It’s a little past midday when Flare realizes she has a problem. She’s bored. With both Seth and his strange friend seemingly out for the count, and her array of non-suicidal past-times virtually non-existent, she has nothing to do.
 The information broker halts her step, does an about face and makes a beeline for the Coliseum. After all, fighting at the Coliseum was merely dangerous; boredom, on the other hand, bordered on being deadly. In any case, she could take a peek at Seth’s fighting record while she was there (if he had one, that is). Perhaps she’d find the name of his mysterious companion while she was at it.
* * *
He grumbled under his breath when he saw a blue-haired girl perusing the shelves. "Better not take my book," he muttered, heading straight for the Ks in an attempt to intercept her.
* * *
Flare stretched out as she strolled into the Coliseum archive, earning herself a litany of cracks and the unnerving feeling that she'd just put something in her back out. It was the little things in life.
"Speaking of little things..." Flare muttered under her breath as a man brushed roughly past her. "Sheesh, what's his problem?"
The young woman surreptitiously brushed her shoulder and continued on to the 'S' section. Apparently common courtesy was running at a premium these days...
Wynn shot a glare at the girl as he pulled Kyari's book off the shelf, taking a seat nearby.
"Listen," Flare ground out, finally locating the correct book and flipping through it, "I thought it was a stray, all right? It was just an odd job for the Xiang Rou restaurant, it wasn't anything personal!"
Seth's profile was... well it was small. In fact, it looked like he'd logged in more hours in the infirmary than he'd done in the ring. Still, the brunet's lackluster track record aside, Flare still managed to hit paydirt in the form of the name of the opponent most of Seth's fights had taken place with: Kyari. 'Well, it isn't anything concrete, but at least it's a lead...' Flare thought, replacing the book.
Wynn ignored her strange comment, paging through the details. No parents were mentioned, which seemed strange considering Marcin's leads. But the way she fought--her weapons and such--seemed oddly familiar...
Tracing back along the lines of records, Flare ghosted her fingers along book spines until...'There's one missing, and if my luck has anything to say on the matter...' She checked the records on both sides, and sure enough, neither of them contained any information regarding Kyari. 'Which means...'
Flare turned around and shot an irritated glare at the archives only other occupant. "No way, no how. I am not talking to that ornery jerk." She muttered to herself before stalking out of the archive and into the coliseum lobby. Maybe a couple fights would calm her down.
Finally satisfied with the girl's absence, he settled further into his chair, flipping slower through the book. The details began standing out. Emory daggers. Black hair. Silver eyes. Sounded like someone from Valend. Hadn't Kaden (he paused in his thoughts to try to brush the disgust off of them) married someone from there? Hadn't she died shortly after--childbirth, or something? As far as he knew, he was the only one who knew that savory detail of Kaden's life...so much good that had turned out to be so far.
He pulled himself up, brushing his sandy hair out of his face, and returning Kyari's book to the shelf. It'd be good enough. For now.
* * *
Violence is a lucrative business. There are always gains to be made where blood is shed, and no establishment knew this better than the Coliseum save perhaps some few bars that sat on war torn borders. What these bars knew far better than the Coliseum possibly ever would is that these gains had to come from somewhere.
While Nature may have little love for morality or mortal justice, its dedication to balance is unparalleled.
Hector sighed heavily as he leaned against the entryway to the Coliseum. He hated coming here. Cemeteries had always made him uneasy, and this building was nothing more than a colossal, sparkling tombstone, sitting upon a mass grave. Actual interment was something of a moot point.
Sometimes he wondered whether he should be ashamed that he was one of the thousands of tiny furnaces that kept this factory of bloodshed running.
He also wondered whether it was possible to feed his family on self-righteousness.
Threading his way past throngs of people with less life expectancy than the average moth in a candle shop, Hector made his way towards the Coliseum archives, almost colliding with a young woman on the way in. The girl, probably barely out of her teens, flinched and muttered a small "My fault, excuse me." before scurrying into the crush of gladiators. Hector shook his head and slipped into the archive. Maybe she would just be another casualty of the city, maybe she wouldn't. He needed to start let go of things that were past, which raised the question: What did he think he was doing here?
The man in front of him as he turned around was quite imposing, but that didn't stop Wynn from muttering an accusatory "What're you doing here?"
Hector frowned. Even among the self-preservationally challenged, there were people who should, by all rights, already be dead. Apparently the beach-headed man in front of him was a member of that perpetually shrinking demographic.
"Good question," Hector muttered, surveying the rows upon rows of fights gone by. "That's a very, very good question.
"Maybe I'm hoping I'll come here some day to see that this whole place had collapsed," the blacksmith shrugged before turning around and exiting the archive. He'd come back later. When it was empty.
* * *
Kyari was, at that point, debating whether or not to leave the blacksmith's residence. She had stayed there nearly all day, just grateful for some place to rest. Now she wondered if it'd be better to stay the night. Alma had offered, and Kyari was considering it. At this point, she wasn't entirely sure she could handle the potential paranoia. On the other hand, she would prefer not to intrude on the hospitality any farther.
After a half hour of internal deliberation, she opted for the latter, giving a grateful farewell and headed out into the streets.
Alma watched silently as Kyari left the house on the brink of evening. If she were honest with herself, she'd have admitted to hoping for the young girl to stay the night, to not feeling comfortable watching her go.
Alma didn't much like the night anymore.
"Though I doubt asking her to stay would have done much good," the aging mother huffed as she closed the door and walked back into her home, patting the small shrine on her way by. "It certainly never worked with you..."
 * * *
When she set off that night, it was slightly darker than she wanted it to be. Her eyes flickered all around her while the hair on her neck looked for any unusual sensation.
She would imagine later that she saw them coming. That she knew they would take a second chance.
She didn't.
* * *
Hector trudged homewards, slipping into a shortcut to avoid the evening rush. His spirits were always low this day of the year, but recent events weighed heavily on his mind to the point where walking was a chore and he wondered whether the air had always felt so... thick.
The blacksmith blinked slowly as he tiredly lifted his eyes up off the road and scanned the path ahead for human obstacles he didn't want to accidentally run into.
'Hmmm, I wonder if there was a mistake somewhere along the line and it's actually think of the devil...' he mused to himself as he saw what looked like the silhouette of the young girl who'd appeared at his doorstep earlier approaching him.
"You sure you won't stay the night?" he called towards her.
It was about that time he took a cudgel to the back of his head. In his defense, he'd had a long day and trying to keep a wary eye out for ambushes wasn't usually a priority. The man bounced off the ground roughly before being hauled back to his feet with a knife tickling the bottom of his chin.
"Now," a voice growled in his ear, "come with us or the old man dies."
Kyari panicked, knowing this was exactly what she had intended to avoid. She nodded quickly in an attempt to avoid Jalen's fate.
"Put your hands in the air where we can see them, and if you make a single wrong move, I swear, I will give this man a giant red smile right across his throat." The man (and it was definitely a man) holding Hector demanded, shifting himself so that his captive jutted out into the evening light streaming into the alley while he himself stayed in the shadows.
Her hands creeped unsteadily into the air, afraid for herself and Hector. "Search her for any weapons, and for Kansyle’s sake don’t forget to bind her fingers,” he ordered.
A shadowy section of wall next to the original ambusher fidgeted. “Listen Eric,” the shadow spoke wearily, “I’m not really sure we should be doing this. This whole job stinks to high heaven and I’m starting to feel like a choice piece of bait right about now…”
“Then you should have brought it up earlier,” the man, Eric, retorted, adjusting the knife against Hector’s neck, “and if you even think of backing out now, so help me I will gut you. We aren’t abandoning her, end of discussion.”
“Right,” the shadow grunted, detaching from the wall and resolving itself into a young man with blond hair streaked with strands of grey. “Just this once and never again." He walked warily towards Kyari before pausing. “Don’t you ever insinuate that I’d leave her,” He breathed shakily. “Don’t.”
He was answered by a meaty crunch. Behind him, Hector stood with his smithy hammer raised high as the man who’d, until recently, kept him captive clutched at his shattered right shoulder.
“If you’re going to knock someone out, at least have the courtesy to do it right,” the blacksmith said coldly, before being interrupted by the other kidnapper.
“Eric! Get away from my brother!” The young man roared, forgetting Kyari entirely and launching himself at Hector.
The first instinct she had when the man stepped towards her was to step back in response, but she fought it, staying right where she was. As soon as he turned around towards Hector, she dropped the frightened animal demeanor and whipped a dagger towards his right shoulder.
* * *
Gravity, Sam reflected, is a wonderful thing. Reasons for gravity being a wonderful thing: a) Not having a thrown dagger puncture your lungs, b) Not having a thrown dagger puncture your heart, c) Having a thrown dagger miss you entirely because you were busy tackling some old man who had just pulped your brother's shoulder with a hammer. Yessir, Sam was very happy that gravity was indeed a thing that existed, because without it, he'd probably be very busy bleeding out on the ground next to what was left of his small family.
Other things Sam was grateful for were the dagger he'd just stabbed into the old b*****d's shoulder, and the other dagger to the man's neck. Apparently silver linings had something of an affinity for really, really terrible situations.
"Looks like we're back at square one," Sam breathed heavily, splitting his attention between the girl he and his brother were supposed to be kidnapping and the man he had at knife-point.
"Like hell we are," his brother groaned. "This has all gone pear shaped..."
"Hey, you were the one that wanted to go through with this," Sam retorted. "Now grab the pills, they're in my left pocket, and let's get this over with."
"You know I hate using those," Eric grumbled, painfully levering himself up all the same. "They have got to be the shittiest-"
"Do you see any other option right now?" Sam growled. "Because I am this damn close to telling that snake to take his offer and shove it; we can find Sarah on our own."
Eric winced, but then got to his feet and used his remaining hand to retrieve a small paper package from his brother's left pocket, shooting a glare at the captive blacksmith as he did so. Hector's only response was to spit at the man whose shoulder he'd crushed. He shouldn't have bothered, the saliva barely cleared his lips.
"None of that," Sam hissed, jabbing the dagger embedded in Hector's shoulder still deeper. "You've already pushed tested our patience as it is."
Eric, in the meantime, had approached Kyari and, after one-handedly struggling the small paper packet open, had thrust a small set of pills towards her.
"Eat these," he ordered. "They're knock-out pills, not that you'd believe anything we say, but hey, you know how this works. Either you take 'em or you have three corpses on your hands."
"Three?"
"Well you're perfectly free to let us kill the old man and leave," Eric smiled tiredly.
She still didn't understand, unless they meant to add Alma to the group...Finally, she nodded, taking the small pills. She sat down first, not wanting to land on cobblestones again, glaring at Eric to not question her as she took them.
Crumpling to the ground wasn't as bad as she expected. Smart move, she congratulated herself.
Eric kept a wary eye on Kyari for three long minutes before nodding to himself in satisfaction. As one final precaution, the crippled man quickly knelt by the unconscious girl and pinched her viciously on the arm. No response came, though there was sure to be a nasty mark later. He watched her for a few moments more before turning to Sam and giving him a short nod.
"All right," Sam said, pushing Hector towards the mouth of the alley, "get lost. I don't know what your connection to her is, but if you try anything, she will die."
Hector hesitated, shooting a quick glance towards where he'd dropped his hammer after Sam had tackled him.
"I can reach her before you can reach me," Sam said evenly.
Biting back a hiss of frustration, the blacksmith took off at a dead sprint, leaving the two kidnappers and the girl he'd promised himself he would protect behind.
 * * *
Would she stay where she was and hopefully learn more--albeit risking her life--or should she fight back now?
The next few seconds were filled with tense deliberation as she weighed the options, finally staying in her place.
* * *
"You keep an eye on her," Eric told his brother, getting up gingerly. "Just keep her in the house until I can get Marcin over here."
 Sam nodded silently and stuck both knives in his belt. "You gonna be ok locating him like that?" He asked, approaching the downed body.
"Better than I can keep watch on her, that's for sure," Eric replied. "Just make sure you don't take your eyes of her, period."
"Whatever you say," Sam waved his brother off, picking up Kyari by the arms and dragging her towards a door hidden in the shadows they'd originally been occupying. "Just... get that shoulder checked. Like, as soon as possible, ok?"
"I'll tell you how the amputation goes," Eric hobbled away, shooting one last glance backwards as Sam melted into the shadowy overhang.
Pausing only momentarily to fish out a key and unlock the door, Sam dragged Kyari into a small, derelict looking warehouse, closing and locking the door behind him. Hauling the young girl a few feet away from the door, Sam propped her up against the warehouse wall and sat down beside her and placed a dagger against her throat.
The building was quiet for a few short minutes before a sniff cracked through the silence like a gunshot. "I wonder," Sam coughed on a watery laugh, "how things managed to go south so fast..."
Being dragged across cobblestones had not been the most pleasant experience, and it's quite hard to keep one's eyes shut while doing so, as Kyari quickly realized.
The metal across her throat was not a particularly ideal situation either.
With barely a thought, she had slipped her own dagger from her sleeve with the intention of placing it on Sam's neck.
"You underestimated him," she replied, going on the offense.
Sam blinked, then looked down at the dagger now held at his throat and down the arm that held it to its wielder. Then he began laughing uproariously.
"The, hahahaha, the shittiest excuses for knock-out pills we could ever find," the young man choked out. "Oh man, Eric will never let me hear the end of this." He tilted his head towards Kyari, giving her a very tired look. "Assuming I ever hear him again."
She held out her other hand. "I never took them," she showed him. "Now, I'm assuming it won't take Eric long to find Marcin, so you'd better explain what's up before I have to get out of here."
 Sam peered at Kyari intently before grinning crookedly and drawling out a carefully measured, "No."
She was caught off guard by his green eyes, used to seeing the brown of Seth's. "Of course not," she smirked back, slipping the pills into a pocket. "You've got the upper hand: why change that?" She continued digging around in the pocket, looking for something in particular. She didn't find it until she accidentally cut her finger on it.
"... Is this your secret to success?" Sam giggled nervously, looking at the dagger held at his throat. "Confusing your opponents into submission?"
"Confusion?" she chuckled. "I try to avoid it," she replied, twisting her body slightly to shove the caltrop into his side.
Sam flinched violently and jerked his knife into Kyari's neck; not far enough to slice open her windpipe, but more than enough to draw blood. "Don't," he growled. "Unless, of course, you want to die..."
She gasped ever so slightly at the sting of the knife. Something, anything. I've got to get out of this. Stupid me. Really shouldn't have let him know I was there until much later. Too late now. Have to make it up as I go. Seth would be proud.
She began to laugh. "Ah, you never know..." was the answer as she returned a slight cut of her own on his neck.
"Is this a game of chicken you really want to be playing?" Sam asked tiredly. "Honestly, either you kill me or you don't, but I don't have the patience to play any of your stupid mind games."
Mind games? She inwardly chuckled. I suppose I am trying to play. It was then she realized she had something to admit to herself. She wasn't infallible. She couldn't think ahead far enough to come up with the perfect plan. Every time it seemed like she had, it was really just quick thinking and analysis. She withdrew her dagger from Sam's neck, carefully wiping off the blood. "Forget it," she mumbled, her head drooping.
Sam blinked as Kyari withdrew her knife, utterly perplexed. Being who he was, looking gift horses in the mouth was something he'd never really been capable of justifying, but... "How are you even still alive?"