CHAPTER 1

THE MISFIT

“Jayden, get out of bed. There’s someone at the door for you. Jayden! Do you hear me? Get up!”

“Yes, Mom, I hear you. So does half the city. I’m coming.”

Sighing in exasperation, I marked Gallianius’s Early History of Lazium at my favourite passage, where the five famous families first joined forces to repel the brutal invaders from Quadistamm. I stood and glanced at my reflection in the mirror, my most treasured possession after my scrolls. My father had made it for my last birthday, spending hours engraving various reptiles onto its gleaming copper frame. 

As I attempted to tame my unruly blond hair, a black spot on my cheek caught my eye. Is that a pimple? Thankfully, it was just a speck of lint I brushed away. Acne had plagued me for years, finally clearing up just before I turned nineteen. The last thing I wanted was a recurrence. I quickly washed my face, all the while praying that one of the Gods would put my mother in a good mood for once, then strolled into the central hall.

My mother scowled at me. Unfortunately, none of the Gods had intervened. She was in a bad mood, preoccupied with cleaning the house from top to bottom. Finding and eliminating dirt was her obsession, and she tackled it daily with remarkable dedication.

“How’s your arm?” she began in a surprisingly concerned voice that didn’t match her expression.

“Much better,” I replied warily. “It’s still sore and badly bruised, but I can move it without too much pain.”

I dreaded what was coming next. My mother was as predictable as the orbits of the three moons. She had shown considerable concern and fussed over me immediately after the accident. However, once it was clear I’d be okay, she couldn’t resist comparing my ineptitude to my younger brother’s proficiency at every opportunity.

“What possessed you to mount an allosaur?” she began on cue. “You’re usually so timid and cautious. I’m not surprised you fell off and hurt yourself. How could you have been so foolish? Your brother is an expert. He was riding at fourteen, winning most of his races, even against older boys. Why didn’t you ask him for help?”

I stayed silent rather than trying to explain again that her criticisms made little sense. She completely ignored that I had hired a qualified teacher. My mother always portrayed everything I did in the worst possible light and never hesitated to highlight my failures. It’s no wonder every discussion turned into a battle.

“I nearly fainted when they brought you home,” she continued, barely pausing for breath. “The stupid healer was no help. He said your arm was so badly broken it might never heal properly. I hardly slept that night, sick with worry. How could you do that to me?”

“Mom, he was wrong. I’m much better. Let it go,” I replied, knowing she wouldn’t and that I’d be reminded of the distress I’d caused her until I did something else to annoy her even more.

“I don’t understand you,” my mother continued, shifting from my arm to her familiar, tiresome opening salvo, one I’d heard many times.

“Here you are, nearly twenty, squandering your life alone in your room with your silly scrolls. Stop being so lazy and show some interest in becoming a man. Why can’t you be more like your brother? Learn to wield a sword. Find a girlfriend. Your father worked hard to give you everything. You should appreciate his sacrifices and do something useful for him in return.”

I suppressed the urge to tell my mother what she could do with herself. From experience, I knew it would simply deteriorate into a lot of yelling, to the amusement of the servants and the neighbours.

“Who wants to see me?” I asked politely, ignoring her scowl and trying to change the subject.

“How should I know?” my mother snapped, returning to her dusting. “There’s a messenger at the front door.”

As I walked down the immaculate hallway toward the front entrance, my anger intensified with each step, fuelled by her uncanny ability to pinpoint and expose all my insecurities. Nothing I did was ever good enough. My mother never accepted that I was different, that I enjoyed reading, or that I wasn’t interested in the same things as my brother. Even worse, she would tell anyone who would listen that our family was perfect and more successful than any of our neighbours. My quirks, which everyone considered peculiar, undermined the image she worked tirelessly to cultivate. Consequently, I felt like a bothersome disappointment, constantly falling short of her expectations.

As I passed the alcove housing our Shrine to the Ancestors, I couldn’t help but smile fondly at my grandfather’s funeral mask, which hung among the others. He had died several years ago and had been the only one in my family to encourage my studies. Even more remarkable, he had been the only person who could curb my mother’s hurtful tongue and soften her sudden mood swings with his contagious smile and laughter.

“Why’d you die so soon?” I murmured to the cold, expressionless mask. “Life was so much easier when you were here.”

A teenager with curly brown hair and freckles, wearing the standard forest-green messenger tunic, waited impatiently at the front door. He smiled in relief when I finally arrived and handed me a scroll. I set aside my annoyance, smiled back, and gave him a ten–copper tip. He mumbled a few words of thanks and ran off to deliver his next message.

I recognized the orange-and-black seal of Joie Artius, the Prefect of Janiculum and the surrounding province of Volscia. My first thought was that she was unbelievably persistent.

Weeks earlier, the Prefect had offered me a clerical position in her household and, since then, had badgered me for a decision. Joie Artius was a formidable woman who always spoke her mind, showed no discretion, and rarely respected boundaries. Patience or accepting a no for an answer wasn’t part of her makeup. I broke the seal. Her note was short and not a request:

Meet me at Sapientia’s Fountain
by the South Gate at 2:00 sharp.
It’s important so don’t be late. Tell no one!

I was baffled by the message because the Prefect had surprised me the previous afternoon with an unannounced visit to check on my arm. I don’t know how she learned about my accident or why she cared. If something was so important that it required seeing me, she could’ve mentioned it then.

Instead, she barely glanced at my bruises, commented on my carelessness, and reminded me again that she wasn’t accustomed to waiting for an answer when she offered someone a job. Then she swept out of the house, her small entourage of sycophants in tow. The visit impressed the neighbours, which pleased my mother despite her dislike of the Prefect.

“What is it?” my mother asked, snatching the scroll from my hands and reading it.

“Nothing much, and it’s none of your business,” I replied, this time making no effort to hide my irritation. “Prefect Artius probably wants to force me to join her staff.”

My mother glared at me like a reptile poised for battle. Her scowl deepened.

“Just tell her firmly you’re not interested! Your father needs you in his shop. You owe him after all he’s done for you. How could you even consider working for that incompetent snake? She was driven out of Aricia and would have been arrested long ago if her sister weren’t married to the Imperator. You’ll have no future with that inept bureaucrat. Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Imperator eventually executed her. You’ve heard the rumours that she supports those Cambiati bandits. You might find your head on a block beside hers if you join her staff. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I was sure the neighbours halfway down the block could hear the last part. It always amazed me how my mother could start calmly with a simple idea and, within a few sentences, work herself into a frenzy for no apparent reason. Still, she probably had a valid point this time, though I’d never admit it to her.

“Why does the Prefect want to meet at the South Gate rather than at her villa?”

“How should I know?” I replied, heading out the door.

“Pick up some fresh bread for supper on your way home,” my mother ordered as she noticed a speck of dust on the entry table that had to be eradicated. “And make sure it’s fresh. Don’t come back with stale bread like you did last week.”

I resisted slamming the door behind me and stepped into the bright sunshine of Planting Season, a welcome change from the bitter cold and howling winds of the recently concluded Storm Season. The fronds of the giant cycad ferns lining the street were already a lovely light green. Early flowers were blooming in the large decorative pots at the entrance of nearly every house, casting off delightful scents that the gentle breeze carried down the street. It was a perfect day. Everyone was in a good mood—everyone except my mother.

“Is she ever in a good mood?” I muttered. “Will she ever say a kind word to me?”

Before I could work myself into a hot rage, Spero landed on my shoulder and stared intently at me, begging to come along. The tiny nemisaur must have been waiting on the roof. I couldn’t help but smile; at least he was always happy to see me. Spero was now a year old, and his instincts for hunting and guarding the house were beginning to fully manifest, much to the annoyance of passing messengers and delivery boys, whom he taunted several times a day if they came too close to the front door. Spero was merely amusing himself, as he never used his sharp talons or beak to inflict any real damage.

My mother constantly tormented my poor pet, finally banishing him from the house, allegedly for being dirty. In fact, Spero had been easy to housetrain and meticulously preened his blue feathers, with turquoise tinges, several times a day. If anything, he was as obsessive about cleanliness as my mother. He fluttered down to rest on my open hand, inviting me to stroke the scales on his breast, which always drew an appreciative chirp.

“You can’t come with me. I’m heading to the baths for my swim, and you know they won’t let you in.”

Spero squawked in displeasure, as if understanding what I’d said, then returned to his perch on the roof to await the next unwary delivery boy.

I hurried past my father’s shop, next to our house, choosing not to stop and say hello. I wasn’t in the mood for another conversation about becoming his apprentice. My father’s temperament was the opposite of my mother’s, but his subtle pressure was far more effective. Halfway up the street, I heard my brother, Jovian.

“Jayden, wait! Are you going to the baths?” he shouted, stepping out of my father’s shop. I waited for him to catch up.

“How’s the arm today?” he asked, gently touching one of the bruises.

“Not bad. It almost feels back to normal.”

“You heal so quickly. Do you remember the first time I fell off an allosaur? I twisted my ankle so badly I couldn’t walk for a week. It happens to all of us! Mom’s reaction was worse than the pain.”

We both laughed, recalling how she kept muttering about having to wait on him hand and foot while shooing away the poor servants who tried to help.

“How’s Dad today?”

“He’s fine. As I was leaving, he was haggling with a couple interested in buying one of his cabinets. He’ll be in a good mood if it sells. Have you decided yet whether to work for him or the Prefect?”

“You know I don’t want either,” I replied curtly.

My rational side knew I’d have to choose between the two jobs though I was determined to postpone the decision as long as possible. My hesitation stemmed from an unrealistic hope that another option would suddenly appear, and I wasn’t ready to give up that fantasy. 

“They both seem like good options," my brother continued, oblivious to my irritation. “I don’t see why you’re having such a hard time making this decision.”

“Not you too,” I sighed. “I’m not like you, Jovian. You’ve known for years that you want to be a soldier. I only know what I don’t want to do.”

“How hard can it be to choose? At least you have options, unlike many others.”

“Jovian, we’ve had this discussion several times,” I replied, a slight edge in my voice.

“Running pointless errands all day for the Prefect would be torture. I can’t imagine anything more tedious. It wouldn’t be any better if I worked for Dad. We both know I’d be a dreadful cabinetmaker. I’m faced with two awful choices!”

“Making furniture can be a pretty good life,” my brother persisted. “Dad wants you. He’ll teach you everything you need to know. And don’t forget, he makes a lot of money these days. You could, too.”

“Did he put you up to this talk?” I said, shaking my head.
“I don’t care about the money. There’s nothing about being a cabinetmaker I like. It’s not my calling. I detest holding the carving knife, my hand is never steady, and I hate cleaning up the shop.”

“Well, don’t forget it’s your turn tomorrow,” Jovian chuckled.

“Even worse than disappointing Dad is Mom’s likely reaction. If I don’t become Dad’s apprentice, she’ll remind me every day for the rest of my life that I made a terrible mistake.”

“That’s so true,” Jovian agreed. “You can always join the army with me. At least then you’ll have a sword to defend yourself from her.”

I laughed. The idea of me wielding a sword seemed preposterous.

However, negative thoughts and self–doubt began to creep in and fester, as they often did whenever I faced important decisions. I’m almost twenty and can only look forward to a monotonous life. Why can’t I ever get what I want? Why does the world always seem to conspire against me? I tried to push my troubles aside as we strolled down the narrow, cobbled street, bustling with merchants, shoppers, the idle, and the occasional thief. Well, I don’t have to decide which job to take today. I have two and a half seasons left until my birthday. Thank the Gods, no one’s allowed to work until the age of twenty.

I couldn’t help but whistle as we manoeuvred through the crowd, keeping a wary eye out for anyone about to empty a chamber pot from a second–story window. Jovian chattered nonstop about a wealthy girl he was dating, much to her parents’ dismay. They considered him too low–born. Then he shifted to his second favourite obsession: how the various teams fared in the chariot races. I listened patiently, pretending to be interested. At least my negativity faded.

As we passed a dingy alley, a group of ruffians suddenly surrounded us and shoved us into its depths. It happened so quickly and with such skill that no one on the street noticed. Three or four of the thugs blocked the alley's entrance. Another grabbed me from behind. His grimy hand clamped over my mouth, preventing me from calling for help. I struggled frantically, to no avail. So did Jovian. I saw him slam an elbow into a burly man, who hardly grunted as he seized my brother. Just then, a nemisaur dropped from the sky and sank its talons into the face of the man holding me. He screamed, released me, and tried to shield his eyes. I caught a glimpse of the reptile as I fell to the ground.

Is that Spero? I wondered. It couldn’t be.

Blood was seeping between the man’s fingers. It turned my stomach, and I began to feel dizzy. Before I could call for help, it was over. The man gasped and fell to the ground, a knife sticking out of his back. Within seconds, the other hooligans joined him. Everything happened so fast that they had no chance to defend themselves. I had no idea what was going on. All I knew was that they were dead and the nemisaur was gone. A stranger pulled Jovian and me up and pushed us towards the street.

“Run,” he ordered as several other strangers closed in behind him, shielding the bodies from view.

I just looked at him in shock.

“Run, you idiot,” he repeated. “There may be others coming for you!”

Jovian grabbed my arm and sprinted down the street as fast as he could, dragging me along. We ran three blocks before we stopped, gasping for breath. My heart was pounding and my legs were so shaky I had to sit on a bench or risk falling over. Never having seen a dead body before I was on the verge of passing out from shock. Everything around me spun uncontrollably. True to form, Jovian shook off the incident in a few minutes.

“Take a few deep breaths,” Jovian said, steadying me so I wouldn’t faint. “We’re safe now.”

“Wha Wha What just happened?” I could barely get the words out of my mouth.

“Either a robbery or a kidnapping to hold us for ransom,” Jovian replied. “In broad daylight! Those strangers saved us.”

“Who were they?”

“No idea. I didn’t recognize any of them.”

“Let’s report this to the city garrison. They killed all those ruffians.”

“Are you an idiot? We shouldn’t report anything,” Jovian said. “Let the men who rescued us handle it. If we go to the authorities, Mom and Dad will find out what happened. Do you want to deal with them?”

I was skeptical, but I could see his point. Mom’s reaction would be dramatic, and we wouldn’t be allowed out alone for weeks. When some colour returned to my face, he pulled me to my feet.

“Let’s go. It’s only a couple of blocks to the baths. No point wasting the rest of the day.”

We barely spoke as we hurried along, eager to escape the crowded street. I couldn’t shake the image of blood and lifeless bodies from my mind.

CHAPTER  2

THE BATHS OF LUDORIAN

My arms and legs still trembled as we arrived at the Baths of Ludorian. Jovian paid the modest fifteen-copper entry fee, and we went in. Most days, I visited the baths to wash, swim, and chat with my few friends. So did a couple of thousand other residents of Janiculum. The comforting familiarity made me feel much safer, and I began to calm down.

Buildings have fascinated me since childhood. If I had been born with a steady hand and artistic talent, I might have become an architect. The baths were the tallest and most impressive structure in Janiculum. The exterior was clad in rich white marble that sparkled in the sun, contrasting sharply with the dull grey stone and brown brick of the surrounding buildings. The complex featured a massive swimming pool and intricate hot, warm, and cold bathing halls. Most remarkable were the steam rooms, supplied by a network of water pipes heated by a fire in a room below. Only Aricia, the capital, had anything comparable. A variety of grooming services, two exercise rooms, a kitchen that served decent meals, a library, and private rooms for conducting business were also available. 

The interior decor was lavish, far more luxurious than any temple in the city. The contrast seemed almost sacrilegious to devout believers. The ceiling soared four stories high, with a massive dome at the centre, supported by an imposing set of pillars and arches that ran the length of the building, creating a sense of grandeur and majesty. Magnificent statues of the eight Gods adorned one side of the great hall, each glittering with silver-trimmed inlays, enhanced by sunlight cascading through the high windows. Facing them were the stern statues of each Imperator of the Veturi Dynasty, all trying to appear virtuous and wise, even though the reality of some of their reigns suggested otherwise.

As we walked toward the men’s changing room at the end of the long central corridor, my heartbeat finally returned to normal, though my legs remained wobbly. I paused to gaze up at the statue of Romarian, my favourite Imperator and founder of the Veturi Dynasty. In my daydreams, I often imagined myself as a modern–day Romarian: muscular, heroic, just, and calm in the face of adversity. Then my mother’s voice would somehow intrude on my thoughts, reminding me that I had few talents, was prone to panic attacks, and would never amount to much unless I started following her advice.

“What’s wrong now?” Jovian muttered, yanking my good arm. “You move at the speed of a stegosaur and have half its brains. Let’s go.”

Jovian, of course, had no interest in history or statues. He was a straightforward guy who focused on girls, the chariot races, and becoming a soldier, in that order. Whenever I tried to share my thoughts on the statues, he looked at me as if I were a demented older brother in need of help. I knew he had completely forgotten about the attack in the alley when, true to form, he began ogling a pretty blonde girl sitting on a bench by a window, chatting with her friends. He’d entirely forgotten about the supposed true love he’d been telling me about earlier. Suddenly, he began skipping along the subtle geometric pattern of the floor, presumably to impress her.

“And you called me an idiot,” I said as the girl ignored him.

“She looked back at me,” he crowed triumphantly a minute later.

I had to admit he was generally successful when it came to romance.

While Jovian kept flirting, I couldn’t help but look at each of Romarian’s successors standing guard along the corridor. It helped take my mind off the dead bodies. I recognized them all. Several had become synonymous with vanity. I stopped before the statue of Domitian, one of the worst, and couldn’t help but make a few comments, even though I was sure how Jovian would react.

“Did you know he forced the carvers to make so many adjustments to his features and body that his statue bears no resemblance to his actual appearance? Naturally, the scribes gleefully recorded the alterations in detail after his death. They ridiculed him, with the blessing of his son, who was eager to distance himself from his unpopular father. The bad ones never learn this lesson and continually repeat the pattern. I guess no Imperator ever sees themselves as a failure, especially when constantly surrounded by flatterers.”

Jovian rolled his eyes in exasperation. “How interesting, Jayden! I see why you never date. Perhaps your true calling is putting people to sleep. Can we get going before we waste the whole day? I have better things to do than listen to your dumb stories about long–dead rulers. What do they matter now?”

I dragged myself away from Domitian’s statue and followed Jovian down the corridor, feigning interest in his explanation for why the White Team consistently dominated the local chariot races. He dismissed any attempts to discuss the attack.

“To what purpose?” he grumbled. “We had a run–in with bandits. We’re not the first, and we won’t be the last. It’s over. We’re fine. Forget about it. You always overthink everything.”

We passed by the statue of Imperator Osarion, standing guard at the entrance to the men’s changing room. It was one of the more lifelike statues, depicting an average-looking man who radiated intensity and confidence. For once, Jovian noticed it.

“Look what someone has scribbled on the base,” he said, laughing.

It was some profanity about the supposed small size of Osarion’s penis.

“Not surprising, given all the misery he inflicted on the empire through his wars and purges,” I replied.

Jovian sighed and shook his head.

I couldn’t help but think of Osarion as we walked into the changing room. The fastidious cleaning staff would erase the graffiti within a few hours, but nothing could ever sanitize Osarion’s ruthless reign. Generations would pass by this statue, and countless fathers would point out to their children what a monster he had been. Sadly, most people thought Jamarian Veturius, the current Imperator, was not much better. I was one of the few still withholding final judgment.

“You can stop daydreaming and join us on this earth any time you want,” Jovian said, interrupting my thoughts and punching my arm, careful not to hit any bruises.

“You didn’t even notice the two gorgeous girls who passed us just before we came in. Unbelievably, one of them even looked at you with interest. Instead of filling your head with boring stories about stupid statues, you should figure out how to meet her.”

I just smiled. He never changed.

Once inside, my brother said he would catch up with me later and went to join a few friends lounging on a bench. Part of me was tempted to go with him, knowing Jovian would worry I might embarrass him by saying something foolish. Rather than revel in his discomfort, I looked for Senji. He was on the far side, wrapping a towel around his waist. I walked over to my oldest and closest friend. Senji’s father, a trader, had brought home a wife from far–off Jambudvipa, much to the dismay of his family. Like me, Senji had struggled to fit in as a young boy. Our shared desire for acceptance drew us together at once, making us inseparable.

Why can’t I be more like him?  Lately, this thought has come frequently. Senji’s so confident, so capable, and a Gray Heart. How lucky can one person be?

Senji smiled warmly upon seeing me.

“Jayden, what a surprise. I didn’t think you’d be well enough to get out of bed for days, so I was planning to visit you later. How’s the arm?”

“It’s much better,” I replied. “It hardly hurts.”

Senji looked puzzled as he stared at the bruises. I sensed he was about to say something about them, but he hesitated, stepped forward, and rested a hand on my shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Your face is as pale as a ghost. You keep glancing around nervously, and your legs are trembling slightly. Are you truly alright?”

“I’m fine now. Go ahead while I change. I’ll tell you what happened when I get there.”

“You sure?” I nodded.

“Meet me in the small steam room,” he replied, a look of concern on his face. “Once I hear your story, I’ve got some good news.”

I removed my tunic, leggings, and underclothes, placing them in a basket on a shelf, then quickly wrapped myself in a large towel. I avoided looking at myself in the mirror. My body feels so skinny and pathetic. Why can’t I have Senji’s firmness and muscle definition? My inner voice unhelpfully reminded me that my body would improve if I exercised as often as Senji. I pushed the unwelcome thought aside, glanced briefly at the other young men changing, recognized a few, and made my way to the steam room. Before leaving, I handed an attendant a twenty-copper coin to ensure my clothes wouldn't be disturbed. My brother had already left with his friends, likely to go swimming.

“What happened?” Senji asked as I entered the steam room and squeezed in between him and an elegant older man.

I told him about the attack, the dead bodies, and Jovian’s insistence that we do not tell the city garrison.

“For once, your brother makes sense. What can you say to the authorities? You don’t know the men who attacked you. You don’t know the ones who saved you. You didn’t lose any coins. The only outcome is that you’ll spend hours being questioned, possibly getting your rescuers in trouble. There’ve been more muggings than usual lately. The streets aren’t always safe, even in daylight. You should carry a knife for protection, like everyone else. Just forget it happened.”

“You’re probably right,” I replied hesitantly. There was no point arguing with a Red, and I was too embarrassed to mention the haunting images of dead bodies that kept lingering in my mind. “So, what’s your news?”

“A formal summons from the Gray Academy arrived this morning!” Senji replied excitedly. “My training will begin at the start of Harvest Season. A Purple will come to take me to Aricia on a quetza. Can you believe it? I’ll be riding a giant flying lizard.”

Senji’s smile and excitement faded as he saw my reaction, which I’d failed to hide. He grew more serious.

“I’ll be leaving Janiculum, my family, you, and everyone I know. I’ve been dreaming of this since I was tested, but now that it’s so close, I’m scared.”

I tried to keep any hint of jealousy out of my voice. “Don’t be a reptile’s ass, Senji. We both know you’ll excel at the Academy, as you do in everything. I’ll miss you so much. You’ve been my best friend since we were kids.”

“Don’t get all sentimental on me, Jayden,” Senji replied softly, as if embarrassed by the implied intimacy. “It’ll be many weeks before I leave, and we’ll always be best friends.”

I smiled, but I knew it was a lie.

My mind raced chaotically, as it often does when I’m upset and trying to cope with my anxieties. Aricia is hundreds of miles away, huge, and filled with magnificent buildings steeped in history. It’s decadent, dirty, and teeming with danger. Could any place be more exciting? The Gray Academy is even more extraordinary. Senji, with his enhanced memory and predisposition for strategy, will join a small group of students undergoing five years of rigorous training. He’ll graduate as a Red, join the renowned Gray Legion, and won’t be the same person when he returns to Janiculum. He’ll have new friends, and we’ll have nothing in common anymore. I’ll no longer mean anything to him. His life will be thrilling and adventurous, while I’ll be an obscure clerk to a semi–disgraced Prefect or an unhappy apprentice in my father’s furniture business. Either way, my mother will always be there, eager to chronicle my shortcomings.

Knowing my tendency to overdramatize, I set aside my growing envy, laid my hand affectionately on Senji’s shoulder, and changed the subject. “Look who just walked in. Isn’t that the girl you chased a few weeks ago?”

“It is,” he sighed a bit too loudly. “But I struck out. Being rich, good–looking, and a Gray Heart isn’t enough to make up for my skin colour,” Senji half–joked, knowing full well what I was doing. “Besides, who wants to date someone who can never have children?”

“Her loss,” I replied. “She’ll regret it when you become famous.”

I looked at my friend and shook my head. How could anyone not appreciate the longish black hair, the strong, almost exotic facial features with a hint of beard beginning to grow in, the large eyes that resembled obsidian, the genuine smile, the sparkling white teeth, the full lips, and the striking light-brown skin tone? The only blemish is his oversized head, which will grow even larger in a few years, as with all Reds.

“Listen,” I said, changing the subject yet again, “The Prefect wants to meet me this afternoon, likely to pester me again about becoming her clerk. Please come along. I don’t want to walk the streets alone after what happened this morning. It shouldn’t take long, and your presence may make it even shorter. Then we can listen to music and share a jug of wine. There’s an excellent singer at the Starving Stego.”

“Sounds good,” Senji replied. “Let’s get going. I’m tired of sitting here, sweating. By the way, you’re buying.”

“Oh,” I added, “don’t let me forget to pick up some fresh bread for supper. Otherwise, the reptile posing as my mother will bite my head off.”

Senji laughed as we left the steam room. Before going to meet the Prefect, we had time for a refreshing swim and a brief stint in the hot bathing hall. I’d almost forgotten about the attack in the alley.  

CHAPTER  3

THE PREFECT

The South Gate overlooks a massive bridge spanning the eastern arm of the tempestuous River Rhenum, which is prone to sudden flooding. It’s the least impressive of the four gates of Janiculum. Unlike the others, its decorative carvings are rather plain, though its fortifications are just as thick and sturdy. Senji and I arrived early and sat in the shade on the steps leading to the battlements, easily visible from the fountain of Sapientia, the Goddess of Wisdom. We chatted while we waited, mostly about Senji’s latest love interest, which, for once, seemed to have potential.

“Check out that man over there,” I said, interrupting Senji mid–sentence as he described their first kiss. I nodded towards a fierce–looking man loitering on the other side of the fountain. His face was scarred, and he was missing a couple of front teeth and a finger on his sword hand.

“He keeps staring at me!”

“You might be right, or perhaps your mind is playing tricks on you after what happened this morning,” Senji replied. “Don’t look back!”

I couldn’t help myself. A sense of menace emanated from the man.

It’s his eyes, I realized. They’re so cold. This is a man who has killed! Many times! I don’t know how I reached this conclusion, having never encountered anyone like him before, but I was sure I was right.

He knew I was watching but didn’t look away. Instead, he flashed a strange smile, touched the hilt of the sword at his side, and licked his lips, sending a clear message that he wouldn’t hesitate to draw it. My heart raced as my discomfort deepened.

Before I could do or say anything more, a shabby woman seated on one of the benches around the fountain stood and walked toward us. She had been there since we arrived. Only when she stopped before me did I recognize the Prefect. She was alone. Her gaggle of guards and staff was nowhere to be seen. Nor was she wearing her chain of office or the white robe with scarlet trim that signified her patrician status. Also missing was the prized lizard badge indicating she was a Yellow with enhanced senses.

Instead, the Prefect wore a tattered brown merchant’s robe with the hood drawn up, obscuring much of her face, especially her oversized eyes and ears. The few short strands of white hair that peeked out were messy, a sharp contrast to her usual well–coiffed, elegant appearance. Her face looked puffy, not softened by the subtle tinted creams that were one of her trademarks. Yet her ever–present bow and a quiver full of arrows were strapped to her side, as she was seldom without them. It was impossible to overlook that she seemed worried, irritated, and fatigued. There was no greeting.

“Senji Severus, what are you doing here?” she barked in a hostile tone.

“Jayden asked me to come,” Senji replied, taken aback.
“If you need to talk to him privately, I can leave you both alone until you’re done.”

“Never mind,” the Prefect snapped, as if making an instant decision. “Come along, both of you, and be quick.”

Without another word, she marched a few blocks down a narrow side street, then turned into an even narrower alley decorated with litter dancing in the gentle breeze. I found myself running to keep up, growing increasingly uneasy. An alley was the last place I wanted to be. Even worse, Senji whispered that the strange man at the fountain was following us, making no effort to be discreet.

“What’s happening?” I asked, gazing quizzically at Senji, who merely shrugged.

A simple six–wheeled transport cart hitched to a huge, content–looking stegosaur blocked the middle of the alley. An obese, hooded man lay in the back, partly covered by a dirty canvas. Like the Prefect, he wore dusty brown clothes, and his face was mostly hidden beneath a giant hood. Joie Artius stopped beside the cart. The fat man didn’t get up or offer a greeting. She was about to say something when she suddenly spun around and stared behind us, her piercing green eyes twice the size of mine, fixed on something. It was impossible to read anything from her blank expression. Senji and I both turned to see what she was looking at. It was our stalker!

After a few cautious steps into the alley, he stopped and drew a small horn from his tunic. Before it could touch his lips, a slim young woman appeared out of nowhere and ran him through from behind with her rapier.

“Rhea, hide the body behind those crates,” the Prefect ordered, nodding in approval of the young woman’s work. “The Sine Nomine is usually subtle. He was sending us a message by being so open, and he can’t be the only agent. There will be several others trailing me. He was about to summon them.”

“Do you want me to double back and eliminate them?” Rhea asked as she effortlessly pushed the body out of sight behind the crates.

“No,” the Prefect replied. “My Cambiati will take care of anyone else.”

I’m sure my face paled as the young woman casually wiped the blood from her rapier on one of the few clean patches of the dead man’s tunic. Another body with more blood flowing! I began to shake, feeling the first signs of a panic attack. As a result, Senji’s comment that the woman was unbelievably fast barely registered. I was so focused on fighting my anxiety that I missed his meaning. Ignoring my reaction, the Prefect turned to me.

“Jayden, listen carefully! You’re in extraordinary danger. This morning, you survived an attempt by the Sine Nomine to seize you. Thankfully, my Cambiati were watching,” she began in her usual blunt, direct manner. The Prefect wasn’t known for sensitivity or diplomacy.

“You have to get out of the city immediately. Hop into the cart and hide among the containers. Cover yourself completely with the canvas. No one must see you. Senji, go with him. You’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hurry. I’ll explain everything later.”

I didn’t understand what was happening or how to react. By then, my heart was racing uncontrollably, my chest felt like a vice, and my legs were trembling. I could barely stand.

“I, I, I can’t,” I blurted. “My mother wants me to bring some bread home for supper.”

It was the first thing that came to mind, and I knew immediately it was stupid. Beside me, Senji was deep in thought. His puzzled expression made it clear he couldn’t make sense of the situation either.

“There’s no time to argue. I’ve already waited longer than I wanted to let my Cambiati clear our way,” the Prefect replied impatiently. Her fingers curled into a hand signal.

Suddenly, the young woman called Rhea grabbed me and forced a rag soaked in a foul-smelling drug over my mouth and nose. I tried to twist away, but she was too strong. The fat man jumped out of the cart with surprising agility. He landed in front of Senji and knocked him senseless with a slap to the head. Panic took hold, and I couldn’t think straight. As the drug took effect, I grew frantic. My arms and legs went numb. A mother and her two young children were watching from the mouth of the alley. To my dismay, she didn’t say a word or raise an alarm. No one ever did in this part of Janiculum. Without a second glance, they turned and walked away.

The Prefect just stared impassively.

“It’s easier this way,” I heard her say to her helpers. “These two wouldn’t have stayed quiet and out of sight. Take them both. If we leave Senji behind, he’ll have the garrison looking for us within minutes of waking. Hurry! My sister’s spies are everywhere; even the Cambiati might miss some. We’ll all be dead if they catch us.”

Those were the last words I heard before the world went dark.

*****

Hours later, I regained a semblance of consciousness and pushed aside the canvas covering my face. It wasn’t easy to focus, but I saw it was dusk and that we were far from the city. There was no sign of the lemon, olive, and orange farms that surrounded Janiculum and generated most of its prosperity. All I could see through the rails of the cart was the endless variety of ferns, trees, and early flowers that filled the untilled countryside. I recognized the vegetation. My father had taken my brother and me camping in the wilderness a few times when I was young, an experience I didn’t want to relive. I had hated sleeping on the hard ground, fighting the insects, and, most of all, being unable to bathe each day. 

The Prefect was talking, but I was too groggy to follow what she was saying. Her voice sounded like buzzing insects.

“Daxon, can’t this stego go any faster?” the Prefect asked impatiently a few minutes later. Those were the first words I clearly understood. Now I knew the fat man’s name.

“I’m afraid not,” he replied. “She may be slow, but she’s sturdy. This stego can trot for the rest of the night and all day tomorrow without rest or food. It’s not always the allosaur that wins the race.”

The Prefect couldn’t help but chuckle at the corny saying.

“Joie! Daxon! They’re already here,” the young woman named Rhea said calmly, pointing to the darkening sky.

Senji was more alert, having recovered from the blow much faster than I had from the drug. He pushed aside more of the course covering to give us an unobstructed view. In the western sky, a swarm of at least thirty quetzas was visible.

“So much earlier than I expected,” the Prefect whispered.
“I was sure we’d have at least another day before the Gray Legion arrived, even after what happened this morning.”

“There are probably sixty triads on those reptiles,” Rhea observed. “We’ll need a lot of luck to escape.”

“Rhea, we have to get away,” replied the Prefect, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. “The Imperator can’t get his hands on Jayden. I’ll kill him myself before that happens. Daxon! Get us off the road and into the forest. Hurry! We need cover.” 

As the fat young man struggled to persuade the reluctant stegosaur to enter the forest, we watched the quetzas begin a perfectly coordinated descent into Janiculum. I was mystified, wondering what Gray Hearts wanted with an odd misfit like me. The reference to being killed did wonders to dispel what remained of my grogginess.

We travelled deep into the forest for the next half hour. Eventually, the stego could go no further, as the giant ferns and trees were packed so tightly that there wasn’t enough room for it or the cart to pass. As darkness fell, Daxon and Rhea unhitched the stego and pushed the cart into a small gap between a clump of ferns, then covered it with fallen branches and dead fronds.

“Pretend you’re still drugged,” Senji whispered. “It may make them careless and give us a chance to slip away, though I doubt we can get far against them!”

Once again, I misunderstood what he meant, though I feigned unconsciousness as Daxon lifted me effortlessly from the cart and set me gently on the ground beneath the protective cover of a fern. Senji hopped off on his own and sat beside me, already fully recovered. Joie had seen him move the canvas aside, so pretending he was still incapacitated was pointless.

I watched warily through half–closed eyes as the Prefect paced impatiently, frequently glancing at the sky as if expecting one of the flying reptiles to swoop down through the emerging foliage at any moment. She rubbed the back of her neck several times to ease the mounting tension in her face and struggled to focus on the map she’d pulled from her robe. Her demeanour frightened me. I’d seen Joie Artius at several official functions over the past few years; she was always so composed and in control, never like this.

“The ferns will provide substantial cover even though they’re still unfurling,” Daxon remarked, trying to reassure her that we couldn’t be easily spotted.

“They’re not yet big enough to hide us from the eyes of a Yellow,” the Prefect snapped back.

The forest seemed tranquil, almost idyllic. Enough moonlight filtered through the leaves to bathe everything in a gentle glow. A short distance away, the stego was happily nibbling on tasty bushes and an unexpected treat of termites whose nest she’d just broken apart. While I wouldn’t say I liked the outdoors very much, I might’ve enjoyed the scene if not for the mounting tension as the darkness took hold and shadows grew longer. I had no idea why I’d been taken or why I was in any danger. Even my usually vivid imagination couldn’t think of a reason, but there was no denying what was happening. My chronic anxiety began to rise steadily. I was almost at the threshold of another panic attack.

“Only a few hours and our whole plan is in tatters,” the Prefect muttered despondently.

“Well, no use trying to drink spilt wine,” Daxon commented. “We’ll just have to adjust.”

The Prefect rolled her eyes at the unhelpful statement of the obvious.

“Get those two moving, Rhea. Jayden’s awake and has been listening for quite some time. The worst effects of the drug have worn off.”

I glanced at Senji.

“We should’ve known we couldn’t fool a Yellow,” he whispered as we stood. I almost fell over.

It took Rhea a few minutes, some cold water from a nearby stream, and a shot of a powerful spirit to help me stand without feeling dizzy.

“Daxon, you might as well shed your disguise while Jayden gathers his thoughts,” the Prefect suggested. “You won’t need it anymore, and it’ll hinder you in the forest.”

Out of the blue it struck me. Daxon was incredibly tall—almost eight feet. Until then, he’d always been sitting or lying down. I hadn’t noticed his height before, only his bulk. His remarkable size hadn’t registered during the brief skirmish in the alley because of my panic. I watched in astonishment as he removed his oversized, flowing cape, tunic, and leggings. Beneath them were bags strapped to his torso, arms, and legs. Whatever was inside them shook like jelly as he undid the straps.

“Just a lot of reptile fat,” Daxon grinned at my confusion.

As the bags of fat fell away, an incredibly muscular body emerged. Daxon was left standing in only his loincloth. I was mesmerized. I’d never seen such an impressive physique. Try as I might, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his bulging muscles, handsome, chiselled face, short dark hair, and boyish grin.

Daxon reached into the cart, pulled out a bag, and quickly dressed in the black leggings and charcoal tunic of the Gray Legion. Three green stripes on his left sleeve and a green lizard brooch pinned at his neck confirmed what I already knew. He was a Green. Beside him, both Rhea and the Prefect shed their drab merchant robes to reveal the same uniform beneath. The stripes on Rhea’s sleeve signified she was a Blue with enhanced speed.

Seeing them in uniform, adorned with the famous stripes and brooches, took my breath away. I felt like a spellbound child who had just witnessed mythical creatures come to life. Connecting the dots was easy: a Green, a Blue, and a Yellow. Together, they formed a battle triad, an elite fighting unit of the Gray Legion, with the strength and training to defeat many times their number. The significance of Senji’s remark when he first spotted Rhea in the alley finally dawned on me. Unlike me, he had immediately grasped what they were.

I had read about the triads many times, and now one was right in front of me. It was unbelievable. The only Gray Hearts I had ever encountered were Senji, who was not yet trained, and the Prefect, who everyone knew was a Yellow. I couldn’t help but stare at each of them as if in a trance, taking in every detail while my mind cycled through the many stories I had read about the heroic feats of various triads over the centuries. Daxon strapped on an impressive broadsword that looked like it could slice through the thickest fern trunk. I had already witnessed what Rhea’s light, lethal rapier could do. 

Senji shattered my fairy-tale moment with one of his astonishing insights.

“What do you want with Jayden?” he asked. “Is he a Gray Heart like the rest of us? I’d know if he had any of the five enhancements. He doesn’t. That only leaves the unthinkable.”

The Prefect looked surprised, flashing a rare smile. “It didn’t take you long, Senji Severus,” she replied. “I’m impressed.”

I looked back and forth between Senji and the Prefect, stunned and confused, before collapsing in shock.