Chapter 2

Darkness usually meant peace and serenity for Zander Kelly. A tranquil place where the pains, distractions and demands of his waking moments disappeared. Alcohol usually helped this process and his peace would last for a while.

But this time, he dreamed. Darkness shifted to colors, then shapes, people, places, then voices.

"So, Zander Kelly."

It was a memory. He focused his eyes at the figure in front of him. It was Captain Hartwin. A little younger, fewer grey hair.

He was in a small room with cold stone walls and an even colder floor. It was big enough to house two people, four at most. He shook his head and as he was about to reach for his head, he heard the clang of metal. He was bound. His wrists were shackled by iron cuffs with chains that fastened onto loops nailed onto a rough, heavy table.

"Fuck," he groaned.

"Fuck, alright," Hartwin chuckled. "Name's Captain Bertrand Hartwin, but you can call me Captain."

Zander glared at the man who laughed at his pain. Then winced. The sharp throb on his right eye made sure to remind him of the nasty hit he took last night.

"Do you get into fights a lot, Sir Kelly?" Hartwin asked as he took the seat in front of him.

Zander stayed silent as his eyes darted. The man in front of him was an elite. He had a family crest which indicated nobility and even the air around him screamed competence. The shackles, made of thick iron, were too secure to break, and too complicated to pick. The angle of the light that went through the singular window indicated that they were at a higher elevation. And last but not least, the two guards who kept peeking into the room made sure that the door was secure. There was no escape.

"I'm surprised you could still think," Hartwin continued. "I thought that the alcohol would've stopped anything from happening up there."

As if on cue, a headache suddenly peeked through. It was piercing. Nauseating. The amount of bottles he consumed were lost to Zander, but the aftermath sure made every word Hartwin said into a hammer that bashed his skull.

"Can you just tell me why I'm here?" Zander groaned through gritted teeth.

"Right onto business I see," Hartwin retorted. "Well, Sir Kelly. Let me enlighten you."

He gestured with his hand and immediately, a guard came in with rolls of parchment. Then he stood there, at perfect attention, while Hartwin pulled each roll one by one.

"Thirty-first day of spring, you assaulted a man in an alley. He was drunk and a known sex offender so we let you go when a witness testified that you were protecting her."

He pulled another one.

"But first day of spring, you instigated a brawl in a local tavern. The owner and multiple witnesses said you started it because, and I quote, 'A guy looked at you the wrong way'."

"What's the point here, Captain?" Zander asked.

"That I don't know what to make of you," Hartwin replied. "One time you were protecting people then the next you beat up people for no reason."

"NOT without reason."

"Oh, is that so?" he said, sarcasm dripped with every word. He unfurled one roll and revealed a name. "Did you have a reason to punch Sir Thomas Bell? Hell, do you even remember him?"

Zander furrowed his brow. His mind raced for the memory. However, the name eluded him like a ship in the night.

"Forty-eighth day of winter. He was an apprentice of a chef, famous for their roasted duck. One night, as he was walking on the icy paths to get home, he slipped. Lost control, of course. And bumped into someone. Care to guess who that was?"

Zander averted his gaze. It was piercing. Heavy. It was as if he was in a wine press, the load, slowly bore its weight on him. Crushed him to a pulp.

"You were drunk that night," he continued. "You probably don't even remember so let me tell you what you did. By the time you were through, he had bruises all over him. Three broken ribs. His teeth were either shattered or completely gone. And you know what the worst part was? You broke his nose so good that he lost his sense of smell. Which, as it turns out also affects your sense of taste. You know what it's like for a chef to lose his sense of taste?"

No answer.

Hartwin scoffed. "Figures," he said, standing up to head for the door. "You'll probably be in jail only for a bit, Sir Kelly. But know this, if the alcohol or some accident on the street doesn't kill you, we eventually will if you keep this up."

When he was finished, he gestured for the rest of the guards outside to come in. Three guards followed his orders and swarmed Zander. As the door closed, Zander caught a glimpse of Hartwin one last time. And what he saw was the last thing he expected. His face didn't show any signs of disdain, or hatred. It was sadness. And disappointment.

Then, the metal door closed with a loud bang.

He jolted awake. Jumped, even. He panted like he just ran for his life. Afraid, but wide awake. His ears twitched from the sounds of clopping hooves and grinding wheels. Surrounding him were four walls made of wood with windows on each side. He was in a carriage. A moving box for those rich enough to afford it.

As he sat up, sharp pain shot up his head. A normal occurrence for Zander, but the pain will always be alien for him.

"Hangover?"

Zander blinked, clearing the blur for the person who called out to him. When his eyes adjusted, he smirked.

"Hartwin," he said. "Did you manage to catch the old guy?"

He sat across him. Arms crossed, chest puffed up. He nodded, carrying with him an air of superiority and seniority befitting of someone almost twice his age. It irked him.

"No need to be patronizing. I got hit in the face. A headache's normal."

He glanced out the window, hoping to get his bearings. The carriage traversed through Ambrosia, capital city of the Kingdom of Ustaad. Specifically, through the Nobility Neighborhoods. Here, many nobles made their incredible dwellings. On the hills of the northern wall, there were mansions made of marble and granite, sculpted by many artisans and embedded with precious metals and jewels. Structures that separated themselves from the wood and simple stone that made up most of the sprawling metropolis. But even the mansion of the vainest nobility couldn't hope to stand against the giant castle that rested at the heart of the city. Fortified and strong, it casted its shadow on the populous. Reminding them that the kingdom will be their refuge so long as they give their allegiance.

"Where're you taking me?"

Hartwin shrugged. "I don't know myself" he replied. "Superiors just said to take you to a specific place. So I thought, why not take you for a ride? There's also something I wanted to discuss with you anyway."

Zander scoffed. "What's there to talk about?"

He reached for something at the back of his pants. His heart stopped. It was gone. His eyes went wide, then with panicked breaths, he patted his entire person with the hopes that he had misplaced it somewhere on him.

"Looking for this?" Hartwin asked as he dangled a small silver flask. Liquid sloshed audibly as he shook it.

Zander gulped, salivated. Unconsciously his hand rushed for it. "Give it to me," he said.

But Hartwin was faster. With one swift jerk, the flask evaded Zander's greedy grasp.

"How many times do I have to tell you that this'll kill you one day?" Hartwin asked.

Without responding, Zander snatched the flask from his hand. This time, Hartwin didn't resist.

With his treasure in his possession once more, Zander twisted the cap and glugged the liquid inside. Stinging, burning, bitter liquid that tickled his senses. He was revitalized. And with one satisfied sigh, he turned to the other person with them. A man in his early youth.

"Who's the kid?" Zander asked.

"The reason why I wanted to talk with you," Hartwin replied. He then turned to the young man and said, "Introduce yourself."

The young man nodded and gave Zander a slight bow.

"It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Defender Edward Nolan."

Zander scanned him. He was handsome. Blonde haired, blue eyed, and sun-kissed, he was the type of man who caused trouble with the ladies. His ring finger wasn't occupied yet, but it was only a matter of time.

"Defender huh?" Zander crossed his arms. "Aren't you a little young to be part of The Shield's Internal Affairs?"

Edward chuckled. "Yes, I get that a lot. But believe me when I say that I'm even more competent than those who were in the job for years."

Zander raised an eyebrow at Hartwin.

"Hey don't look at me," he said, arms raised in defense. "It's better if you hear it from the horse's mouth."

"That's right," Edward said. "And as the horse in this situation, I'm here to inform you that the higher-ups sent me to investigate this little experiment that Captain Hartwin started."

"Experiment?" Zander asked.

"Yes," Edward replied. "I was sent to determine whether or not using petty criminals to arrest high-profile ones in exchange for leniency is beneficial to the peace of the kingdom."

"And?" Zander asked with an obvious show of annoyance. "What'd you find?"

"Exactly what I was expecting," Edward sighed. "A petty criminal can't possibly be an asset to the Shields no matter how well they're treated."

Zander scoffed and turned to Hartwin. "And you? What do you got to say about this?"

Hartwin shrugged. "It's out of my hands, Kelly. Remember, my superiors were skeptical about our arrangement from the start. I guess they've decided that keeping you wasn't worth the risk."

"Fuck," Zander chuckled slightly. "Throwing me away after squeezing me out huh?"

"Uh, might wanna-" Hartwin said.

"I know I heard it after I said it," Zander quickly rebutted.

The air was tense. The scent of bitterness hung in the air as silence took over.

"Look, we were actually expecting great result from you, Sir Kelly," Edward continued. "However, after the many times you resisted arrest, was on the job drunk, or started an unnecessary fight, your record showed that while you produced results, you're too unreliable and volatile to be a sustainable asset to the Shields."

Zander rolled his eyes. "This is fucking bullshit," he said. "Tell your superiors that at least have the balls to fire me directly, not send some wonder child to do it for them."

In the face of Zander's sudden aggression, Edward simply stared at him. As if he was observing a creature behind a cage. "Is this... how he normally acts, Captain?"

"Believe it or not, this is actually his tamest," Hartwin sighed. Then, he fished a piece of parchment from his pocket and presented it to Zander. "Exchange this for crowns at a bank. Don't spend it all on booze."

As soon as he heard the clink of coins in his mind, Zander snatched the paper from Hartwin's hands and peeked at the contents. Satisfied, all previous shows of aggression, disappeared. Forgotten. And what replaced it was a face full of excitement.

"While your behavior might have been the main factor for your termination, there's actually another reason why my superiors found it timely to release you," Edward followed.

"Halt!" the driver announced from his seat.

Following suit, the clops of the horses dwindled and the carriage settled.

"Oh! We're here!" Hartwin said as he undid the latch and pushed the door open. "Get out and meet your new employer."

Zander furrowed his brow. Employer? Zander wanted some answers but before he could ask his questions, Hartwin almost pushed him out of the carriage.

"See you, Sir Kelly!" Edward waved goodbye. "Please don't kill anyone while we're away."

Then, Hartwin closed the doors and the carriage rode off with a crack of a whip.

With familiar faces gone, Zander scanned his surroundings to get his bearings once again. The scenery he saw from the carriage gave him a vague idea of where they were headed but the scene laid before him still gave him quite the shock.

Food, specifically cakes and other pastries he didn't recognize, sat on round tables, wrapped by pristine white tablecloths. Sitting near them were individuals who wore ornaments that sparkled along with the serene shimmer of the lake. Nobles. Just the fabric of their clothing alone could get him food for a month. At the sight of such luxury, his stomach knotted, as if rejecting the mere sight of affluence.

With grace, they drank their tea. With poise, they laughed and conversed. Zander scanned himself. Dirty tunic, ripped off pants, the stench of a skunk's corpse bathed under the heat of the sun. What was he doing here? Perhaps Hartwin and Edward were punishing him for the fiasco at the fighting pit.

No one has noticed him yet. Maybe if he ran away now, no one would know that he was there.

As he prepared to turn back, a gentle yet firm voice grabbed him. It was the voice of a dignified lady.

"Hello there mister," she said.

Slowly, Zander turned his head.

"Care to join me?"