"Hey, is that your father?" Senec asked, suddenly changing the topic.

Startled, Slavian turned around. Senec was looking down into the warehouse through glass. Slavian crawled up next to him and looked in. Surely, what were the odds of his father being here of all places?

A white-haired man was escorted into the building by a couple of guards.

"Izthark?" Slavian gasped. What was he doing here?

Senec looked at him skeptically. "So not 'Father', then?"

"No, he's... a step-brother." Slavian answered. "Way before I was born. Adopted."

Senec kept the skeptic look. "He's the adopted one?"

Slavian nudged him hard enough to knock him down and they would have entered into a scuffle if a voice below didn't stop Slavian in his tracks and dump cold, stinging ocean water on all his veins.

----------------

Izthark entered the dim warehouse with his hands tied together at the wrist. Even in the brightness of the day the illumination was poor through stain glass windows on the ceiling. The building was a single massive room. The Numerenai might have thought it originally built for boat construction, brewing, or even ballroom dancing, but the material and construction was not proper. No, this place was built for mass storage from the beginning, and it fulfilled that purpose with rows upon rows of crates piled on wooden racks towards the walls leaving only a large opening leading from the center to the door.

The facility was full of men working, taking inventory, moving cargo, unloading from cargo vessels, or bringing it down for transport. Towards the center was a man coordinating the workers while sitting at a table painting on a nearby canvas.

Caius.

Caius looked up as Izthark approached with guards and said, "Now gentlemen, is this really the way to treat an honored guest? You stand in the presence of children to the god-emperor!"

Caius put down his painting supplies and rose to his feet to give a proper bow, with his right hand and fingers extended, revealing the tattoo'd markings of the Empire. Caius lifted his head and frowned, because the escort still kept Izthark under guard.

"My Lord, he came in armed." They explained. They presented Izthark's weapons and put them on the table including his bow machine, quiver of spear-arrows, his Bull knife, a belt with bombs hanging from it, two short blades, and a toothpick. Why did they take the toothpick, though? He had just eaten. Not like he knew how to use it for anything.

"Oh, wow!" Caius gasped at all of them. He grabbed the toothpick and flicked it at them. "What was he going to do, pick my teeth?! You failed to grab the most important thing: His ring!"

Izthark chuckled. "So you know about it?"

No point in hiding it. His ring had a curved point. Squeezing his fist together stabbed the ring into the flesh of his palm drawing blood. Immediately the blood drew from the tiny wound pooled in his palm and he formed it into a disc blade, cutting his binding and releasing himself. He reshaped the blood into a knife and pointed it at Caius' face. He didn't blink.

The others jumped in surprise and drew their weapons. The unsheathing of metal drew the attention of others and everything fell quiet as everyone looked to see what was happening, but before the guards did anything Caius motioned for them to stop. He explained, "If the Sleepless wanted us dead, we would already be dead. He's just here to talk." Caius breathed. "In fact, everyone out."

"My Lord-"

"I said, get out!" Caius repeated, losing his patience. He turned and looked at everyone around. "All of you."

There was concern painted on his men's face, whether for his well-being or the paycheck and job. Given a moment they began shuffling out until soon the building was empty save Izthark and Caius.

Izthark drew the tiny blood blade back into the cut and held it against a pocket handkerchief to stem the bleeding.

"You surprise me. Our power is a closely guarded secret, even from our own apprentices."

"My brother and I had a fascination with your guild and collected your rings. He gave them to me before he left. I understand you knew him? I'm sure it was an exhausting experience."

"I found his spontaneous sense of expectational utilitarianism self-destructive." Izthark admitted.

He looked around and noted the canvas Caius had been painting. The picture was of a crowd of people dancing in a gilded ballroom. In the background lifted high was a skeleton adorned in royal robes holding up a goblet to make a toast. Light beamed down on the crowd through the windows. The dancer's faces were blank and void, but where the light beams touched the skin of their faces peeled from their flesh, and beneath was a second face depicting fear, fury, disgust, guilt, and despair. The sources of light came from outside the windows of people hung on poles and lit as torches, where their faces were uplifted in joy and pride as they burned.

Caius watched his face closely, as if he might read Izthark's thoughts of his art. Caius smiled, asking, "So, what brings the Numerenai to my humble business?"

Ignoring him for a moment, Izthark smelled a faint metallic smell. One he recognized even here. He approached the canvas and breathed it in. It was nothing new for the wealthy to dabble in creative, expensive hobbies as painting, but Caius' red paint wasn't paint, it was blood. Blood in the canvas was a trademark of the Pain Artist.

The possibility of Caius having an alias as the Pain Artist fit surprisingly well. One disappeared at the same time the other appeared. Caius would know how to exploit his former kingdom to maximize his profits in the aftermath of the Empire's Subjuctation.

But then why would Caius buy up the very things he was selling? What was the purpose?

Izthark's eyes briefly widened under his band, but just as quickly he composed himself. The Pain Artist had transported Slavian to the Empire. Slavian had an objective, at the time, to assassinate the Emperor.

"My business is to know and report to the Emperor." Izthark said. "There are many things that trouble me, and if you value your life you will give answers unfiltered and true."

As he spoke, Izthark removed his eye-covering and directed his gaze into Caius' eyes. Caius's eyes widened in surprise, but then locked to his gaze in turn and couldn't look away. With Caius firmly under his spell, Izthark started.

Izthark demanded, "What have you been doing for the last year?"

"Forming a kingdom." Caius answered.

Izthark narrowed his eyes. This was serious. "There is no kingdom left to you. The Empire owns all of Dyson."

"There are many hidden kingdoms within the Empire, even if you cannot see them hidden in the cracks and refuse cast aside from the Empire. The Emperor told me 'he could use a king', and I have been following his will ever since. You may remove a king from his kingdom, but you cannot remove a kingdom from the king."

Izthark closed his eyes, releasing the trance, and Caius gasped for breath. Izthark hummed in thought. "So you're forming a clodius? You mean to organize criminals into something structured? To whose benefit? To you or, should I say, the Pain Artist?" Izthark opened his eyes again, but did not place Caius under a trance yet.

Caius, for his part, didn't bother to deny it. He smirked and shook his head in mirth. "Heh, so I'm found. Am I to be judged for doing as I am told? Again, I am under the employ of the Empire."

"You were told to be governor of your people!"

"And my people are here," Caius widened his arms outward. "With me. I have brought them to the glory to the Empire that they may join me in it."

"Do not test me with double tongues!" Izthark snapped.

"Then, please, what crime are you accusing me of?" Caius asked.

Izthark's first impulse was to tell him exactly what it was, but he stopped himself. Slavery was not a crime, nor was kidnapping, not when pertaining to Kes-Blood. The Emperor explicitly wished them humiliated and humbled for the genocide of the Mirrad-Blood. Caius was not smuggling, but was operating legally albeit by an alias. Gambling and running a gambling house was no crime either.

But there was one thing he could charge him with.

"How about regicide?" Izthark smirked confidentially.

This one caught Caius off guard and he paled. Izthark twisted the iris of his eyes and took Caius into a trance again. He would not give Caius a moment to collect himself.

"Why did you bring the Emperor's son here to kill him?" Izthark demanded.

A moment passed in silence. Izthark studied Caius for an answer, but rather than read a 'why' on him, he read a 'what' as in: 'what was he talking about?' Caius's jaw loosened and after a moment of processing what Izthark asked, even in his illusioned state, Caius could only ask, "The Emperor has a son?"

Caius did not know? Was he ignorant of Slavian and the boy's anger? This left Izthark with nothing really to charge Caius with, not without throwing the prince under the law as well. This was a mistake on his part, he realized. It was not his place to charge the young master with regicide, and against an immortal no less. The drama between father and son was not his place to intervene, despite his sister's misgivings.

Yet there was a pleasure in seeing the smug former king's mask slip for a moment.

"Oh?" Izthark taunted. "Didn't you know? No matter, it is hardly a secret. He will be announced soon and then you will have him to answer to as well." Izthark released him roughly, shoving him back into the table. The table scooted into the canvas and knocked it to the ground. Caius' attention snapped to his art and he grimaced to see it smear.

The paints mixed together and formed new colors that were common. But the color white stayed apart. It was not drawn to the others. It was holy, different, not found easily in nature.

Much like the Numerenai Guild's trademark hair, who were gifted the blood of the Aeterna.

"I will be watching." Izthark declared. He turned and left.

"Go ahead. You will see my hands are clean."

Xxxxx

"There is an Imperial prince?!" Senec gasped. "Have you heard anything about when this announcement is?"

Slavian scooted away from the opening. "No, no, no!" He whispered. "I shouldn't have come!"

"Why not? The white-haired man was cool! Is it true he is a Numerenai? Wait, does that mean you're a Numerenai too!"

"None of that matters!" Slavian said. "If he is the 'Pain Artist' then we are all in trouble!"

"You certainly are." Another voice said.

Slavian and Senec froze and looked up to see an armored soldier sitting back on his heels just above their heads leaning over and looking down at them. He had no weapon on his hip and his voice was light and gentle. Yet, startled, the boys backed away hastily. Slavian was the first to recover. He recognized the armor.

"Koj'Ineh?" He wondered.

"What are you doing here, your highness?" The Mirrad-Blood wondered.

Senec meanwhile bumped into a half-empty barrel. The container rolled on its base enough to topple over and crash into the ground. It broke open and released black powder across the ground.

"Careful with that!" The Mirrad-Blood told them. "Those goods are dangerous."

"Sorry!" Senec squealed.

"The better question is why are you here!" Slavian demanded. "That bastard has been the one taking and selling the slaves!"

Koj did not answer at first. He hesitated and could not find a ready answer available. Behind Senec there emitted a slightly orange glow. Suddenly alert, Koj dropped down beside them and looked over the edge.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to!" Senec whispered, slowly backing away from him.

When the barrel fell to the ground, it also knocked over a ward. The sun had turned to night and wards was necessary inside the city to keep the Night-Blood at bay. The fallen ward lit the grass on fire. Next to it was the black powder.

"RUN!" The Mirrad-Blood yelled loudly. He turned, grabbed Senec and Slavian in his arms, threw them up on his shoulders, and jumped off the edge of the building into the river.

Nearby, Aelius was fishing while leaning back against a tree. Hearing the cry, he stood and turned his ear towards it. "What?"

The black powder exploded, and in a moment the sky was lit as the warehouse erupted. The ground shook violently and smoke billowed into the sky. Out of the midst of it a tornado of fire rose, fueled by the contents of the building, and in the wind swayed to and fro. A heavy gust hit it and the pillar of flame crashed down into nearby buildings like an enraged kraken. Fire spread quickly until in minutes half of the immediate district was in flames.