Media: Ales if he wore modern clothes. If you want more TVC pins, do head to my profile and check out my pinterest board!

Music of the chapter: Farewell to Earth by Audiomachine

The journey to the Hall of Games was a long one. Cadence counted three days which mostly comprised of them sitting in silence, stopping at inns for food and bed, Ales stretching his limbs from time to time, and then back onto the road.

Today was no different. Cadence snuggled under Ales' cloak next to her brother. Ales was a large man; his cloak able to fit two people Cadence's size. Her brother coughed and hugged his chest, not wanting to let heat escape from the cloak.

Cadence could hardly keep her eyes open, yet she couldn't bring herself to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, her father's headless corpse would crawl toward her, leaving a blood trail in the snow. To the side, the severed head rolled, crying murder at the top of its voice. She shuddered.

"There are several things you need to know before you step foot into the Hall of Games," Ales said.

"Like what?" Cadence had trouble stopping her teeth from chattering even with the cloak on. She wondered how Ales managed to keep himself warm even without his coat. The man looked as though he was sitting next to a toasty fireplace.

"Rules and regulations. Manners and principles," he said. "Tell me, what do you know about the Hall of Games?"

"It's the capital," she replied. "The heart of Moskava, mother Hall to the other five Halls."

Cadence had learned it all. The Hall of Games was the focal point of the nation. There were six Regions in Moskava, each Region had a ruling Hall, divided according to their segregated Affinities—the Hall of Warriors, the Hall of Spirits, the Hall of Elements, the Hall of Harmony and finally, the Hall of Shadows, but it was destroyed many years ago. Every Hall was led by a High Priest or Priestess, nobles of powerful Houses who passed down the title from one generation to another, people like Khazaria's family.

"Yes." Ales nodded. "You and your brother will stay in segregated camps. The Right Order is for Varya, the Left Order is for Murka. Both of you will share some similar classes, but most of the time, you will spend your training separately."

"Will I still get to see him?" Cadence asked.

"Definitely," Ales replied. "There are certain days where soldiers were granted permission to return to their families for an allocated amount of time, especially during important festivals. You can see your brother then."

Cadence didn't like the sound of the Left Order. What would they train a Murka to do? Murka lives did not matter. After all, they were just pawns. She looked at her brother, trying to decipher his thoughts.

At least one of use would be treated kindly in the Hall of Games. Cole deserves an encouraging environment. It wasn't his fault that we're traveling in this very carriage, accompanied by a Kesatria and a Mujarab.

Ales faced Cole. "In the Right Order, you will be trained by the elite unit. As Varya, you are required to train for one year at the Hall of Games before we transfer you to your Hall of Affinity. What type of Varya are you?"

His hand went to his Hajmali. "Warrior."

"So you will be sent to the Hall of Warriors to complete your training. The most elite of our soldiers come from the Hall of Warriors itself."

"How long do I have to be there?" Cole said.

"Four years. Then, you will be transferred back into the Hall of Games and officially declared as a Kesatria."

"What about my sister?"

"She'll spend six years training in the Hall of Games before moving into the official Left Order. After that, she can choose to leave the Hall to serve as a Guard at a House mansion if she wishes, or she can remain in the army."

I will be a soldier for the rest of my life. Cadence closed her eyes. Even with her eyelids shut, she could still see little bursts of lights in the darkness. Her father had served in the Great War, a two-year long civil war between the Hall of Spirits and the Hall of Shadows, stemmed from a feud between two Houses which happened to rule both Regions. He had fought on the winner's side before he finally settled down quietly in the Region of Elements. Sometimes, after her father had returned from work, he would gaze at the ceiling with a faraway expression. He wouldn't move, but he would whisper softly to himself.

Cole said it was stress, but Cadence knew it was the aftereffects of the Great War. Nobody could come back unscathed from an event where people were forced to slaughter each other.

Cadence wiped the window with a hand. Frost had covered the glass, shielding the outside view. Squinting, she saw the carriage pull toward a massive stone wall. Her jaw dropped.

It was easily over five hundred feet tall, trailing its outflung arms across the ground. From her limited view, she couldn't tell where it started or ended if not for the massive steel gates.

She couldn't imagine the amount of magic, time, and labor required to build this titanic structure. The glimmering gates were made from Celestium, the rarest metal in the entire world, found only in selected, dangerous areas. Her own father mined Celestium. They came in small amounts—little beads lodged within cracks of stones that must be extracted by hand. Its rarity turned the nobles into crazed, Celestium-hoarding beasts who would kill to own the stocks.

Two guard towers flanked the gates, built from stone, steel, and wood, reaching as high as the wall itself and ended in pointed turrets. The Moskavan flag flapped in the fierce winter breeze, making the silver two-headed phoenix on the flag spread its wings and soar in the air. Kesatria waved at the carriage to pass.

"Impressive isn't it?" Ales smiled, unable to hide a hint of pride. "The Great Wall was built by the Fourth Founder herself. She was ambitious, made it five hundred and fifty feet tall, spanning the incredible length of six hundred feet so that it encompasses the entire Region of Games. Thousands of years ago when Kazimir rebelled against the rest of the Founders, every Founder did what they could to protect the Hall of Games. The wall stopped Kazimir's undead army from swarming the city. Not even the undead can defeat the howling winds on top of the wall. It has kept the Region of Games safe for the past thousand years, and it will continue to protect it for the next thousand years."

Cole didn't say a word even as the carriage pulled past the gates and rolled into the Region of Games. Cadence's cheeks were beginning to burn from pressing against the glass for too long, but she couldn't drag herself away from it.

She had dreams of going up north. There were all kinds of tales about the grand buildings, the curved gold roofs of the Mansions, and the iridescent glide of the clock towers. Now here she was, taking in the Region of Games with her own eyes.

Moskava was a nation of brilliant colors, tassels, and tapestries. Fat, red lanterns hung from various poles crisscrossing the city. Little triangular flags danced as they dangled from the roofs. People wrapped heavily in fur coats walked about. Smoke rose from the chimneys, a few men shoveled snow from their front doors.

Cadence strained to find some familiarity, but it was nothing like the marketplace in Azrapol. This was more sophisticated—gilded store signs, neat rows of houses, intact roofs, bursts of Moskavan colors, and impeccable cleanliness. There were no carts crowding the streets, or people haggling over the price of beets. Towers rose like jagged shards against the white, snowy skies, heralding either the flag of Moskava or House sigils. Bell towers tolled, snow-doves gave them the beady eye before fluttering to perch on frozen laundry lines. She couldn't even see a single stray chicken.

It was Cole's turn to look out of the window. "Why is everything so clean? Where are the beggars?"

Ales crossed his arms. "The Region of Games is well maintained. In addition to that, it is winter. I assure you when the festivities come, this place will the heart of vigor and celebration."

Well-maintained. An unfriendly hand squeezed Cadence's heart. To you nobles, beggars are nothing more than dirty items that can be thrown out.

The carriage jerked to a sudden halt, causing Ales to bump his head against the roof.

"Why are we stopping?" He opened the carriage door, letting in a blast of freezing air. "We're close to the Hall of Games!"

Kashimi appeared at the door, wrapped so thickly in furs, only the beak of his mask was visible. "It's deathly cold, Ales. I require some pick me up before we enter the Hall."

"Well, I did volunteer to drive."

Kashimi clearly wasn't amused. "Whatever. Get the children inside. They look like icicles."

Slowly, Cadence eased off the carriage. Her legs felt like lumps of lead and would have stumbled off the steps if Cole hadn't caught her arm in time.

"Why a tavern?" Ales said beseechingly. "There are about a hundred other places we could go to. How about the steak shack?"

Kashimi patted his stomach. "Steak won't warm you, but a good tankard of beer would."

Ales looked scandalized, but he followed his partner into the tavern. "You ruin all Mujarabs' reputation, you know that?"

Kashimi laughed. "It's an honor." He leaned against the door and pushed it open.

Cadence clung onto her brother. The tavern stank of inebriety, sweat, and smoke, packed with fur-clad people of all shape and sizes. A foul, lingering smell of urine stained the atmosphere. She could see the disgust in Ales' face, for the Kesatria crinkled his nose while the Mujarab remained unfazed by the smell.

The tavern mostly comprised of commoners. There was one Kesatria inside, but he sat at the very corner, reading a leather bound book. Cadence dodged as a burly man swung a tankard across her head which met with a clank with another tankard.

"Kashimi." Ales stood out like a rod, given his height, even more so with his runed Kesatria robes and his mask. "For Dewas' sake, give the children some time to catch up."

"They have you, don't they?" He called back. Cadence could no longer see him in the crowd. "I'll be right back."

"What happened to 'I'll never drink again?'" Ales shouted after him. "You're a lying bastard, you know that?"

Garnering no response from Kashimi, Ales pulled at his hair. "Come on." He ushered them toward a rickety table. Cadence shrunk deeper into Ales' coat. "I'll get you two something to drink. Don't wander off."

The Mujarab disappeared into the sea of people. Someone was singing a very out of tune 'Hail the Dewas' while another strummed a kitar. Their terrible singing and haphazard clapping grated Cadence's nerves. She slumped onto the table, burying her face in her arms.

Cole squeezed Cadence's shoulder. "Hey, are you alright?"

Cadence must look a sight, she was certain of it. Crying had left her with puffy, red eyes, and the lack of sleep brought out dark circles. She raised her head. "I think I should be the one asking you that question."

"I don't know what to feel." Her brother plucked his rope bracelet. "Frosts, I don't know how am I supposed to react."

"I'm sorry." The words choked Cadence like poison.

"Don't be sorry." There was a shrillness to her brother's voice. He held his hands in tight, trembling fists as he stared at the door. "It's my fault. I'm Varya, I should have protected you and Papa. When the Rakasha attacked, I bloody fainted."

He banged his fist on the table, gritting his teeth so he wouldn't bellow.

"Cole." Cadence grabbed his hand. "It's alright. There was nothing you could've done."

She was right. What could he have done? Transform into a moth and try to take down a creature born of the most violent origin?

Her brother hung his head, just as Ales returned with two steaming tankards.

"I got you two some mead." He set the tankards onto the table. "I assumed you don't drink beer. I don't understand why Kashimi likes beer, he drinks it by the gallons. It's so bitter, it makes my grandmother's tongue sweet by comparison."

"We never had the privilege." Cole dragged the tankard toward him with more force than necessary, spilling some of the yellow colored liquid over the front of his shirt.

Cadence brought the overlarge tankard to her lips and took a tentative sip. It smelt and tasted like honey, but it sizzled on her tongue and burned all the way down her throat, warming her up instantly.

"Whoa!" she said.

Ales chuckled. "That's the expression. Mead warms you up pretty fast, a great drink to have during the winter."

"Unless you're poor." Cole pushed his tankard away.

Ales' expression changed from happy to slightly exasperated. "You don't have to bring this up every time I try to make conversation."

"It's the truth!" Cole threw out his arms, gesturing at everyone in the tavern. "Look at this place. The gates are Celestium, that bloody metal almost as expensive as the entire Region of Elements combined. Look at the well-maintained streets, the houses, the fancy taverns, and hell, good mead. If I wasn't Varya, I wouldn't be sitting here drinking this stuff with you. I would be next to my dead father, trying to decide what to do with the rest of my life. None of this-" He waved his hands at himself. "-would matter if I didn't have Varya blood!"

"I did not make the rules," Ales said. "I am a Kesatria. I follow them."

"Rules are made to be broken." Cole leaned across the table, glaring at Ales, eye to eye. "You didn't have to take us in. You could have let my sister and I go."

For the first time since they have met, Ales looked conflicted. His eyes were wide, as if Cole had suggested that he eat dirt, or something similarly disgusting. "You know I can't. That's...that's against the Law. I will be penalized."

"They won't know," Cole pressed on. "What they don't know."

Ales sat back on his bench, shoulders hunched. "It's a little too late for that, don't you think?"

"If-" Cole said angrily. "-you had a little sister, and you were taken away to join some stupid army that guarantees your death, how would you feel?

"Cole." Cadence held him back by the shirt. "I'm going with you. Don't shout at Ales."

"How would you feel," Cole enunciated every word through gritted teeth, ignoring Cadence. "If they tore your family from you?"

"If my family was torn from me," Ales' voice was dangerously soft. "I would pray they would not remember me. Better forget than to pain over a lost cause."

"Cole!" Cadence hissed. "Sit down!"

Kashimi appeared and placed two bottles of beers onto their shaky table, oblivious of the situation. "We can hit the road now. I've got the beer."

Ales leaped to his feet. "I'll drive."

"You bloody well will not," Kashimi said. "I'm the driver, we agreed on that."

"Yes," Ales said scathingly. "When you were sober. Now let's get the hell out of this place." With that, he stormed out of the tavern, slamming the door behind him.

"You two need to teach me how to get under his skin in less than five minutes." Kashimi glanced at the door in wonder. "I've known him for years. He's like a saint, hardly ever gets mad, and now he'd gone and slammed a door! It's the number one rule in the Kesatria if you didn't know. Ales Sanrovo never slams doors."

Kashimi entered the carriage before Cadence and Cole could. Cadence sneaked a glance at Ales from under her lashes, pretending to be busy kicking the snow off her shoes. The man sat as still as a statue in the front seat, grasping the reins tightly, face angled toward the road.

"Well?" Kashimi said.

Cadence held the rails of the carriage and climbed in.

"You didn't have to yell," Cadence whispered to Cole. "It's not his fault."

"Right." Cole dropped Cadence's hand. "It's ours for pissing off a Kesatria."

The carriage jolted into motion. Ales drove much faster than Kashimi, causing the carriage to shake like jelly as it tore down the road.

"That's not what I meant. I-"

She let the situation drop. It was neither Cole nor Ales' fault. Ales didn't set off a Polong, Cole didn't ask to be towed into the Hall of Games. Cadence touched her rope bracelet, wondering if the Dewas were watching her at this moment, or maybe her father was, gazing at them from the rose fields of Syurka.

Watch over Cole, will you, Papa? she pleaded. I dragged him into this. Please do whatever that is in your powers and protect him from further harm. He had suffered enough, and it was all because of me. A bastard in a noble's world will be hard for him.

If her father heard her, she would never know. She hoped that she would receive a sign—an abnormally heavy snowfall, a shooting star, a tree catching fire or a feather, anything that would tell her that Papa was listening, but she was only accompanied by the uncomfortable silence that lasted even when the Hall of Games raced into sight.