Pagopoi 18, Imperial Year 1643
The City of Stonebridge, Southern Mercia
The city of Stonebridge was known for its markets, its bridges, and its traveling performers. In the winter months, when the roads were treacherous, the performers came indoors – to the great hall of the Merchant's Guild, where they charged a silver coin for admission and promised wonders.
Reinhard von Falkenrath had insisted on a day off.
"You have been searching for months," he said to Elara, as they walked through the snowy streets. "You need rest. Your minds need rest. One day will not cost you the trail."
Elara wanted to argue, but Roderick had grunted in agreement, and Rosalind had already bought tickets. So she had relented.
The great hall was crowded. Rows of wooden benches faced a raised stage, lit by oil lamps and colored glass. Merchants sat with their families. Guards stood at the walls, their spears grounded, their eyes wandering. At the front, a fat man in a velvet coat – the circus master – welcomed the audience with a sweeping bow.
"Welcome, welcome to the Grand Spectacle of Wonders! You will see jugglers, acrobats, fire‑eaters, and beasts from the southern jungles! But first, a word from our sponsor – the Guild of Stonebridge, without whom this evening would not be possible!"
The audience applauded. The class sat near the middle, bundled in their cloaks. Reinhard was relaxed, his arm along the back of the bench. Miku bounced in her seat. Hikari prayed silently. Kaito examined the stage with an engineer's eye.
Elara could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.
The performance began. Jugglers tossed flaming torches. Acrobats flipped through hoops. A fire‑eater swallowed flames and belched smoke. The crowd cheered.
But Elara noticed the circus master. He stood in the wings, watching the performers not with pride, but with calculation. His eyes moved from face to face in the audience, lingering on the young women, the children, the wealthy merchants.
He is looking for someone, Elara thought. Or looking for something to take.
She nudged Roderick. "Watch the fat man."
Roderick's red eyes followed hers. "I see him."
The performance continued. A woman in a shimmering dress danced with a snake wrapped around her arms. A dwarf juggled axes. A boy no older than twelve balanced on a rolling barrel.
Then the circus master stepped onto the stage.
"And now, my friends, a special treat! A performer from the eastern deserts, a man who can make himself vanish into thin air! Give a warm welcome to… the Ghost of Valdria!"
The audience applauded. The stage lights dimmed.
Nothing happened.
The circus master frowned. "Perhaps he is shy. Let us try again. The Ghost of Valdria!"
Still nothing.
The circus master's smile tightened. He turned to the wings and hissed something to a stagehand. The stagehand shrugged.
Elara's unease grew.
Then the lights went out.
Not dimmed – extinguished, all at once, as if a giant hand had snuffed every lamp. The great hall plunged into darkness. The audience gasped. Children cried. Someone shouted for the guards.
A single voice cut through the noise – old, resonant, sharp as a blade.
"Thou hast sold children into bondage. Thou hast taken the innocent and made them perform for thy profit. Thou hast beaten the weak and called it discipline."
The circus master's voice, trembling: "Who is there? Guards! Light the lamps!"
"I am not mercy. I am justice. And thy reckoning is at hand."
A spark. A flicker. Then a single lamp flared to life, illuminating the stage.
The circus master stood frozen, his face pale, his mouth open. Behind him, a figure had materialized from the darkness – tall, dressed in black, with a beaked mask and a long hat. His coat was midnight blue. His boots were thigh‑high. His gloves reached his elbows, the knuckles and sides reinforced with steel.
In his hands, a spear – a guard's spear, stolen from the wall.
The Raven drove the spear through the circus master's back.
The blade pierced flesh, ribs, organs. It emerged from the man's chest, slick and red, dripping onto the stage. The circus master's eyes went wide. He opened his mouth to scream, but only blood came out.
The Raven twisted the spear. The circus master's body convulsed, then went limp.
The Raven withdrew the spear. The body crumpled to the stage.
He turned to the audience. The lamp caught his mask – the beaked face, the dark lenses, the hollow eyes.
"This man was a monster," he said. "He sold children. He murdered those who resisted. His death is justice, not murder. Let his fate be a warning to all who prey upon the weak."
He dropped the spear. It clattered on the wooden stage.
Then, as the guards rushed forward, the Raven raised a hand. Darkness swirled around him – not shadow, but magic, thick and cold. He vanished.
The lamps flared back to life. The great hall was bright again.
The circus master lay dead on the stage, his blood pooling on the boards.
The audience erupted. Some screamed. Some fled. Some knelt and prayed. The guards formed a cordon around the stage, their spears shaking.
Elara sat frozen, her heart pounding.
"Did you see that?" Miku whispered.
"I saw," Roderick said.
"He appeared from nowhere," Kaito said. "Magic. He used magic to turn invisible."
"And he spoke in that old tongue again," Hikari said. "The same words the pilgrims described. 'I am not mercy. I am justice.'"
Reinhard's face was pale. "He killed a man in cold blood."
"He killed a monster," Roderick said. "Did you hear what he said? Selling children. Beating the weak."
"That does not give him the right to be judge, jury, and executioner," Reinhard said.
"Who else will do it?" Roderick stood. "The guards? The nobles? They are the ones who buy the children."
The class fell silent. Around them, the great hall descended into chaos – guards shouting, merchants weeping, children crying.
Elara looked at the stage. The circus master's body had been covered with a cloth. The blood was still spreading.
The Raven, she thought. He was right there. We could have reached out. We could have spoken to him.
But he was gone.
And she did not know if she would ever see him again.
That night, they returned to their inn. Reinhard sat by the fire, staring into the flames. The others were quiet, each lost in their own thoughts.
"We should leave Stonebridge," Rosalind said. "The city will be locked down after this. Guards will question everyone."
"Agreed," Reinhard said. "At dawn."
Elara looked at him. "Sensei. Do you still think we should have taken a day off?"
Reinhard sighed. "I wanted you to rest. I did not expect to witness an assassination."
"No one expects an assassination," Roderick said. "That is why they work."
Elara stood. "I am going for a walk."
"Alone?" Rosalind asked.
"I will not go far."
She left the inn and walked into the cold night. The streets of Stonebridge were empty – everyone was indoors, frightened, hiding.
She walked to the great hall. It was cordoned off, guarded by soldiers. She stood across the street, watching.
Where are you, Raven? she asked the darkness. Are you watching us? Do you know who we are?
No answer came.
But she felt something – a presence, a weight, as if someone were standing behind her.
She turned.
No one was there.
She walked back to the inn, her heart pounding, and did not sleep until dawn.
End of Chapter Thirteen