It was the day of the dinner and Slava drove us there. I was dressed to the nines, in my new black cloak with a matching dress, black heels and the right amount of makeup. He was dressed in a simple suit and he hadn’t even bothered to wear a tie.

  He kept making me laugh the entire drive there, and finally, the large building came into view. I felt a pit in my stomach the closer we got. The Colonel and Mother would be there. Would they rub the victory in my face? Would she even acknowledge it? Or am I.. was my contest beneath her notice?

  I pondered these questions as I walked arm-in-arm up the stairs with Slava. We were at the perfect time, not too early and not too late. There were lots of blessed around us, mingling and chatting. None of them took the steps. Tonight was for high-rankers only.

  As we finished ascending the steps, right before the entrance I spotted Calder. He stood aside, his eyes scanning everyone who walked through the doors like he was waiting for someone. He was smoothing his hair back, his hand tapping against his leg as he looked from one face to the next. And then his eyes found mine.

  A wide smile stretched across his face, and then he walked toward me with a playful look in his eye. And then he slowed, swallowing hard before stopping altogether. I rolled my eyes internally as I looked at Slava, his glare leveled at Calder like he hated every single thing about him.

  “Stop that, he’s one of my high rankers. Clearly, he has business to discuss.”

  Slava didn’t say anything for a moment.

  “That must be Warren’s boy.”

  He dragged his gaze away from him to look me in the eye, “I don’t like him.”

  His intensity threw me off, and I didn’t speak for a moment. It was almost unnerving how quiet he was, before he clapped his hands, gave me a kiss on the cheek and said, “I’ll see you inside. You will not be long.”

  Slava walked right past him, not sparing him another glance.

  Finding his spine, Calder walked up as soon as Slava walked through the doors. He kept smoothing his hair back, and he wasn’t looking me in the eye.

  “Hey, Sofia. He’s a little intimidating for my taste, hope you don’t mind me cornering you like this.”

  I raised an internal eyebrow at his forced casualness. “Hello, Calder. What do you wish to discuss?”

  A smile fell on his lips, filled with nerves and anticipation. “Uhm, just wanted to say you look really beautiful in that dress.”

  I stiffened at the compliment. It felt forced, and insincere.

  “Thank you,” I said politely.

  “You're welcome.”

  I continued standing there, waiting for him to get to the point.

  “Fuck this”, he muttered under his breath, before looking me right in the eye.

  “Look Sofia, I think you're kinda cool. Want to go on a date sometime before or after the tournament?”

  Perfect, I thought to myself. This is exactly what Kaleidos needed. I have been waiting for this since we were first blessed and I realized who would share the black cloak with me. I ignored the discomfort in my gut and gave him a smile, “That sounds lovely.”

  He breathed a huge sigh of relief, grinning all the while “Great! Great… uhm, walk you inside?”

  “Of course,” I said, holding out my hand.

  He held my hand with the grace of a gentleman as we stepped through the doors to my third favorite place within the tower.

  The ceiling arched high above us, with windows overlooking the entire first floor of the tower. Huge statues stood side by side, standing watch beside large paintings that covered the place wall to wall. They depicted the history of the tower, every major defeat, turning point or victory was laid bare here. Tales long since forgotten, yet forever preserved.

  Overlooking it all was the wall of fallen heroes. Pictures and long pages full of stories dotted the far wall, contributions of past soldiers, diplomats, artists… almost any position you can think of was there, plastered wherever there was space.

  This was my third favorite place because every achievement seemed small when compared to the man this hall was named after. This was where my father declared the end of the USSR. This was where my father had Nelson Mandela freed. The conquest of the seventh all the way to the tenth floor was planned here. And this was the place where I was conceived.

  I didn’t grasp the implication of that last bit when Mother first told me about this place as a child, but the realization had not diminished my love for it. Or… well, it hadn’t diminished it by much. Just made me look at my mother a bit differently.

  Every statue was pointed at the center of the room, with a long table that could seat every high ranker from even before the great loss. Now, if every high ranker from the highest floor to this floor were to be here, maybe only three-quarters of the table would be full.

  It was only about a third full now, and at its head sat Mother, her back straight, her eyes locked onto the entrance. She watched each guest that entered like a lion in search of its next meal.

  And across the long table, directly opposite her sat Slava, chatting happily with his subordinates. All of them were smiling, many of them seemed entranced as he spoke, every eye within earshot on him, like always. I saw he made my high-rankers sit next to him. They seemed as entranced as the rest.

  I parted ways with Calder, and we shared a smile as Mother glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, but she didn’t complain about the display of emotion as I sat next to her. I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief because neither the Colonel nor the idiot were here.

  “Good evening Mother, I hope you are well,” I said with a polite nod.

  “Yes, yes, good evening,” she said. She continued to watch the doors.

  I shouldn’t have distracted her, she seemed focused. The seat opposite me was empty, which I was happy about, although I wondered who would receive such an honor.

  I felt a polite pat on my shoulder, and I turned to see Warren giving me a warm smile, “Hi Sofia, hope you don’t mind if I sit next to you?”

  Slava did not like this man, but he had served Mother for a long time and had won us many victories. And he was Calder’s father.

  And yet… Whenever he spoke I could not help but feel the same way Slava did.

  “Of course,” I said, nodding politely.

  He sat, a playful smile on his lips as always, “Why thank you, hope my boy is behaving in your new brigade?”

  “Calder… has some rough edges, but I must admit that if he continues to follow through on his potential, he will be exceptionally useful. I am glad to have him under my command,” I said carefully, reaching for the wine.

  Mother smacked my hand, “No. You may drink after the tournament when you have earned your cloak the correct way.”

  “Of course, sorry mother.”

  Warren shifted uncomfortably, smoothing his hair back as he continued our conversation like Mother had not just publicly admonished me.

  “...Must I straighten those rough edges out? One conversation and he will be smooth as silk.”

  I finally looked at him, so much like his son except for the wrinkles and light flicks of grey in his hair. But his eyes… Those were Calder’s. They seemed empty. Like no smile had ever reached them.

  “On the one hand, that would make him easier to deal with perhaps. But he is the only front-line combatant of our year, so I think he needs some rough edges. They're almost charming, in their own way,” I said off-handedly, calling one of the many out-of-sight waiters over for water.

  He breathed a sigh of relief, “Good good. So, can I ask about…”

  I stopped listening as I saw a smile tug at Mother’s lips. My mood darkened, questions flooding my head as I followed her gaze, to see the Colonel standing by the door. And with him stood Boris, a disgusted look on his face as he gazed across this great place.

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  My mood darkened far further upon seeing them. And then I almost shattered the glass in my hand as Mother waved them over. Boris protested, but the Colonel just dragged him by his arm and made him sit down. The Colonel didn’t even glance at me as he sat next to him.

  “Do I have to sit here? I don’t think you’d like talking to me, Your Highness,” he said with a sneer. Once again I saw his cowardice because he had made it seem like he had asked me the question, rather than Mother. He couldn’t even meet her eyes.

  “You may call me ma’am if you wish to address me. And yes. You have to sit there,” she said offhandedly.

  Mother wasn’t looking at the entrance anymore.

  “Okay, ma'am,” he said mockingly. His mouth said one thing, but his darting eyes said another. I think I saw him look at the door fourteen times before he even realized I was here.

  Mother ignored him, standing up and tapping a spoon against her glass, every conversation dying within a fraction of a second as she looked down the length of the table.

  “I must give a warm welcome to our newest leaders. I have heard great things about each of you from my daughter. She has given even me high expectations of what you will accomplish. But I shall warn you that leadership is, by far, the most difficult position within the tower. Enjoy the festivities tonight, for when your training starts you must give everything you have to the mission. For if you make a mistake, it is not just your life that will be lost.”

  She paused, letting her words sink in as she gazed at each of my high rankers, not even bothering to look at the ones in the year above us. “However, this day is not all about the responsibilities you will face. Let it be known to those of you orphaned by the great loss, that you have my personal backing. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, come to me and you shall have it.”

  Mother’s speeches always took my breath away, even as a small part of my mind whispered with jealousy. Only Bongi and Boris did not have parents. And I guess Selena since her parents were rich civvies who lived in Goudstad, but that was more of a grey area.

  Her personal backing seemed like a kind gesture that would not be followed through on, one of those obligatory gestures leaders make to endear them to their subordinates… but she had never done this before.

  Perhaps she just wished to be more involved since it was my year, with my subordinates, and this was her way of looking out for me. Yes, that was it. It had nothing to do with the stupid thing sitting across from me.

  “Whenever I see you, you're giving speeches. I hope you realize these people aren't worth talking to,” Boris said with his usual sneer.

  Mother gave a half nod as if she secretly agreed before she reached forward and had a bite of bread to eat. Boris hesitantly reached forward, his eyes shifting from her to the bread like she was a bomb about to go off. When he picked up a piece, Mother didn’t react. He took this as permission to take the entire bread basket.

  “I must say subordinate,” I said, leaning back in my chair as I looked him up and down, “that I think even a rabbit has more of a spine than you do.”

  He waved a dismissive hand as he spoke with a mouth full of food, “Sticks and stones lady.”

  “Cat got your tongue now that my mother’s here? Where is your usual snark? Is it tucked behind your legs with your tail?”

  He sneered behind a loaf of bread, “I’ve got more than enough snark for you, but I shall save it for when we can have a private conversation.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I said, returning his sneer.

  His eyes stopped darting from every possible exit and locked onto mine. He didn’t stop eating. But he did stop blinking. Didn’t breathe a word, or even throw up a rude gesture. He just stared at me.

  I held his gaze for two seconds before my brain started screaming warning signs at me, and I tore my eyes away just in time to see Mother glancing disapprovingly between us.

  “Are you two finished? This is a public place.”

  I cringed internally, and when I looked down the table I saw many other high-rankers whispering among themselves while pointing at us.

  And then I saw Stoyan, glaring at the side of Boris’s head. Mother’s personal bodyguard was a powerful man, and he would not let the civvie lay a finger on me. I breathed a sigh of relief, the stare no longer as unnerving as it was earlier.

  “Are you excited for the tournament?” Warren asked, breaking the awkward silence.

  Boris glanced at him for a fraction of a second. And then his eyebrows scrunched, as he looked back toward the man. His eyes squinted at the man as if searching for something.

  “Extremely, I finally get to see what my high rankers are capable of in a live combat scenario,” I thought for a moment, then corrected myself, “I would have said except for Selena, but she has already shown what she is capable of under pressure.”

  The Colonel snorted, but he seemed to agree with me.

  Boris wasn’t eating anymore, his mouth hung open as he stared at Warren. Warren didn’t seem to care. “You are thinking tactically at such a young age? You are clearly your mother’s daughter. I wish Calder could learn a thing or two about tactics, but alas, he’s got my sense of adventure.”

  He sighed and shrugged, as if disappointed and prideful at the same time, “It will do him well in the tournament though, I think.”

  Warren glanced at Boris as I said, “I believe this ‘sense of adventure’ is what sets him apart, although I will need to ensure it is aimed in the right direction.”

  Warren nodded as if he agreed completely. His jaw twitched before he rolled his eyes and said, “Why are you looking at me, boy? What can I do for you?”

  Boris seemed even more offended by the question before his face went flat. Like he had been waiting a long time to say this. “When I was young, one of my kids got sick. I begged, I borrowed, I stole every medicine I could get my hands on. None of it mattered. He only got worse. One day a woman overheard me talking about his condition, and the next she was knocking on my door. She stayed with us for a week, nursing him back to health.”

  I think every single high-ranker within earshot was looking at Boris like a madman. Even Mother seemed concerned, studying his face closely as if trying to pry out every thought he'd ever had.

  Warren rolled his eyes, smiling like he’d heard something funny, “What a heartwarming story! Although I don’t see what that has to do with you staring at me?”

  “I watched you burn her alive, and then joke about it with one of your buddies.”

  Boris wore a brave face, but his eyes betrayed him. They were wide and glistening, like a man who had found his childhood nightmare. And Warren wasn’t smiling anymore.

  I felt like the entire table stilled at the revelation. I saw the Colonel look into his plate as if he had killed the girl himself. Mother stilled, her face growing sad as she looked at Boris with more pity than she had ever shown me.

  And for once, I was not jealous. He was a brute and a liar… but this… the way Warren was acting was more than enough proof of his guilt. He had done this. And the Colonel showed more guilt than he did at this moment.

  I didn’t want him sitting next to me anymore.

  Warren spoke after a long moment, every conversation within earshot long since grown dead, “...I see this bothers you?”

  Boris looked at him like he was an idiot, “I think even Sofia would be smart enough to know that. Yes, it bothers me you fucking demon.”

  Warren sighed, “I got rid of some rebels. I admit, it was not the most pleasant business, but it had to be done. They were far too dangerous to be left alive. Now that you are one of us, one day you might—”

  “I am not one of you!” Boris roared, banging his fist against the table as he stood. The Colonel put a hand on his shoulder, shoving Boris back into the chair. Boris looked at him hatefully, but the Colonel just shook his head sadly before turning back to his plate.

  The entire hall was silent now. I did not understand why Mother was just watching, rather than putting a stop to this madness.

  Warren sighed, looking more disappointed than irritated. “I see you are not grateful for winning the biggest lottery ticket in history. I don’t know why you aren’t more excited to be one of us.”

  Boris seethed, his reply barely above a whisper, “You people are monsters.”

  Warren’s voice grew annoyed like he was talking to a child. “If you hate it so much, why don’t you just kill yourself? Why keep going?”

  I was taken aback by the question. Who would say such a thing? I scooted my chair away from him, trying to make as little sound as possible.

  Boris was still staring at him. “Because I am going to kill you all first.”

  A smile appeared on Warren’s lips, growing wider and wider before he started laughing. The sound echoed throughout the room, the entire table glancing from him to Boris with a kind of morbid curiosity.

  “Wow, boy! I must say I have never seen someone as brave or as stupid as you. Really? Kill us all? Well then, go ahead! We’re all right here! Take a crack at it, why don’t you? Hell, if you're smart about it you might even make it off that chair!”

  Warren drummed his hands against the table as he egged him on, “Come on then! Why are you just sitting there? Hell, why don’t you try and kill the General herself? She’s right there! Oh! Why don’t you start with me? That’ll be fun! Oh, I know! You can…”

  Boris’s face was furious, I saw the veins sticking out his neck as his teeth almost cracked from how hard his jaw was locked. But then I saw the rage slowly leave his face, his hands unclenching as he leaned back in his chair. Warren kept talking, almost manic at this stage, before Boris held up a hand.

  Warren quietened, leaning forward against the table, contempt and anticipation written all over his face in equal measure.

  “I believe you have a son in our year, yes?” Boris asked politely.

  Warren’s large smile stiffened, his eyes narrowing to slits. Boris’s grin stretched ear to ear, and I could almost hear him relish Warren shifting in his seat.

  “Why not kill you all now? Why not kill the general? Simple. You can’t kill the devil. Hell, I might not even be able to kill you.”

  Boris leaned against the table as if ready to leap across it, that grotesque smile still stretching across his face.

  “But I can kill your son. And I can make you watch. And that might just be close enough.”

  No one reacted, no one moved. Boris, the smile still plastered on his face, rose as slowly as Warren did until they stood across from one another. Warren’s hand drifted towards his left shoulder, his face a mask of hate.

  “You will stop that hand if you know what is good for you,” Mother said, and instantly relief flooded through me. I did feel sorry for Boris, and what Warren did to him is horrifying, but his smile… I’m glad Mother stepped in. I didn’t want to see what would have happened if she hadn’t.

  Mother glared at Warren until he looked away, “My apologies everyone. It seems this dinner has not treated our guests of honor well. Please, continue with the celebration.”

  She turned to Warren, “And we need to have a private discussion.”

  She got out of her seat and left for the door, Warren cast a hateful glance at Boris as he followed after her. Boris gave him a wave.

  I thought through their conversation. At what Boris had said. And I realized that despite his cruelty and cowardice, he was a boy too, once. I decided to give him something I had never given anyone else before. A second chance.

  I waited until he was seated and dinner was in front of us, “Boris, look… I think I understand you more now, and I want to—”

  “Do you? Do you understand me a little better now? Let me help you with that,” he interrupted, stuffing his face full of pasta, “I am going to kill his son quickly, as a mercy. His son didn’t do anything to me, after all. But you?”

  He paused, shoveling more pasta into his mouth as his eyes locked onto me with a dead stare. “I hate you. And that strange fink at the end of the table has a wonderful ability, because it allows me to kill you slowly. And then, I get to do it again. Do you understand me completely now, girl?”

  I felt pure terror creep up my spine. He seemed almost bored, munching on the food in front of him.

  “You won’t even make it past the first match, civvie. You won’t make it past any of my high rankers,” I retorted, but my voice sounded weak even to me.

  Boris didn’t seem to notice, or care. He didn’t breathe a word. He just kept eating.

  And staring.