The Charlatan

14. A Punic Faith

"I see that your mouth has remained just as quick to crack as your temper."

King Arc Jin stood against a backdrop consisting of just two members of his personal guard, in front of the group of escapees, who were frozen with shock, and he gestured towards Clara. Charlie gave her a pointed glance and elbowed her. With no one daring to speak up, the King continued.

"I was wondering why my staff in the east wing were not responding to my summons," he looked around the empty foyer, and his voice boomed in the open space, "But I suppose you made quick work of them-"

"I'm not a murderer," Clara interrupted, voice gravely low. The King paused, not used to being interrupted, but he recovered himself as Clara took a deep breath and continued, "And I am not the Charlatan."

The King peered at Clara's companions, before nodding to himself. He seemed to have made up his mind about something. Clara hoped that it was about her innocence, and that her party could be neatly excused and pardoned so that she could go home to the Living District and not have to worry about the Charlatan anymore. You cannot escape so easily, a voice whispered in her head. You said yourself that you would not run anymore. The real Charlatan is still at large, and the world is entering a war. The voice reminded her that it was her home country that was the aggressor. Her voice, not Safiya's, Priyanka's, Air's, or Honey's, is what mattered here. It was her responsibility as a citizen of the Citadel to condemn the actions of her ruler. The bystander was as bit the aggressor as the instigator. She could not afford to bear any more guilt than she already did.

"Indeed, it seems that you are amassing quite the army of believers." Clara couldn't tell if the King was being sardonic, but what was said next had an air of finality that made Clara believe that he was serious. "I am outnumbered and personally unarmed, courier, yet none of you have attacked me. Let me propose a deal."

Now I have my very own 'King's Deal.' How ironic. Clara remembered when she had last entered Velt, willingly that time, and had heard the city's excited whispers about the monumental accord that would profit them millions. That had been the beginning of it all.

"What do you propose?" Clara finally found her voice. Her question echoed through the grand foyer, along with the shuffling footsteps of her party as they fully crossed through the doorway. The door shut behind them, a breath of air ruffling Clara's hair against her neck.

"I propose," the King began, not moving from his position, "that you find the Charlatan and bring them to my court. If evidence finds itself on your side, I may be able to arrange your pardon."

Had she heard that right? Was the King admitting that what he did was wrong?

"What are your terms of restriction?" Air suddenly piped up, his thick Genesese accent harshly contrasting the King's singsong vernacular. Clara glanced at him. His usual playful troubadour attitude was suddenly absent, replaced by a wary and somewhat frightening intensity. The King raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised either by Air's commanding voice or by the party's relative civility.

"Ninety days," he said. Air looked to Clara, who looked back at the whole group.

"If I refuse?" Clara asked, still looking at her companions. She heard material shuffle as the King moved.

"The Citadel judges you," he answered.

Clara knew what that meant. The cityfolk would have her head before the trial started. She alone would bear the responsibility of having emptied the capital, the whole country, of its prized shining gold. If that even truly happened. Clara recalled her suspicions of the Charlatan's bluff. The King would announce her heinous crime, her deceit and disloyalty to the crown, and Charlie's word, any of their words, would be wasted on a public whose life's work had been devastated. Charlie met Clara's eyes, her apprehension clear. Clara immediately made her decision.

"I accept this deal," she said. I have Charlie to protect, she looked around at her blended party and her eyes twinkled, not to mention these fouled outlaws. She turned back around to face the King. He smiled, his grin not quite reaching his eyes, and he waved at the main doorway. Clara didn't need a second telling. She marched towards the front entrance and pushed the polished iron doors out. Charlie passed her to take the lead again, followed by Air, Safiya, and Honey carrying Priyanka. Clara looked back before letting the doors close behind them. The King remained where he stood, watching them go. His expression was unreadable.

Clara jogged to catch up to Charlie, and the group trampled the violet gardens that surrounded the jailhouse. The moon was beginning to set, and the building stood as an ominous shadow against it, threatening to carve up its light with its sharp corners. Air relayed the situation to Honey as the group trotted just off the main path towards the large sporting stadium that peeked over the horizon. They weren't leaving the Power District. Clara tapped Charlie's shoulder.

"We aren't heading back to the bar?" she asked. Charlie shook her head.

"With the entire royal guard and constabulary angrily camping outside it? Absolutely not. We cannot go by the main road until they clear."

"Hm," Clara made a noise of agreement. She turned her head to check on the rest of the group.

"It is strange that her ruler was so unaccompanied. This does not ring right. Furthermore, he banished her from the country, and now he's making her do his dirty work?" Honey was saying. "I knew Velt was corrupt." Air looked uncomfortable with the whole interaction, something Clara was not used to seeing.

"Says the Seer," he replied. His statement earned him a glare and defeated sigh. They both fell silent after that. A Seer? Clara knew of the people. They were the shamans of northern Genesis, and dedicated their energy to communicating with Spirits – the souls of the dead. Honey, with her tattered garb and affinity for burglary, did not suit the stereotype of the collected monks. However, as Clara looked closer, she saw the faint markings of their tattoos peeking out from under Honey's clothes. Her accent was also slightly different from Air's: still harsh, but almost nobler. Whatever her conduct now, she was unmistakeably an affiliate.

Priyanka and Safiya were keeping silent, no doubt overwhelmed by the events that had happened in the past few days. Clara decided not to dwell on her companions right now, when they were so hollowed and exhausted, and she turned back to Charlie.

"Where are we heading?" she asked. Charlie pursed her lips and ducked under the windows looking out of the research laboratory as they passed it. She turned her head to the right, indicating the direction she planned to go.

"The hydro plant," she stated.

"You want us to jump The Falls?!" Clara exclaimed as Charlie immediately hushed her.

"Ha!" Charlie laughed, "No, of course not. I mean to hide out in the building until sunrise, wouldn't want yeh dead after all that."

Clara let out a breath of relief and the group pushed forward. Soon, they could all hear the rushing water of The Falls as they spilled over the cliff on which the Citadel perched, and into the Polar Light River that stretched across the valley below. The whirling of the turbines inside the giant plant masked the group's footfalls as they snuck into the building through an open window. Clara hopped onto a raised platform and worked the lift to bring everyone up to the top. After they all clambered out, Clara kicked the operating switch, breaking the contraption to prevent any curious guards or workers from following their path. Honey finally set Priyanka down in a corner, Safiya closely hovering about her, before walking a few feet away to give the twins some space.

"We need a plan," Clara voiced to no one in particular. Air tiredly ambled over to lean on the metal railing beside her.

"We need rest," he said in Velte. Charlie nodded in agreement. Clara rubbed at her temple and sighed, cursing under her breath. "It would do us well to relax a bit more," Air added cheekily before finding a spot on the metal landing to sleep. Clara turned to Charlie.

"I really do owe you for all your help-"

"Rest first," Charlie cut her off with a raised hand, "You will fill me in when the sun is well up."

With that, Clara sat against the wall of the Citadel's hydroelectric plant and closed her eyes, listening to the rumbling of the water and the whirring of the turbines beneath her. Her dreams no longer filled her bank tab with gold, but instead filled her lungs with freezing water and her eyes with blazing embers.