7. The Meet
THE MEET
Seraphina
After check-in, we are lined up and marched off by Yuvi and his terrifying pet from the sparring yard to a room they call The Meet.
It’s not the biggest or most interesting of rooms, not when compared to the others we pass. It consists of stone walls, a stone floor, with picture windows facing Vulcaris’ grounds, the towering volcanoes and the mountains beyond.
A podium stretches wide along the back wall, a few feet high off the ground, not that Yuvi needs the extra height.
“The others will be here soon for the first brief,” he announces. “Just, I don’t know, talk among yourselves or whatever until then.”
With that, the room breaks out into nervous and excited chatter.
Despite the stifling anxiety every time I think too hard about being sardined in a room with what must be a minimum fifty bloodthirsty cambion, at least none of them are armed now.
I can breathe slightly easier knowing that registration is over with too.
It had gone well, all things considered. I’d held back in line, letting others go in front until the next pat down happened.
Thanks to the run in with Lilliana and the Tamer of Beasts, I’d lost count of the pattern. Diana had the misfortune of being frisked, and when she was done, I stepped up.
They’d asked my name first.
“Seraphina,” I told them truthfully.
“Surname?”
That had been more difficult.
Admitting I’m a Helvane would have been a death sentence.
They’d have known instantly that I’m a blood relative of the High Seraph, Yarriel Helvane, which would have no doubt led them to immediately suspecting me a spy.
And I don’t need first-hand experience to guess that owners of secret islands, raising secret mixed species armies, would not appreciate having a descendant of the most powerful and influential family in Virtus living in their midst.
No, I’d be in the dungeons right now, being tortured and interrogated. Or in two pieces on the ash back out in the Sparring Yard.
“Scarvo,” I’d told them instead. “Seraphina Scarvo.”
It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. It was my mother’s name, and it had been my surname for the first thirteen years of my life.
“Occupation?”
I’d considered my options for how to answer that one after I heard Az, Diana and Khali being asked the same first.
Az had told them he danced on tables for money, but Khali nudged him in the ribs, and he’d soon confessed to working the roulette table in The Rec, wherever that was.
The officer was familiar though and must have already known as much, because she’d completed the paperwork and called to the soldier behind her for ‘Ferrum, size 10M’ by the time Az came clean.
Khali had worked in The Rec too, but Diana was more complicated. And surprising.
She’d first told them she was an inmate at the Repentance Academy.
A strange word to use and something I will absolutely be asking her to explain when I get her alone.
But the officer shook her head and asked what she did before that.
Diana had hesitated, but eventually came clean, saying she’d been a Demonologists apprentice.
Without any option other than to bare faced lie, I’d been honest.
“I guess if I can’t be an inmate, I’m an Assassin.”
My heart was beating out of my chest, but I’d kept my voice as casual as possible. The moment the word Assassin left my lips, it earned a round of laughs from both the cadets surrounding me and those behind the desk, just as I’d hoped it would.
Let them underestimate me. It’s better than having a target on my back. Easier to blend in that way.
The woman at the desk hadn’t questioned any of it, just neatly scrawled my information down, looked me over briefly and asked a soldier to fetch her, ‘Ferrum. Size 4F.’
Diana was ‘Ferrum’ too, but in size 2F, Jack ‘Aes. Size 2M’ and Gabe and Micah, ‘Stannum,’ both size 2M. It was the smallest size they made according to the officer. “Once you’ve put some meat on your bones, you can always size up later. If you live long enough, of course.”
With only the clothes on my back, nothing was confiscated, and most importantly, I evaded being patted down so the journal is still a reassuring weight against my stomach.
She handed me the heavy ‘Ferrum size 4F’ pack over the table and said to wait with the others until one of the Overlord’s came to get us.
“How will we know it’s an Overlord?” Micah had asked, glancing over the horde of cambion filling the yard.
“Oh, you’ll know,” was all she said.
I’m pulled out of my own thoughts when the room falls silent and the doors to The Meet swing open.
Silver and Zaheer stride in, dripping with weapons as they jump up onto the podium with ease.
Silver gives Ravi a look that has the hounds tail dropping between her legs.
It makes me want to like Ravi more than I fear her.
They take their places beside Yuvi, and Silver clears his throat.
“For those of you who don’t know, my name is Silver Ardentis,” he begins.
“I am one of the commanders of the Iron Isle. This is Overlord Yuvi,” he nods to his left.
“And Overlord Zaheer.” He does the same to his right.
“We are here to prepare you for the seven games that stand between the version of you here in this room with us now, and a version worthy of being soldiers in the Iron Choir, the most elite and noble military in Trutina.”
I frown. Surely he means Scelus, not all of Trutina. Or does he truly believe this Iron Choir to be more elite and noble than Virtus’s Legion of Light? I swallow my scoff.
“Though we will oversee most of your training,” Zaheer takes over. “Don’t expect us to wipe your ass for ya. Outside of the training halls and sparring yard, you’re on ya own.”
Nods follow his words, while several of the cadets around me straighten, puffing out their chests.
“Let’s get the ground rules out of the way,” Yuvi says.
“You have to be in the training hall allocated to your Company by six o’clock every morning.
The Mess is open from five. Don’t ever skip breakfast for a lie in.
” He looks up, arching an eyebrow at us.
“Seriously. You’ll be no good to us or your unit with an empty stomach and no energy.
Training takes place every day from six until noon.
After lunch, you have R&R, Recovery and Research.
Use this time wisely, it could save your life in the games.
From four to six, it’s the sparring yard.
You won’t be selected to enter the Triad every day, but your presence at ringside is non-negotiable.
Always be ready. You’ll have practice matches against cadets in your Company first, and your Overlord will put forward a champion at the end of each day to compete in the ring against the champions selected from the other two Companies. ”
“Rules of the Triad are simple,” Silver says. “Three go in, one winner comes out. This will determine your unit's rank.”
“Speaking of,” Zaheer takes a step forward. “You were all issued a pack at check in. Inside you will find your uniform and training gear—”
Lilliana’s hand shoots up. “Excuse me.” All eyes in the room go to her, but if it bothers her at all, she doesn’t show it.
The Overlord’s are frowning down at her, clearly unimpressed. Not used to being interrupted during their well-rehearsed speech I guess.
“What did you do?” Yuvi eventually asks. “Fucking sneeze?”
“No,” Lilliana says, confusion knitting her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “I was wondering when we will get our own clothes back, you know, like for down time?”
“You don’t.” All three Overlords say at once, voices flat with barely contained annoyance.
“But, like, when we aren’t doing any of that serious stuff in uniform and training gear, what do we wear? I’ve packed outfits.”
The Overlord’s share a look as if to say, is this girl serious? I pray to the angels to let the ground open up and swallow the demoness down into the pits of Hell. First impressions of Lilliana aside, the secondhand embarrassment is overwhelming, no matter how much I already dislike her.
Not bothering to answer her question, Silver gives her a flat look. “Are you done?”
Lilliana nods, but she looks like she might cry. Or have a tantrum.
“I’d offer her a tissue,” Khali mumbles to Az beside me. “But I fear she might make it into another outfit.”
Diana overhears too, because we both glance over the thin strips of material covering almost none of Lilliana, and I can’t help but snort. If Khali wasn’t a demon, I might actually want to be her friend.
Zaheer shakes his head. “Enough. When we are talking, you listen. As I was saying, you were all issued a backpack at check in. Inside you will find your uniform, nightwear and training gear.” His eyes pin Lilliana in her place.
“You will wear this moving forward. Always. Burn the clothes on your backs for all I care. That’s exactly what we will be doing with the luggage and weapons you bought with you. ”
The energy in the air changes.
The cadets are not happy about it, but wisely, keep their mouths shut. Even Lilliana, who lets out a squeak, manages to stay otherwise silent.
My hand goes to my stomach, grateful I didn’t have any luggage to hide it in.
“You will find the name of the Company you have been assigned to stitched onto everything. Aes will report to me, Stannum to Overlord Yuvi, and Ferrum…” he turns to Silver. “Well, they’re all yours, Overlord Silver.” He gives his colleague a look, like something’s funny. An inside joke maybe.
Silver’s eyes flash to mine.
Then it dawns on me.
‘Ferrum size 4F.’
The realization makes me nauseous. The idea that any of these men are in charge of overseeing my training or survival is bad enough, but the fact that it’s him makes it seem even worse. If I had to pick, I’d choose Yuvi. Then the horned Zaheer. But him…
Had the Overlord’s made a bargain? Silver gets Khali and Az so long as he takes me? Am I being paranoid, or is that why he told me I’m making a mistake? Does he think he can convince me to quit to save having me drag his team down?
Then prove him wrong about you, Seraphina.
The thought is like a flame to that spark inside me.
Except, I can’t.
My plan for right now is simple: Blend in.
Sure, I confessed to being an assassin, but nobody bought it. The only thing that will make living among a species of evil I despise more than anything or anyone worthwhile, will be if I succeed in getting information on the Seven Sisters. Better yet, get close enough to take them out.
One of them will do. An eye for an eye.
A new plan forms in my mind.
First, help the nephilim.
Second, kill the Sisters.
Third, which is a very long shot on account of me most likely being dead before then, prove Silver wrong.
Yuvi steps forward. “You are free to entertain yourselves after six. The Rec is a favorite, but so long as you don’t leave the grounds of Vulcaris, have at it.”
The order to not leave Vulcaris is what I’d expected, familiar even. At home, I’m not allowed to leave the walls of my turret. It’s the phrase “have at it” that makes me nervous. Like he’s challenging the room of sinners to do their worst.
“Each Company is assigned their own dorms,” Yuvi goes on.
“Please refrain from slitting anyone’s throat while they sleep.
Off’ing some hot shot from your unit or another might feel like a good idea when your Company is ranking in last place, but it’s stupid and a waste of someone who could have been good to have at your six in the Iron Choir. ”
Zaheer clears his throat. “What Overlord Yuvi is trying to say is that we have a no killing rule outside of the games. And even then, killing another cadet should be a last resort.”
The nephilim pale, as well as a few cambion around me.
What in the fiery pits of Hell happens in these games for that to ever be something to resort to?
Unless it’s a fight to the death, in which case, what’s the point in having the rule?
“Break the rule,” Silver cracks his knuckles. “And you will be sharing a funeral with your victim. That’s a fucking promise. Understood?”
A chorus of affirmatives ring out.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Understood.”
“Roger.”
“Yes, Overlord.”
“No slitting throats.”
It should make me feel better, but it absolutely does not. I will be sleeping fully dressed and with both eyes open while under Vulcaris’ roof.
“Good.” Yuvi says. “Though the dorms are separate, the latrine’s, bathhouses and The Rec are communal.
All of which you can find on Vulcaris’ West wing.
If you get lost, find the Sparring Yard and work it out from there.
It’s that big open space in the middle you just left.
The Infirmary, Records and Strat rooms are to the North, our office is Northeast. We passed it on the way here, though make sure you knock on the door first. You never know what you might walk into. ”
He winks suggestively at Silver, who shakes his head.
“On this side, the East wing, you will find the Library and the Mess Hall. Do not go into the kitchen unless given permission by your Overlord. The chefs do not care much for cadets getting under their feet and they have lots of sharp knives to make their feelings known.”
“Same rule applies for the armory,” Zaheer adds. “You will sign out what you take with your Overlord present and sign it back in at the end of training that day.”
“And under no circumstances,” Yuvi says, back to looking serious, “is anyone to use the East wing stairwell. Aes and Stannum Company, your dorms are upstairs but can only be accessed using the stairwells on the West wing. Do not let us find you using any other route to get there. There are no other routes, no shortcuts, and there are absolutely no excuses that will be acceptable if you are found using the wrong one. Got it?”
More nods and mutters echo around the room.
Living accommodation to the left of the Sparring Yard.
Potential research treasure troves of records and the infirmary behind it.
Books and food this way.
And being in Ferrum Company, no stairs for me.
Not until you’ve done your research and succeeded in blending in.
Got it.