Chapter 12 – The King's Court of Flies
The inside of Silas's home was warmer than the grave, but only just.
The air smelled of dried sage and old velvet. Shelves lined the walls, filled not with books, but with jars. Inside each jar, a faint, pale mist swirled—memories, Uzo realized. Or perhaps last breaths.
Silas poured tea into three porcelain cups. The liquid was dark purple.
"Drink," Silas said, sliding a cup toward Ronnie. "It's elderberry and grave-moss. Good for the nerves. Bad for the soul."
Ronnie stared at the cup suspiciously but took a sip. Her hands were still shaking from the cold.
Uzo remained standing, the Lexicon heavy in his pocket.
"You said King Lazarus issued a decree."
Silas took a long, slow sip of his tea, his silver rings clinking against the china.
"Lazarus isn't just a King, boy. He is the Head of the House of Light. He believes that anything he cannot see, cannot control, or cannot name is a stain on his perfect kingdom."
Silas reached into his robe and pulled out a scroll. It wasn't parchment; it was skin—pale and cured. He tossed it onto the table.
"Read it."
Uzo unfolded the scroll. The letters burned with a golden authority.
THE EDICT OF SILENCE:
By Order of the Throne and the Eleven Houses.
The entity known as The Nameless One is a corruption of the Sacred Word.
Any citizen found harboring him will have their True Name stripped.
Any House found aiding him will be dissolved.
The Hunt is no longer limited to the Arbiters.
The House of Clown has been sanctioned to join the pursuit.
Ronnie choked on her tea. "The House of Clown? Is that a joke?"
Silas stopped smiling. His face went deadly serious, the shadows in the room seeming to lengthen.
"You think it's funny?" Silas whispered. "The House of Brute breaks your bones. The House of Judgement stops your heart. But the House of Clown..."
He leaned forward.
"They break your mind. They are the madness in the ink. They don't follow the laws of war, and they don't care about collateral damage.
If Lazarus has unleashed the Jesters, he is desperate. He is willing to burn Eins to the ground just to catch you."
Uzo looked at the scroll. "Why? Why is he so afraid of one man without a name?"
"Because," Silas said, pointing a long finger at Uzo's chest. "King Lazarus rules by The Truth. His power comes from defining reality. He says 'Sun', and the sun rises. He says 'Obey', and the people kneel."
Silas's eyes gleamed.
"But you... you are a blank page. You are the only thing in this world that his words cannot touch. And that terrified him."
Uzo felt the weight of that truth. He wasn't just a fugitive; he was a glitch in the system of a god.
"So where do we go?" Uzo asked. "If the Clowns are coming, nowhere is safe."
Silas stood up and walked to a large map pinned to the wall. It depicted the Eins Kingdom, split into territories.
He tapped a jagged mountain range in the north, covered in snow.
"The Weeping Pass," Silas said. "It leads to the territory of the House of Myth."
"Myth?" Ronnie asked. "I thought they were extinct."
"Dormant," Silas corrected. "They deal in legends, in stories that are so old they forgot they were true. They don't answer to Lazarus. If you can make it to their citadel, the Archives of Echo, you might find answers about what you are."
He turned back to them.
"But the pass is dangerous. It's guarded by the House of Barbarian—wild men who reject the True Tongue and speak only in grunts and blood."
Uzo nodded. "It's better than waiting here for the circus to arrive."
Silas threw a heavy sack onto the table. It clinked with coins and supplies.
"Take this. Bread, dried meat, and a salve for that arm."
Uzo took the sack. He looked at the Necromancer.
"Why are you really doing this, Silas? You said you hate Lazarus, but this is treason."
Silas walked to the window, looking out at his village of silent, working dead.
"My daughter," he said softly. "She had a beautiful name. Elara."
He paused, his reflection in the glass looking tired and old.
"Lazarus decided that 'Elara' sounded too much like the name of a traitor from the old wars. So he took it. He stripped her name from the Lexicon to 'purify' the record."
Silas turned back, his eyes burning with cold fury.
"When you lose your name, you lose your soul. She became... empty. A husk. I had to bury her while she was still breathing."
He looked at Uzo.
"Burn him, Nameless. Burn his kingdom down. Make him silent."
Uzo tightened his grip on the sack. He understood now. In this world, grief wasn't just sadness—it was a debt waiting to be paid.
"I will," Uzo promised.
He and Ronnie turned to the door.
"One more thing," Silas called out.
Uzo stopped.
"The House of Clown doesn't travel like normal men," Silas warned. "If you hear laughter in the woods... don't run. It's already too late. Just close your eyes and pray they get bored."
Uzo nodded once, then pushed the door open.
The cold air hit them again, but this time, it felt different. The aimless wandering was over.
They had a destination.
They had an enemy.
And they had a war to start.