CHAPTER 32: A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE

The Blue Wardens continued to push their way through the crowds, leading Norrin and Graykeeper to the gates of the Circle, the business district of the Citadel. Upper middle-class families inhabited this borough in high-rise buildings with spacious apartments, along with many amenities for them to enjoy. The streets were wider allowing for a multitude of small crawlers with personal carriages to commute around the district. There were dozens of bistros and eateries, and a plethora of fashion markets. Scholars, Dealers and Merchants hurried along the Circle’s streets to make their appointments, annoyed that their busy day was being interrupted by the Wardens passing through.

Norrin always felt there was a distinct change in the atmosphere between the Octagonal and the Circle. He had noticed this change since his youth, because the Citadel’s Institute is located on the southside of the Circle, and is where he got his education. Some of Norrin’s friends from Zone 3 scoffed at the idea of sitting in a classroom all day. But for Norrin, the Institute became a kind of escape from the hard life of the Eights. His parents instilled in his sister and him a sense of pride in learning and having knowledge of the world. Something he believes has helped keep him alive to this day.

The Quad was a completely new experience for Norrin.

“I have never been permitted to get a pass into the Quads.” He whispered to Nassima in anticipation. As they passed through the double gated and heavily guarded entryway, he was immediately struck by the unique and stately architecture of the buildings. Which differed from the utilitarian structures of the Octagonal, and the architecturally stylized Circle. There were grand manors everywhere, and the parks and gardens flourished. Trees and hedges were incorporated into the building designs which continued the lush, green aesthetic of the area. The abundance of trees and plant life contributed to the fresh and clean air inside the Quad, in contrast to the polluted atmosphere of the lower boroughs. The Highborn citizens residing there were abuzz with curiosity about the pair headed to a meeting with the High Governor. It was a borderline scandal that a common Chaser was even able to enter the Quad, let alone step foot into the Tri.

When the column of soldiers reached the grand solid gold color gates of the Tri, they were greeted by an envoy of the High Governor. He dismissed the commander and his men, and escorted Norrin and Graykeeper inside. Norrin gained an acute awareness of the stark differences between the classes as soon as he laid eyes on the luxurious and lavish grounds of the Tri. There were three main buildings; the Court, the Statehouse and the High Governor’s Palace. Each of them were immense, immaculate in their design, and adorned with solid gold décor and monuments showcasing the glory of the Triton Realm. Immense sculptures dedicated to various Azuri, lovingly carved by masters of the craft, decorated the courtyard. The powerful forms of men and women sat upon pillars that were raised into the sky. They were placed to seem as if they looked down upon the inhabitants of the Tri, offering them their divine protection and blessings. Norrin noted one sculpture in particular. A beautiful female warrior standing triumphantly on top of the severed head of a large dragon, her spear planted in one of its eyes. A statue dedicated to the legend of the Azuri Nassima.

“I have never seen such extravagance,” Norrin muttered under his breath.

“I am not impressed,” Nassima declared. “This gross display of wealth and power is terrible, knowing the blight of the Octagonal. Also, what are these things? Who are they supposed to represent?”

“I believe they are the Azuri.” Norrin said slightly bemused.

“Disgusting,” Nassima frowned at the thought. “How did they even concoct these figurines? They look nothing like any of us. Is that supposed to be me? I have never killed a dragon! Dragons do not even exist! They are only a figment of some poor storyteller’s imagination!”

Norrin silently chuckled as they approached the most indulgent of the three buildings by far; the palace of the High Governor. A wide set, three tier stairway adorned with a crimson rug led up to the entrance of the palace. While large stain glass windows flanked both sides of the ornamented cathedral doors of the entryway. The crimson rug continued into the grand hall once inside. Elegant golden braziers filled with torchcrystals attached to large columns lit the walkway, and covered the hall in a warm glow.

Shooting off the main corridor were rooms and chambers whose décor could only be described as grandiose and over the top. They were filled with custom designed furniture that doubled as works of high art. While actual works of art were particularly placed in the hallways and stairwells. The artwork varied from classical stone sculptures to loud and outlandish abstract displays that somehow caught the attention of a bored Highborn’s mind. Detailed murals depicting a stylized history of the world covered the ceilings, while the walls were decorated with intricate crisscrossing patterns that created a weird illusion of movement if one stared at them for too long.

As they moved deeper into the palace, Norrin spied a dozen or so crimson banners with gilded trimmings and gold tassels that hung from the high ceilings. Standing between each banner were gleaming solid gold busts of important Highborn citizens and the former High Governors of Citadel Firstview. All of them someway related to the current High Governor; Samuel Blackhelm.

“Please,” The envoy instructed as he led the men around a corner toward another large set of cathedral doors. “You may wait here.”

Norrin noticed Nassima studying one of the golden busts with an intense stare. He made a casual step in her direction in order to converse with her in a more discreet manner

“I recognize this man” Nassima told Norrin. “My memory is a fog, but his face is familiar to me.”

“This is High Governor Victor Blackhelm” Norrin said as he studied the painstakingly designed bust. “He is one of the most influential men in history of Triton. Before him, each Citadel used to negotiate their own individual deals to trade goods and resources with each other and the Nines. But traveling between the Citadels and the Nines was dangerous, because of all the creatures roaming the land. The costs of trade and travel skyrocketed because the transport companies took advantage of people. He regulated the trading and caravan companies and secured routes for travel by coordinating the militaries of the Citadels. He proposed the individual deals made with the Southern Nines come to end and renegotiated a unilateral lifetime trade agreement that better favored the Citadels. With the combined might of all three militaries and the control of all trade companies and routes. The Citadels gained total negotiating power over the Nines and could demand whatever they wanted.”

“How do you know so much of this man?” Nassima inquired impressed by the abundance of information Norrin was able to offer.

“I know the history of this man from two perspectives,” Norrin replied.” In the Institute’s history lessons, they taught Victor Blackhelm as one of the great founders of civilization. A shrewd and clever magnate that brought wealth and prosperity to the Citadels. But, in the Southern Nines and places outside of the Citadels, he was known as a ruthless warlord willing to do anything to gain power. He conglomerated the travel and trade companies by force. Those that did not join were promptly and painfully put out of business. He strong armed the independent towns into joining the Realm, and if they refused he razed them to the ground.”

“Blackhelm also either intimidated or bought off the leaders of the Southern Nines, and if that didn’t work, had them assassinated and replaced with leaders of his choosing. He bullied the Nines into the trade contract, and the High Governors have exploited that agreement ever since. The Triton Realm flourished while the Southern Nines languished in poverty. For this reason, Victor Blackhelm is beloved by many and also despised by many more.”

Nassima again studied the bust. The brief history lesson Norrin had given her was interesting but did not explain how she recognized the face of this man. That is when she noticed a small detail carefully captured as part of his tribute.

“That scar,” Nassima murmured as she lifted her hand towards the golden face of Victor Blackhelm. Her fingers traced a thin but noticeable scar that started below the busts left eye, crossed diagonally across the bridge of his nose and ended on the right side of his forehead leaving a small rut in his hairline.

“They say he received that scar when he apparently fought and defeated a Red Spikebear.” Norrin told her. “He was very proud of it.”

Except there was no Spikebear. Suddenly, Nassima remembered exactly how Victor Blackhelm received his scar.