A World Of Decree: And The Seven Laws

Mooks rushed out of the Throne to where Cartuja was taken. Luckily, it wasn't far, and the Bureau had a handful of Medics that practiced high level healing magic. They could almost always cure anything, except for death.

By the time Mooks and the others behind him arrived, Cartuja was already fully recovered. He was propped up on a bed in a small room outside the Throne. Usually, these rooms were off limits for public access, but since Mooks was technically Cartuja's advisor for the time being, the Bureau's men let him in.

The room was small, covered in white walls, and had stands of mysterious items no one wanted to question. Mooks was the first to walk in, seeing Cartuja sitting on his bed beneath the covers. His headband was on the counter next to him, and his face had nothing but grief written all over it.

Mooks didn't say anything at first, letting Cartuja adjust to his presence. "How are you feeling?" Mooks asked, trying to be considerate.

Cartuja looked out the window, staying silent.

The rest walked in, and Cartuja turned back towards the door to see his friends all worried for him. His face seemed to brighten, but it was only for a moment as he turned back to glare out the window.

Laena was the first to approach, "Uhm…" She was shaking. Not because she was shy, but because she was nervous. She had no idea what he was feeling, and no idea how she could help, but she wanted to. "A-are you alright?"

Cartuja kept his stare on the window, nodding his head slowly.

Mooks turned back around, preparing to leave. "Let's go. When he gets to his senses he'll join back."

"Are you serious?!" Atlas barked at him, "What, you're just gonna come say hello after all that and just walk out without a thought?!" The anger in Atlas's voice shook the room, but Cartuja didn't care.

Mooks stopped, facing the door with nothing to show in his emotionless expression. "He lost. He recovered. End of story. You can stay and comfort him, but he needs to be left alone for now. None of you know what he's going through."

"Maybe not," Atlas added, "We have no idea what he's going through. But whatever it is, we're a team, and we're supposed to support each other when times are tough."

Cartuja took his head away from the window. "Please…" He said in a shallow, lifeless voice. "Leave me… Go with the cat."

Atlas turned back around with confusion stirring inside him, but one look at Cartuja's face gave him a reason to believe him. Everyone else could see how traumatized Cartuja was, so despite their friendship, they left.

Walking out of the room was the hardest thing they've ever done. It was like letting go of a loved one, or saying their last words to a fallen comrade. Whatever the feeling was, they felt it deeply.

As they headed back to the inn, Leo was the only one unable to grasp the situation. "I just don't get it." He scratched his head, "It's just one fight. We have plenty more, what's the big deal."

Mooks gave him a wry look, answering in a shattered voice. "Because, it's like you said. Just one fight. But that one fight meant everything to him. It showed his confidence, his trust, and his bravery. And that one fight took it all away just like that." Mooks tried to snap his fingers, but remembered he didn't have the human skin to do so.

"So is he just giving up?"

"Give him time, Leo. He'll come to his senses. He won't be able to do it by himself, but perhaps one of you can spark that flame inside him again. But it sure as hell won't be me."

"You make it sound like we know more than you…" Leo mumbled.

"In knowledge? No. In emotions? Yes." Mooks continued walking to the wagon, signaling to the driver to take them back to the inn in a friendly manner.

…

Later that evening, Mooks invited everyone to a nearby tavern for a few friendly drinks to forget everything and start on a brand new page tomorrow. The tavern looked like an ordinary bar, but it was much more lively than the bar Mooks was used to. Even some of the competing Guilds were sharing tables and grabbing friendly laughs with one another.

Mooks asked a waitress for a booth by the corner, and she happily gave him an open one for six people. Luckily, there were six of them. Mooks, Laena, Atlas, Leo, Paris, and Faibel, who needed to be convinced to come. Mooks ordered a round of water at first, mainly to set the scene and welcome everyone to what a bar looks like at night.

For the first few minutes no one spoke, but a sudden guest came to their corner booth unexpectedly. It was a girl, not older than twenty, but a face of someone who shows no mercy. She had blonde hair hanging below her shoulders, a pretty face, and a voice of someone who just wants more and more. She wore brown leather gloves, boots all the way past her knees, and a red queen-like skirt.

"Am I to assume this is the Guild that almost gave Teak a run for his money?" She said with a mocking tone.

Mooks gave her a death stare, "What of it?"

The girl chuckled cutely, "You know, you should talk more appropriately towards those you are weaker than, cat."

"Apologies," Mooks bowed sarcastically, "How about piss off before this CAT gets feisty."

Everyone at the table turned towards Mooks slowly, realizing how terrifying he truly sounded.

The girl laughed again, giving Mooks a stare of death. "I like you! What be your name? I am Ellacina Batallia, captain of the Elemntalists." She made a gesture as if she were presenting herself in front of a crowd.

Mooks paused, unsure if he cared enough to give his name, but realized there's no point of hiding it since Calvin is gone. "Mooks…" He paused again, trying his best to figure out his title, "Certified white tiger."

Ellacina was about to laugh again, but after giving a quick glance around the table, her expression twisted into a more serious one. "Why is it that all of you share a power level of 0. What are you pulling here, Mooks, the certified white tiger." She squinted her eyes, making everyone except for Paris slightly nervous.

Mooks grinned, "Maybe you're too caught up in your own pride you don't know how to cast a spell correctly."

Ellacina gave him a sarcastic smile, "I do hope I get to fight one of your Princewood children at some point." She glanced around the table, looking for something that wasn't there. "Only then, Mooks the certified cat, will you know how much of a mistake you've truly made by entering this tournament." She waved a fake goodbye, and headed over across the bar to her Guild.

Just as Mooks was about to begin talking again, a few strums of a lute caught him off guard. They weren't the type to just blare out as much noise as possible, but gentle, low flicks that caught your attention. Each flick of a string caught another eye in the tavern, and a melody began to play, extinguishing all the noise and chatter in an instant.

Mooks's table turned to the front where the music was being played, and their mouths nearly dropped out of pure shock. A boy was sitting on a stool, holding an old, but magnificent looking lute in his l.a.p. His eyes remained closed, but his fingers kept hopping from string to string. The boy had a headband wrapped around his neck, and his name was Cartuja.

As the silence finally reached its end from everyone in the tavern, Cartuja continued to play, and his lips followed along with the melody like an angel's harp.

His voice was perfect. It flowed with the rhythm like bristling wind chimes. It rolled off his tongue like the flow of a stream off a cliff side. It gifted a feeling of grief in everyone's hearts, but he continued playing, gently gliding the tip of his fingers across the old battered strings of the golden brown lute.

As he continued to play, his voice gained a rhythm like no other, and his mind focused closely on every beat of every note. Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours as the melody crawled throughout the tavern like the morning sunlight taking over the darkness of the shades.

He played and played to his heart's content, and until his fingers couldn't bear the burden any longer.

As Cartuja played his final note, not a single soul moved, or even dared to make a noise. They wanted more, they needed to hear the rest, they just wanted the beautiful harmony to ring through their ears for just a few more seconds. But Cartuja stood up from his stool, placed the lute down, and left the tavern.

The audience didn't clap, nor did they cry. They just froze. Their hearts ached of sadness, unfulfilled by such a short song. However, just hearing it once was enough, and even if they never got to hear it again, they all knew how much of a memory they carried from it, and they felt emotions they might neve get to feel again after tonight's astonishing performance.

Cartuja walked onto the empty street outside the Tavern, looking up at the moon above like a lone wolf in the forest. He still felt broken, and he still felt torn inside. He strolled over to a nearby tree, punching it with his b.a.r.e hand. He punched it again, and again, and again, until his knuckles bled and his face wanted no more.

He was about to punch again to finish off the bones in his knuckles, but a gentle touch on his shoulder broke him from his frustration.

"Please…" A soft voice whispered in his ear, "Stop it."

Cartuja painfully turned around, seeing Paris standing behind him on the verge of tears.

"I-"

Paris placed her finger on his lips, stopping him from whatever he was going to say. She wiped her eyes with her palm, and brushed her hair out of the way. "Uhhh... " She growled, angrily, but softly. "I can't believe I'm cr-" She wiped her eyes again, letting out a deep sigh. "Stop blaming everything on yourself… You lost. Big deal. We were all there." She said matter-of-factly, but softly as well. "You're aren't the only one in pain. You have friends by your side, we're always here for you." She grabbed his headband around his neck, and gestured for him to kneel.

He did, and she wrapped the headband around it's rightful place. She smiled, planted a small kiss on his forehead, and grabbed his hands with hers. "You'll win the next one. I'm sure of it," Her cheeks flushed beautifully under the streetlights. "Forget about what happened, and focus on what's to come." Paris held his hands, and wiped her eyes again with them. "You aren't the only one in tears, Cartuja."

She let go, smiled, and went back inside.

Cartuja couldn't believe what just happened. He didn't know whether it was a dream or not, but either or, he tightened his headband, and walked back to the inn with a schoolboy's smile pasted on his face.