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Chapter 68: Shakeup (Jukush 18th: Year 666 of the 4th Age) The castle and the capital buzzed lively when I woke up. Virtually all was lugubrious wails as I walked the hallways and obtained breakfast. The security was tighter than normal. Initially, I thought someone prominent like the Alpha Prime or his pack became deceased. Then, I fretted that dad died. It turned out not to be the case when he and the Alpha Prime emerged, and they were both perturbed. He, the Alpha Prime, other Alphas, and some in the Alpha Prime’s inner circle corrugated around the sovereign and chattered about the breaking news. Individually, my pack emerged, and each were as confused as I was. Lárus sat down next to me with an empty plate. “Any idea what the hell is going on, Kaera?” I looked at the noble Fenri and the Alpha Prime, trying to discern who or what was the current vogue topic. “No clue.” The attempts were otiose. Róstran was on edge when he sat a the table. He, too, had zero pabulums for consumption, and his behavior was somewhat redolent of sensing Fjöðvar. “Quite the babel today.” “Yeah,” Lárus responded. “Kaera and I are trying to figure out what happened.” He pointed Róstran at the Alphas. Róstran turned around. “I heard rumors that someone paramount perished.” My eyes lit up after conjuring a pure guess. “What if it’s the Alpha Prime’s daughter?” “That’ll do it if indubitable.” Dad conversed with those of his rank for nearly half an hour before sitting with us. “Shit,” he exasperatedly sighed. “So much for me thinking my investigation wouldn’t get more enigmatic.” “What’s going on?” Hrafnir inquired. “I’m supposed to keep this a secret, but I already see some of the news spreading around, so the whole country will find out eventually.” Dad gestured everyone to congregate around him and get real close for him to murmur. “Two people died last night.” Hrafnir raised his eyebrows. “Two?” “The alleged, corrupt referee and Þjálfí.” We erupted into an uproar, and dad suddenly gesticulated us to be silent, shushing us with a hiss. “Quiet! Yes they’re dead.” “How?” Lárus urgently asked. “Uncertain. All I know is they appeared to fall asleep peacefully last night and never woke up. A servant found Þjálfí while cleaning his room, and the wife tried waking up the referee in futility. No signs of struggle or force entry in both cases.” “Natural causes?” Ingileif catechized. “Bullshit,” I grumbled to myself when dad nodded. “It’s being ruled that way for now, but I and several other Alphas expressed doubts. Either way, there’s an investigation underway, and we don’t want the public to suspect a potential murderer and panic. So, keep this information secret.” “What about Kellam?” Mom angrily spoke, digging her claws the table. Dad beheld mom’s rancor and rubbed her shoulders.“Prime Álköveik will ponder on the tournament and decide soon.” He was the first to finish, and the chair screeched as he stood up. “I won’t be available for awhile, so Hrafnir’s in charge and the one you’ll report to him if any of you,” he pointed at me, mom, Róstran, and Lárus, “particularly you four, if you want to explore the cities.” “Understood,” Hrafnir replied, and everyone nodded concurrently. Dad kissed everyone, gave each his verbal adoration, and sighed heavily. “This is going to be a long day.” “At least you don’t have to fret about if the referee accepted bribes for favoritism towards Íkamæn’s opponent,” Rýnaki chimed in. “There’s that, but two more heads took its place.” Dad left with one more Alpha. Mom tended to the pups, and no one had an appetite for exploring the capital, so I stayed in Róstran’s temporary room with him and Lárus. Our expressions, moods, and cogitations were identical. We fretted about dad and the investigators discovering we were the last to see Þjálfí alive and inquire what occurred. Íkamæn most likely was in our boat, too, and that added another jeopardizing layer to our secret. The news murdered our libido to where even the sanctioned pool couldn’t resurrect it if we relocated there. We jumped after perceiving a knock on the door. It turned out to be Hrafnir. He alerted us the game was imminent, and dad wanted us to be there because of the Alpha Prime. The arena buzzed with the most recent deaths even though the Alphas wanted the news hush-hush. The atmosphere behaved as if a national tragedy just happened. Only a few blimps percolated about them being murdered. The three remaining contestants stood in the arena, wondering what their kismets were. The Alpha Prime emerged and gestured everyone to be silent. “Good afternoon, everyone. I hear the news has reached all of you about what happened this morning. It is true. Þjálfí is dead. His departure is a great loss to this country and leaves a deep wound in us all. I’m commanding all the available Alphas in the city to investigate and confirm there was no foul play involved.” The crowd murmured the cacophony, until he gestured it to simmer down, again. “I have thought hard about what it means for the tournament and who will we the honor of mating my daughter for her special Mating Ceremony after. For the sake of this country’s future, the tournament will continue. Kellam will advance to the final where he will face either Íkamæn or Haddi.” The dissonance erupted louder with decries and jeers. Only the Church of the Red Wolf cheered jubilantly. “SILENCE!” The arena went taciturn once more.” The events will proceed as normal. Rest assured that whoever, if any, is behind Þjálfí’s death will be put to justice, even if it’s one of the remaining contestants. Now, Kellam will enjoy a break, and the next round begins in a few minutes.” I fretted about Íkamæn’s chances and supplicated he was victorious. He was the next best to defeat Kellam after Þjálfí because of similar interests, and I’d rather risk him reducing his family’s sentence than having a radical jingo enact Faer’s will. Haddi was the opposite of cocksure since his favorite arbiter also ended up dead. His stance was effete, his legs trembling. Íkamæn was stoic as ever. The new referee apparently was abecedarian, and this match popped his cherry. It looked like the Alpha Prime selected him at the last second since he was going over the rulebook. The adjudicator spoke timidly about the match and the ukases, and the round commenced. Neither Íkamæn nor Haddi made any movements, another indicator the latter lost his confidence without his supposed illegal ace up his sleeve. The former advanced at a blinding speed, catching him off guard. One point quickly on the board for Íkamæn as he barely blocked a punch before swiftly receiving another strike to his omphalos. Naturally, he cried fowl before realizing he had no aid which was further reinforced when the referee scanned the rulebook and declared his claim void. The decree caused Haddi to change tactics. He went on the offensive although he restrained himself. No knavery he used from his previous matches.Surprisingly, he demonstrated adroitness with his weapon which raised questions in me of why he resorted to questionable conduct that led to dad investigating him. Íkamæn kept up with the change, but the score tilted to Haddi’s favor, 2-1. Íkamæn wiped some blood off his right cheek after receiving a cut. He caught Haddi’s dominant wrist and applied pressure to force Haddi into releasing the sword, followed by multiple clangs. Two lightning-fast jabs landed on Haddi’s shoulder though he was perplexed when Haddi shrugged it off. He kicked the sword away and received a powerful punch across his jaw. The score became 3-2, going into a tie when he rapidly poked him multitudinous times. Haddi ran towards his weapon, and Íkamæn jumped on him. The impact made him fall to his knees for a second. Then, he stood up and surprised me and the audience of being capable of tossing the bigger, more muscular opponent over himself and onto the ground with ease. Íkamæn locked legs and brought him down. The two Fenri rolled around until he was on top of Íkamæn, and he went back to his usual tricks. He targeted Íkamæn’s exposed scrotum and tightly squeezed the testicles inside, causing the males around me to wince and cover their genitalia. The ref gave him a warning although the nefarious deed was too blatant to not ignore. Regardless, Íkamæn lessened his grip, and the two competitors broke free and stood up. The score remained tied. He was in between the sword and Haddi, and Haddi charged at him, head-butting him in the chest. They were equal in strength. Very diminutive shifts of their feet occurred, imperceptible to those who weren’t like dad. The longest minute ever went by before the phlegmatic shift became apparent to everyone. They got closer to the sword. He winced, yelped, and held his genitals in pain, bending over. Way more subtle and ambiguous in intention, but the arbiter was on his game and gave Haddi the final admonishment. Haddi gladly accepted the warning for it gave him the opening to retrieve his blade and tip the balance to his favor. He learned fast, timing his strikes with better stances to avoid losing it again. A slash flashed by, but I noticed Íkamæn recoiling back and covering his right eye, the hand covering said eye becoming crimson fast. There was a fresh laceration just above Íkamæn’s eyebrow, and the blood gushed out, forcing Íkamæn to fight with one eye. Íkamæn snapped his fingers, followed by Haddi stumbling and clutching his chest. Panic ensured in Haddi’s eyes. I presupposed his victory was assured from his grin and was elated. My mood was as premature as his and changed just as quickly as Haddi sluggishly and absentmindedly staggered around for a few seconds before regaining vigor. Haddi yelled furiously and entered into a rage, the first time he did in the entire tournament. Everyone was stupefied, and Íkamæn was also concerned. He ran and swung recklessly though the surprise remained his ally. The score went further into his favor, 5-3, when he left a deep cut across Íkamæn’s chest. Íkamæn kept retreating until tripping and falling backward. He stabbed the splatters of claret ground as Íkamæn rolled away. My mood fluctuated as wildly as the tide of the match though it remained at a constant fear. The score skewed further towards Haddi, and every injury he left on Íkamæn debilitated the latter further and fueled his rage. At the current rate, there was no chance for Íkamæn to catch up if death remained out of the realm of possibility, which there was a high likelihood of occurring. The score became 7-4. Íkamæn’s best asset, his feet, suffered injury that slowed his movement, giving Haddi another score. His primary method of avoiding and stalling to exhaust Haddi’s rage became next to otiose as he basically hopped on one leg. Haddi noticed and closed in for the finisher, and I bit my nails. He fell after suffering a critical hit by the sword. No motion emanated from him. To all the world, he was as dead as Þjálfí. Haddi accepted it as fact and reverted to normal as the referee moved closer to confirm the victor. I anxiously waited, and my adrenaline coursed through my veins, wishing for the slimmest possibility he was at least alive and abandoning the futile hope he could still turn the kismet to his side. The two worst options for ascending to the throne was an imminent reality, and Haddi became a braggadocio, flaunting his success to the audience. The referee briefly inaugurated the apparent winner but suddenly stopped from doing so. The abrupt interregnum forced me to open my eyes and witness Haddi stopping his bragging and turning around in confusion. Íkamæn stirred and gradually got on his feet. He spit some blood and heavily panted. His body wobbled and was unsteady. A gentle breeze could easily knock him back on his fundament. “Round ain’t over yet, Haddi.” Haddi flashed a cocksure smile and pointed his weapon at Íkamæn. “Any last words you wish to share? I have two you can borrow right now.” “I have three, actually. You already lost.” Íkamæn snapped his fingers. “What?” Haddi enunciated in confusion before instantly dropping unconscious where he stood. The referee glanced between Íkamæn and Haddi several times before checking on the latter. The latter remained motionless long enough for him to be the victor. Medical aid rushed to his rescue as he fell back to the ground. The crowd erupted in cheers. He glanced around as the healers hauled him away. I saw he was jubilant, assuming he believed he made progress at restoring his honor after what Rikka and Gellir did. “How in Salföðgrí’s name did he turn that around?” Dágfárik uttered in awestruck. “He just exhausted his second chance for the rest of the day,” dad spoke to himself. I saw dad get up from his seat. “Where are you going?” “Going to see Íkamæn in the infirmary, hopefully,” dad answered while shuffling through the crowd. “Can I come?” I asked, and Lárus and Róstran also asked to tag along. “If you want to.” “Why the interest in him?” Mom inquired scrunched up in a fetal position as dad scooted past her. “If it’s possible, I’m going to share some advice on fighting Kellam. After enduring this round, he needs all the help he can get. This is the best chance at stopping Kellam from becoming the next Alpha Prime.” Mom lowered her feet once she was able to. She had more fear than I did. “And if it’s not possible?” Dad stopped and turned at her. “Then hope you prayed harder to Faer than he did.”