Chapter 3: The Rules of the Game
The sun rose over the capital, casting its golden glow across the towering spires and bustling streets. Riven stood at the edge of a wide plaza, watching as a group of children laughed and played near a vendor selling roasted nuts. Yet, the vibrant atmosphere did little to ease the tension in his chest. The city's underbelly was darker than he had imagined, and he needed answers.
### **A Fateful Meeting**
Nyx, perched on Riven's shoulder, growled softly as a tall figure approached them. The man's gait was confident but unhurried, his emerald cloak swaying with each step. He was older, perhaps in his early forties, with a chiseled jawline and streaks of gray in his dark hair. His eyes, however, sparkled with a sharp intellect that made Riven wary.
"You must be Riven," the man said, his voice rich and commanding. "I've heard whispers about you—an outsider making waves in a city that doesn't take kindly to disruptions."
Riven tensed. "And you are?"
"Call me Alaric," the man said with a small bow. "I serve no lord, but I know the game better than most. Come, walk with me. There's much you need to understand if you plan to survive here."
Hesitant but curious, Riven followed Alaric into a quieter part of the city.
### **The Web of Power**
They entered a private courtyard shielded from prying eyes. Alaric gestured for Riven to sit on a stone bench. A servant appeared, setting down tea before vanishing as quickly as he had come.
"The capital is a chessboard, Riven," Alaric began, pouring the tea. "And the domadores—beast tamers—are its most valuable pieces."
Riven frowned. "Why? I thought the nobles cared about wealth and titles, not beasts."
Alaric chuckled. "Wealth and titles mean little without power to back them up. And in this city, power comes from control—over people, resources, and yes, beasts. The nobles discovered long ago that taming the most dangerous creatures earns respect, fear, and influence."
Nyx tilted his head, emitting a soft chirp as if urging Riven to pay closer attention.
Alaric continued, "There are five noble houses in the capital, each vying for dominance. House Caedryn controls the Iron Tithe; they supply weapons and armor, ensuring no rebellion lasts long. House Feradyn oversees agriculture and trade, keeping the city fed. House Varentis manages the archives and magical artifacts, holding secrets that can make or break alliances. Then there's House Malroth, in charge of the city's military forces. And finally, House Teryn—masters of beast taming and the most ruthless of them all."
Riven's hands tightened around his cup. "And what about the common domadores? Are they part of this game?"
Alaric's expression darkened. "Pawns, mostly. The houses recruit tamers with potential, offering wealth and prestige in exchange for loyalty. But those who refuse often find themselves discarded—or worse."
Riven remembered the slums he had passed through earlier, the desperation etched into the faces of the tamers who couldn't secure a noble's favor.
### **The Houses and Their Beasts**
Alaric stood, pacing the courtyard. "Each house uses beasts to project its power. House Teryn, for example, breeds wyverns and drakes. Their aerial units dominate the skies. House Malroth trains packs of shadow wolves, lethal in coordinated attacks. The other houses aren't as specialized, but they still employ beasts as symbols of their strength."
"And the city allows this?" Riven asked, incredulous.
"The city thrives on it," Alaric replied bitterly. "The Council of Lords governs the capital, and each house has a seat. Their power struggles keep the system alive, but it's the common people who suffer most."
Riven leaned back, trying to process the weight of what he'd learned. "So where do I fit into all this?"
"You don't—yet," Alaric said, his tone sharp. "But you've already attracted attention. If you want to survive, you need allies and a clear strategy. Understand the rules, Riven, or you'll become another casualty of this game."
### **Testing the Mentor**
Riven wasn't convinced. "Why are you telling me this? What do you gain from helping me?"
Alaric smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Ah, a cautious one. Good. Let's just say I have a vested interest in shaking up the current order. The houses have grown complacent, and their stranglehold on the city's resources weakens us all. You're an anomaly, Riven—a wildcard. I'd rather see you disrupt the game than fall victim to it."
Riven studied the man, searching for any sign of deception. "Fine. What's my next move?"
Alaric's gaze turned serious. "First, you need to prove yourself. There's a beast-fighting arena in the lower quarter. Win a match, and you'll earn the respect of the tamers there. Lose, and you'll learn the price of failure."
Riven's jaw tightened. "I'll do it."
Alaric nodded. "Good. But remember—strength alone won't save you here. Learn to read people, to anticipate their moves. The arena is a microcosm of the city's politics. Use it to your advantage."
### **The Arena Beckons**
As Riven left the courtyard, his mind raced. Alaric's words had opened a door to a world he barely understood, one filled with alliances, betrayals, and ruthless ambition. He glanced at Nyx, whose glowing eyes mirrored his determination.
"We'll figure this out," Riven muttered. "No one controls us—not the houses, not the Council, no one."
Nyx chirped in agreement, and together, they made their way toward the lower quarter, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
Unbeknownst to Riven, a pair of eyes watched from the shadows, their owner whispering into a communication crystal. "He's moving toward the arena. Let's see if he survives his first test."
The city's game had begun, and Riven was now a piece on the board. Whether he would rise as a player or fall as a pawn remained to be seen.