Chapter 4

"No way." Rocke stared, stuck rigidly in place. His worst nightmare had come true. The law had come for him. From Police Chief Rolf's expression, violence was his preferred way of taking down Rocke, even if he surrendered peacefully. Dallas tensed, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Kallane's guarded eyes darted around like a cornered animal. Maple fretted, scrunching up her apron nervously. Only Matthias remained maddeningly impassive.

Outside, the engines of the police cars roared like thunder, surrounding them with no chance of escape. Even the Sovereign couldn't rescue them from this situation.

But the Sovereign's prophet stood firm, unintimidated by the brute threatening them. "Excuse me, sir. But you are tracking dust into this house. Please wipe your feet before entering."

This unexpected challenge made the police chief blink briefly before he smiled and nodded. "Fair enough." Much to Rocke's surprise, Rolf removed his shoes and placed them on the mat.

"Good. We can now have a civilized discussion," Matthias said.

This earned a snort from Rolf, but it held a decent amount of respect. "You've got guts, Daliven! You're not what I expected from someone who was a filing clerk before turning to this prophet nonsense. If you have something to say, speak up."

"I want to lay out terms. I only want my friend Rocke treated with dignity and respect and that no one else gets caught in the crossfire. You may have us cornered, but the situation could easily explode out of control. If you harmed me, for example, it might spark a riot among the Ottomon."

"Never thought of it that way," Rolf said, mulling over the prophet's words.

Rocke realized Matthias might have a point. Nobody in the slums cared about some spoiled upper-city kid, but these people considered Matthias a holy man. The situation could become ugly, hurting many. From the protective zeal Rocke spotted in each of the Ottomon's eyes, even the ones peering in from outside, they seemed ready to give their lives to protect their prophet. Rolf could see it too.

"Truth be told, I want you dead, Matthias Daliven. You're a troublemaker, and I hate troublemakers," Rolf said, sending a jolt of fear through Rocke. 

The police chief scowled, mulling over his options. There wasn't any doubt to wanted to ring Rocke's thin neck, but after a tense couple of minutes, practicality won out. "But I can't deny that killing you might spark something I can't control. We'd deal with you all eventually, mark my words, but the cost wouldn't be acceptable to the higher-ups. The Mayor would have my behind."

The police chief wasn't wrong. It was election time. An uncontrollable riot wouldn't look good. Rocke held his breath. Was Matthias going to solve this peaceably?

"Fine. The kid comes with me without a fuss, and I promise not to rough him up." Rolf clearly didn't like making this promise but continued anyway. "You have my word as an officer of the law."

"But!" Kallane said in protest. Dallas stopped her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder and shaking his head.

"That is acceptable. Sorry, my boy, but this is where we part ways," Matthias said, his voice compassionate.

"Yeah," Rocke said, nodding. Part of him wanted to protest and fight, but he feared what would happen if he tried. These people had shown nothing but kindness to him. He couldn't bear seeing them get hurt. "I'm ready to go."

"Good." Rolf slapped electronic cuffs over Rocke's hands and pushed him toward the door. The police chief's voice hardened, becoming dangerous. "And one thing before I go. I'll tolerate you spreading your prophecies, but if I sniff a hint of trouble from the Demons, I'll smash down on you like a hammer against an anvil."

"Agreed," Matthias said with a slight nod.

"Bye, everyone. Thanks for your hospitality," Rocke said with a sad smile. Despite only knowing them for a day, he'd miss them.

"May the Sovereign go with you," Matthias said.

Kallane thudded a fist against her chest and offered a deep, heartfelt bow of respect. "Go with strength and courage, Rocke." Dallas and Maple repeated the gesture.

"Some fellow," Rolf said after depositing Rocke on his cop car's back seat. "It's been a while since someone challenged me like that."

"You were lying, right?" Phú, the cutesy avatar, said from the front seat panel. "You're not really letting those rabble-rousing scum escape, are you?"

Rocke tensed, realizing Rolf had likely only said those things to prevent an incident. Nothing bound the police chief to his word. Much to his shock, Rolf shook his head.

"No, my word is my bond," Rolf replied. "Let him play prophet. Besides, when forty days pass and nothing happens, he'll look a total fool. Let him destroy himself."

"Okay," Phú said, disappointed. Was the fun, cutesy avatar of the Vladus police department always this bloodthirsty? He'd always rather enjoyed the little public service announcement shorts she'd done in her service for the greater public good. 

"And that means no trouble from you, either," Rolf said.

"Yeah! Escape and I'll kill you!" Phú added with the utmost seriousness. It almost earned an amused chuckle from Rocke. Was she serious?

"No trouble," Rocke said, nodding. Although this danger had passed, it was a minor reprieve. He would confront his father soon. Rocke almost wished a fight had broken out and killed him. It'd spare him from worse.

---

"We can't just let them go!" Kallane yelled, continuing her rant. She'd been railing against everything she hated about the UOP and their people for almost a solid ten minutes. Matthias waited for her to finish, amused by her vitriol. Dallas waited with him, arms crossed. Her mother only sighed, brewing some much-needed tea.

"I refuse to allow those monsters to keep him!" Kallane declared, eyes hardening. She'd made her decision and wouldn't move from it.

"I agree," Matthias replied.

"Eh?" Kallane blinked, unsure she'd heard him right.

"You're right. We can't leave Rocke in their hands. For one thing, throwing him in jail for defending another isn't just. Another is that Vladus isn't safe. Once the Sovereign's judgment comes, he'll be in terrible danger if he stays in the city. And besides, I promised to protect the lad."

"Oh," Kallane said, brightening.

"I have no intention of abandoning the boy either," Dallas said, nodding, despite only knowing Rocke for only a couple of minutes.

"Yes, that boy needs our help," Maple said, her expression going hard. It was a sharp contrast to her usual plump, friendly face.

"Breaking Rocke out of the police station won't be easy." Matthias stroked the stubble on his chin. But the daunting prospect of their mission didn't scare him. "We need to rescue Rocke before they send him to an actual prison. Freeing him then will be nearly impossible with our limited resources."

"It'll take some days before he's processed and sent to trial." Dallas tapped his chin. "Getting the plans to the station's layout shouldn't be difficult."

"I can get more muscle," Maple said, surprising her daughter.

"Mom?"

"I have connections. All trustworthy, I promise you," her mother replied, amused by her daughter's reaction.

Unbeknownst to Kallane, her mother had facilitated their contact with Dallas. Maple had an interesting and colorful past, from what Matthias understood. Where do you think her daughter inherited her boundless courage and determination?

"And I'll help however else I can," Kallane said weakly, realizing the others already had the plan well underway. For all her courage and bluster, she hadn't really thought her plan through. Thankfully, she had plenty of friends.

"Let's be about it, people. And may the Sovereign watch over us," Matthias said.

---

"Ah, welcome Rolf. It's a pleasure to see you again." The man at the desk rose, flashing his trademark smile. It was so wide that Rolf saw every tooth. The Mayor seemed to glow like the sun, his perfectly coiffed blond hair a model of human beauty. It made the police chief somewhat self-conscious about his bald dome. 

"I live to serve, sir," was Rolf's guarded reply. He knew behind the smile and chiseled jaw hid a devious, ruthless mind. Mayor Cal Sunbearer wanted something.

"I heard how you apprehended your nephew's murderer," Sunbearer said. "Shame. He seemed like such a bright, promising young lad. Poor Fenweller must be fretting about how he'll recover from this."

"And I'm sure you don't mind how it's damaged your chief rival's chances in the upcoming election," Rolf thought. He detected the gloating hidden behind the mayor's consoling words. No doubt everyone was whispering about Fenweller Ralss' nephew's recent arrest.

"Since I know how much you dislike small talk, I'll be brief. I've been hearing concerning reports."

"Oh?"

"They tell me a madman is running around, telling people the end is nigh and our great city is doomed to destruction."

"Him? Ignore it. He's a crackpot, little more."

But the mayor's displeasure was evident on his face. "It's not like you to tolerate such obvious troublemakers. With the election late next month, I'd rather have people more focused on the election than some impending doom saying. His prophecies have spread far across the UOP, even to Prime Minister Luciest's ears. He's concerned."

"Matthias Daliven is a crackpot. Everyone will forget about him soon enough," Rolf said, undaunted. Some pretty pencil pusher wouldn't push him around, his stern gaze telling Sunbearer that much.

The mayor clicked his tongue. "If you say so. I don't like the unrest that's been gathering in my city. The Demons are marching in protests for every perceived slight that's bothering them that week. Vanderfall is making some behind-closed-doors deals with Dugran and Konquell. Some of my constituents fear they're making an alliance against the UOP for some military retribution for the last war." And with Vladus close to Vanderfall's border, they'd be the first to face the country's wrath. 

To this, Rolf only shrugged. "It's the Prime Minister's and Defense Department's problem. Why are you even worried? The UOP possesses the strongest military in the world. Even together, those three nations can't oppose us. They'd be fools to try."

"Regardless, I want the city calm for the next election. No distractions. Period," the mayor said, his voice hard. "If you need to burn down some slums to keep the Demons quelled, I won't complain."

"Fine," Rolf said, his tone neutral. What was the mayor anxious about? Did Sunbearer know something he didn't? "You won't hear a peep."

The mayor's serious expression evaporated, throwing Rolf his trademark golden smile. "Excellent. You're a marvel, Rolf."

---

Rocke shivered, trying to keep his despair from his face. With other criminals around him, he dared not show weakness. The dank cell was devoid of any comforts. Even the stone seat underneath him seemed designed for maximum discomfort.

A colorful assortment accompanied him in the cell, many accustomed to being locked up. Their faces were hard, used to violence. Rocke even noticed some Ottomon among their number, just as unfriendly. He kept his guard up, but thankfully, no one bothered him.

"Rocke Ralss. You have a visitor," an officer said, moving to open the cell.

"Here we go," Rocke thought. His movements were stiff as he exited the cell, each step a walk closer to hell.

And there his father stood, accompanied by Police Chief Rolf and the other officers. His father, Ekkor Ralss, was an imposing man, standing almost 15 centimeters taller than his son. His shoulders were broad, someone in peak physical health despite his middle years. Worse was his stony gaze, his steely eyes offered his son neither warmth nor affection. They bore into Rocke like a ruthless predator.

"Father, I…" 

Stars flashed behind Rocke's eyes as a fist connected with his chin, dazed he suddenly found himself lying on the floor. The officers stared in wide-eyed shock at the scene, but didn't interfere. 

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" his father said. "How you've hurt this family?"

Rocke stayed silent, remaining on the floor.

"After everything I've done for you, and this is how you repay me? Uncle Fenweller is furious. You're lucky he isn't here. He wouldn't have been so gentle." His father clicked his tongue. "Thanks to your foolishness, your uncle's prospects of getting elected mayor are almost ruined. After he took you into his high-rise too! And for what? To protect some worthless beggar and kill an upstanding member of society?"

This triggered something in Rocke. He'd planned to stay silent and let his father finish his tirade. But dammit, he wouldn't allow that last comment to slide.

Rocke stood to his feet, matching his old man's steely glare. "That beggar is a good man. He's done nothing deserving death."

"What? That vagabond spouting out religious claptrap?" his father shot back, his gaze intense enough to melt steel, but Rocke held firm. Despite the tragedy, for once, Rocke felt proud of his actions. He sure as hell wouldn't allow anyone to shame him for it.

"Claptrap or not, Matthias is a brave man," Rocke replied evenly. "And he's done nothing to anyone. What Joven attempted to do was wrong. I couldn't stand by and do nothing."

Father and son entered an intense staring match, Rocke refusing to be intimidated. The punch came again, faster than Rocke could react. He collapsed, wheezing, on the cold floor.

"I see you've inherited your grandmother's idiocy. What type of fool stands proud when they throw away their life? I was hoping I might salvage something from this situation. Now I see I shouldn't have bothered. Don't expect us to spend a copper defending you. You're on your own, Rocke. Never come home again. You aren't wanted." Ekkor Ralss walked away from his son, never looking back. 

Tears threatened to spill. Rocke wasn't sure if it was the pain or sadness. Still, part of Rocke felt relieved, free, like he'd exorcised the worst part of himself.

"Tsk." Much to Rocke's surprise, Rolf was surprisingly gentle as he lifted his prisoner from the concrete floor. "Let's go, lad. Up and easy."

Rolf's expression was sour as he returned Rocke to his cell. He muttered under his breath about worthless fathers. Rocke was relieved as he parked himself back on the jail cell bench, his ribs still aching. His father hadn't held back.

"We'll get you a decent lawyer," Rolf said as he left. "I don't appreciate what you did to my nephew, but you deserve better."

Rocke blinked, dumbfounded. Didn't Rolf hate him? It surprised him to find something decent in the Police Chief of Vladus. Still, Rocke was truly alone now, abandoned by everyone who might help him. Even his mother hadn't been interested in seeing him.

"Dear Sovereign, please help me," Rocke said in silent prayer, tears stinging his eyes. He paused, lost for words, too overwhelmed with emotion. What did someone even ask of the creator of the universe? Would he even listen to a fool like Rocke? Finally, one simple request came to mind. "Please, I need you."