Luigi Von Vortex's Arc

Chapter 2 of 6

Luigi walked to the high-striker and ran his hand down the worn wood. The bell at the top caught the torchlight. This device would show him who truly wanted the circus life. Someone in that crowd would step forward. Someone would swing the hammer hard enough to ring the bell. That person would be desperate enough, hungry enough, to take his place. He just had to wait and watch. A young woman with fire sticks stepped up first. She spun them once, twice, then set them down and grabbed the hammer. She lifted it high and brought it down hard. The metal puck shot up the track but stopped three quarters of the way. No bell. She cursed and walked away. A man in a strongman's outfit went next. His swing looked powerful, but the puck died just below the bell. Luigi watched six more people try and fail. Each time, the bell stayed silent. Each time, he felt the contract burn hotter in his pocket. Then a thin boy in patched clothes picked up the hammer. He didn't look strong enough, but his eyes held something Luigi recognized. Hunger. The boy swung with everything he had. The puck flew up the track and struck the bell. The sound rang out across the big top, clear and final. Luigi pulled the contract from his pocket and unfolded it slowly. The boy stood watching, breathing hard, his hands shaking. Luigi needed to dispose of the failed attempts first—the burned props, the broken chains, the remnants of tricks that had gone wrong over the years. He walked to the corner where the gothic circus containment trunk sat waiting. Dark wood and metal, covered in gold designs and symbols he'd stopped trying to understand decades ago. He lifted the lid and placed three cursed coins inside, items that couldn't stay in the big top any longer. The trunk would keep them safe until he could bury them properly. He closed the lid and turned back to the boy. The contract felt light in his hands now, almost weightless. His successor stood before him, and the dream of freedom had finally begun. Luigi crossed the ring and stopped in front of the boy. "You rang the bell. Now you learn what that means." He held out the contract, its yellow pages covered in cramped writing. The boy's eyes went wide as he read the first few lines. "This isn't a job," Luigi said. "This is a binding. You'll own this circus. You'll run every show. You'll never leave until someone takes your place." The boy swallowed hard but didn't step back. Luigi watched him carefully. This was the first lesson—understanding the weight of what he'd chosen. "I need to show you something before you sign." Luigi walked to his private wagon at the edge of the big top. Inside, on a dark wooden table, sat a thick tome with golden signatures glowing on its cover. Strange symbols marked the leather binding. He opened it and showed the boy page after page of names. "Every person who held this contract. Every ringmaster before me. Some lasted decades. Some lasted months." The boy leaned closer, tracing one signature with his finger. "They all wanted freedom," Luigi said. "They all thought they could find someone to take their place. You need to learn that now, before the ink dries." The boy looked up at him, fear and hunger mixing in his eyes. Luigi held out a pen. The boy took it. The contract lay flat on the table between them. The boy's hand shook as he pressed the pen to paper. His signature appeared in dark ink that seemed to sink into the yellow pages. The moment he finished the last letter, the contract glowed once, then went still. Luigi felt the weight lift from his chest, felt the burning in his pocket disappear. The circus had a new master now. Outside, the crowd had gone quiet, waiting. The boy looked at Luigi, then at the contract in his hands. "What happens now?" he asked. Luigi straightened his top hat and walked to the wagon door. "Now you learn to run a show. The caravan outside has lanterns. You'll need them for setup and teardown. The crew arrives before dawn. They'll expect orders." He stepped down onto the grass. The boy followed, clutching the contract like it might blow away. Luigi pointed to the ornate caravan parked near the entrance, its crimson and black panels gleaming with brass trim in the firelight. "That's yours now. Everything here is yours." The boy stared at it, then back at Luigi. "Where will you go?" Luigi smiled for the first time in seventy years. "Anywhere I want."