Restraint and Justice

Throughout their short life, Wanderer had felt a lot of things, fear, joy, confusion, wonder, all these emotions were now familiar to them, but as they stood looking upon the imprisoner, slaver, a new emotion crashed like a lightening bolt upon their soul, suffusing them entirely.

It felt like fire and brimstone had welled within their soul, not content to be contained, it felt like the volcano they had seen from so far away was concentrated inside of them, it felt like fear, except they did not need to fear anything, they were the one to be feared.

The Golem didn’t even notice themself move, one moment they were standing still and the next the slaver was attempting to crawl away in terror, leg bending at an unnatural angle.

Their escape attempt was as futile as the attempt of the man they had imprisoned, in an instant Wanderer was upon them, four arms preparing to fall.

The first punch was the weakest, coming from their deformed lower left arm, being only half the size of the others it could only manage to reach their shoulder, forcing their arm out of place but not having quite enough force to break it.

The next punch was not as forgiving as the first, landing squarely in the man’s face, Wanderer felt the crunch as the slaver’s nose crumbled underneath their fist and heard a cry of pain emanate from their victim’s throat, but they did not stop.

The third punch came in with just as much power as the last, forcing the man thoroughly into unconsciousness as a few teeth flew from their mouth, and Wanderer knew that the next punch would be the last.

Yet it never arrived, as wrapped around Wanderer’s final arm was a steadfast vine of wood, one of the many tendrils of Emio.

“How dare they”, was the Golem’s first thought, the human deserved what he was getting and the world would surely be better off without him, so why would Emio get in their way.

Yet the emotions flowing through the verdestry (as shown by the movements of their body) were not those of righteous smugness nor want for pacifism, rather, Emio felt betrayed and angry that Wanderer was doing the very thing that they themselves had forbidden.

And with that realisation, the Vessel felt as if they had been thrown in a body of water far deeper and colder than any they had ever imagined, their whole body freezing as they came to terms with the ramifications of what they had done, how close they had come to breaking their oath, and how quickly they had been willing to throw it aside.

Horrified, Wanderer threw themself off the unmoving body, only now noticing that their own figure was coated with blood, much of it from the man they rescued, yet some of it was from their own efforts.

The Golem collapsed on the ground, back leaning against the cart as they entered a state of panic, mind whirling with conflicting emotions and uncertainty.

There was anger that they did not show restraint, fear of what they could be capable of, acceptance that humans were scared of them for good reason and a tiny piece of their mind that said that what they had done was right, was fair.

But life isnt fair, their Spirit provided in a resolute tone, as if they themselves had only just made up their mind on the situation.

At no point in Wanderer’s short life had anything been fair, not since the moment they had walked out of the cave, if the Golem truly wanted to be fair, they should show mercy to offset the injustice nature had shown them.

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The Vessel slowly stood on two shaking legs, “That makes sense, I suppose”, They thought.

Wanderer loved nature, it is what provided them with the greatest sense of adventure and exploration that they thrived upon, but they did not need to follow in its footsteps.

As much as nature was beautiful, it was cruel as well, constantly propelling those beholden to it to kill and destroy to survive, and if they did not submit, they were killed themselves.

Yet why would Wanderer have to take that example, already they had defied it with the oath they had so nearly broken, why not act as a stabiliser for its cruelty, to aim to aid instead of destroy.

Yet how could they say that, when not five steps away lay the broken body of the man they had so nearly beaten to death, one who had been consumed in well-deserved fear only moments ago?

“Perhaps it is my nature to destroy”, they dreaded.

The only other they had seen of their kind was a near embodiment of power and devastation, cutting down foes like grass, and the instant fear the humans felt when they faced Wanderer showed that the larger Golem was not a singular case.

And had not Wanderer resorted to violence every time they didn’t know what to do, they lashed out instinctively time and time again, against the magi, the fog-beast and the swarmlings.

Wanderer looked down upon their blood-covered arms, three long with armour-like banding and one shorter and inconsistent, all but the top right slightly deformed by the force of their blows.

The Golem spent a moment just standing there, clenching their hands into fists and relaxing them again, studying them as their mind slowly made its decision, a decision that involved the Vessel opening their satchel and taking one of the large, blue coins from inside.

They left it on a box on the cart, careful not to scare the two uninjured humans into doing something stupid, and stepped back ten steps, trying their hardest to look unthreatening.

At the sight of the coin, the human’s eyes lit up, apparently it was worth enough that the man atop the cart could overcome their fear of Wanderer and snatch it after just a few seconds of hesitation.

While their cautious eyes still rested on the Golem, they bowed once and began to leave, they didn't trust themself to not be a danger to others, it was best for them to remove themself from the situation and work things out as they did what they had always done, wander.

Without so much as looking back, Wanderer began down the long road, mind turning over recent events and filled with unresolved emotions.

Emio, who at some point abandoned their previous form and now resembled the grass surrounding them, took a place wrapped around Wanderer's shoulders, intently looking back onto the scene behind them.

The torches which were all burnt out before were now lit, and giving off an acrid smoke, replacing them likely being the intention of the slaver.

Feeling that they needed a distraction, Spirit brought a fact to notice, now that the roadside torches were burning, the telltale signs of ticks moving in the grass were nearly erased.

Wanderer chuckled a little in their mind, a grim chuckle, it seems the reason humans had deserted the road was because there were no torches to keep the ticks at bay.

Of course that raised the question of why those in the carriage were unharmed, likely something to do with the cold-generating ritual, the Golem guessed.

A flash of memory flowed through the Vessels mind, that of the slave's hot blood running down their body as they carried them to safety, hot blood dripping on cold clay.

“They sense heat”, Wanderer concluded.

At all times the creatures had ignored both Emio and the Golem entirely, yet when the man, who possessed the heat of his body was unprotected by the area of cold, they didn't hesitate in their ruthlessness.

But this solved mystery brought their mind back to the slave they had left behind, badly bandaged and unconscious, Wanderer had no idea whether they would live or die, and they could only hope their comrades would help them.

But they couldn't go back now, couldn't bring themself to, they needed to work out their mind and their actions.

And as the road stretched out before them, the group pressed forward, all in a great deal of turmoil.