A burnt orange and red color streaked the evening sky. 669 followed his henchmen companions down Greendale Village's main cobblestone street, where many harse trawling carriages and litters casually trotted past them. They weaved their way through a crowd of people in fine suits, armor and work clothes, gowns and dresses, with their focus toward the three steeple roof building at the street's end.
“Hey, 777, you don't think the Royal Guard wants to involve us more with their work?” 789 grumbled, hoping it wouldn't be the case, and they just wanted to see them for questions.
The thought made 669's head hurt, but they were henchmen not law enforcers. Perhaps the chances were low.
“We follow the will of our masters. So Shiyan will bear the consequences for making our decisions.”
“Relax. We're just going to be their escorts.” 669 patted 789’s back to give her reassurance.
“Okay then.”
Everyone kept their many other questions to themselves as they strolled down the street to the building. They approached the tall iron gate where two guards were standing watch on either side.
“State your business,” one guard said.
“We've been asked to see Detective Morse and Constable Rice.” 777 answered on their behalf.
There was a moment of silence as the guards checked on a mirror tablet to confirm.
“Yes. That is confirmed. Please continue to the first floor where the officers will greet you.”
But they didn’t have the chance to reach the glass doors entrance when they saw Morse and Rice ambling down the large main steps, through the milling crowd, to approach them.
Detective Morse made a gesticulation to do an about-face and head for a side gate.
“We’re in a hurry?” 669 asked.
“Just be a good playboy and follow,” Emelia offhandedly said over her shoulder.
He made grumbling noises but kept his words to himself as he followed the officer’s leads out of the side gate, down a gravel path that opened into a clearing where carriages, litters and a stable of harse were resting.
They headed for the white fur harse tethered to a modest wood and silver six seat carriage. It was waiting patiently in the middle of the clearing.
“Milady, lord. I await your orders.” The harse cordially acknowledged the officers with a bow.
669 stifled a chuckle and thought, that the harse would make a good match with Spartacus. This white harse had pretty blue eyes and silky sheen to their furs. He refocused his thoughts to work as he followed the others into the carriage and assumed a center at the window, opposite Emelia.
“So, are you just going to look pretty sitting there?” she solemnly said to him.
“Right.” He got the hint and began to focus on his breathing rhythm, so his mind was being pulled into his inner vision. His sight switched to an inverted image of the world, where he narrowed down to particle streams surrounding them. He honed in on the lively clusters of black and red particles that represented parasitic organisms: linked his signature virya energy to the parasites, where he controlled their purpose and flow with mutual understanding of forming a silver spider web that was hauled over the carriage and harse to wrap around it. The harse and carriage glowed briefly to confirm the barrier protection he had cast.
“One set order of barrier served.” He huffed and wiped off beads of sweat from his face with a handkerchief.
“Here.” Detective Morse tossed an orange pill at him, which fumbled about 669’s hands before he could shove it in his mouth.
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669 relished the instant uplift of external virya flowing through his bodies to replenish his energies. “Thanks.”
The carriage ride became an atmosphere of contemplative silence, as the harse carried them along dirt roads through fields of long grass, watercress paddocks and along rolling hills dotted with grazing farm animals. 777 cast his eyes to his view of the sky and saw the moon’s shape as a faded dot in the reddish evening sky. It was a waxing crescent.
“Damn. Waxing crescent.” He sighed.
“Still having to deal with your cosmic curse?” Detective Morse soberly asked.
“Unfortunately, I was born this way, Majestic Will or not. Not even the HM’s can stop it.”
“Strange. They control our fates and allegiances, yet we still find loopholes.”
“Hah! So are you going to be a good law enforcer and plug those holes?” 777 joked and laughed at the man’s scowl.
“Silly. That’s not our problem, is it? Besides, we do have the Blood Gem loopholes too, which our deities allow.”
“Or more like they have no power to overthrow them,” 669 nonchalantly commented.
“True. How they come to exist with Evernight Cosmic power is a mystery? But that’s not one we need to worry about solving.”
“Master, we’re about to arrive near the Greendale Border Gates.” The harse’s voice carried within the carriage.
“Thank you, Orchid.”
Night was high in the sky by the time they stopped and hopped out of the carriage.
669 frowned when he saw a normal scene of people wandering a clean, cobblestone street with paved and brick rectangular buildings, showing no signs of damage other than wear and tear. The people were casual, cordial and clearly wandering in their own headspaces. There were little conversations other than the necessary expressions of manner, interests or bartering at market street carts that lined the streets and were set up within the square courtyard at the far end.
But the entire time he walked toward the streets behind the royal guards, he felt heated gazes and keen watch of their coming and goings.
“It’s likely the Justice of Peace Knights are keeping watch of us.” Emelia casually noted like it was nothing special, but her body was too upright and tense as she walked.
“Right.”
669’s thoughts delved into memories of some encounters he had had with the Holy Order’s version of the Royal Guard. Unlike the Royal Guards, who rather negotiate and tailor punishments to fit the individual crime: Justice of Peace Knights were a strict, tending to handle their justice with one, on the spot, verdict. It didn’t matter if a thief stole a loaf of bread to survive hunger or a priceless jewel neckless for the thrills. A thief was a thief. Being a thief wasn’t a Majestic Will but a moral corruption, so the punishment was severe: there were a lot of hangings within the Holy Order.
They soon entered into the village’s market square, which acted as both a trading port and border between the Holy Order and Demon Domination kingdoms. Toward the market square’s end, and sitting on the dividing line was a large, circular, tavern that was twelve levels tall. The tavern’s levels spiraled upward to form a sharp steeple where a bell was visible within the spire.
The group headed for the tavern without stopping and stepped through the doors to see a lively scene of patrons eating at round tables dotting the opened area. People came and went along winding staircases that wrapped around the main dining area and behind the central and round bar area.
Detective Morse placed his clover badge on the bar counter before a bartender who was dressed in an unmarked business black suit. “I have business at the border.”
669 gulped at the frightful sight of the server who was at least six foot of reddish muscle where the black veins were so visible it looked like they would burst upon being flexed. His head was almost a resemblance of a bull with dark horns and small ears. The tavern’s servers were also the border security and clerks, so they all had the power to pummel heads with their fists should the other party be trouble. Immigration checks were handled at the bar area, since it was the place peopled visited first in town for food and relaxation. It just made the whole process smoother to server their papers and meals at the same time.
The clerk picked up the badge and ran a palm over it, casting an information spell to discern the truth.
“Yes. That is genuine. If y’all head through the left exit where you’ll be marked by a JP ensign.” He handed the badge back.
They made their way to the exit. But, 669 couldn’t shake the feeling that a pair of eyes had been trailing his move from the moment he left the carriage. He activated his inner vision with attempts to lock onto a possible busybody. He glimpsed the shadow of a slim figure loitering around the eaves of a nearby doorway. The figure appeared to be watching, but the appearance was blurred beyond recognition. That meant there was a stronger power protecting the person’s identity. A feeling of intuition stirred a shiver through his body, but there wasn’t much he could do about it at the moment. So he switched back to his physical vision and continued to play dumb to being stalked.