“-the legend goes something like that anyway.” Joseph said as he ended his retelling of how the locals believed Iradel came to be. He bit a sizable chunk of savory meat off a skewer without so much as letting a single drop of fat fall.

Trevor had just finished his own skewer and took a long draught from the waterskin he had brought with him.

The two of them were sitting on crates behind the counter of Joseph’s stall warming themselves against the night's chill by the dying embers of the cookfires. There were several other vendors that had been with them, but they had all gone home complaining about their nagging wives. Being the two sole bachelors of the group, they had talked for a bit until Trevor asked about the local beliefs.

“Am I right to assume the ‘Devil’s gifts’ were the two great explosions?” Trevor asked as he set aside his stick and glanced at his carriage a stone’s throw away, listening for any grumbles that may come from his horse.

“That’s right.” Joseph replied, taking a swig from his own waterskin before continuing. “I recall hearing something from the Crusaders that it's most likely the forces of the blasts had so much energy in them that anything living was forced to change in the way it flowed through them.”

“Is that so? That seems a little far-fetched.”

“It’s just like how we eat isn’t it? The more we eat the fatter we get. Just think of it as though the same thing happened to the Carrions, only instantly.”

“I see. The logic does seem to support itself…” Trevor murmured still in half doubt.

“Well, I’ve only ever seen Carrions in pieces so I can’t say for sure.” Joseph shrugged. “What do the people in the Third City believe happened?”

“Ah, some of the religious faction say God sent two stars to fall on the Carrions. The men of chemistry such as myself though, do not wholly believe as much, they say a meteor came too close, split in two, and fell on the Carrions by coincidence. I’ve even heard tell of those who believe it was miraculous men of chemistry that made enormous explosive devices as weapons for the War and used them as you said in your telling.”

Joseph snorted in amusement, “As if mere humans could destroy half the world with two extra big firebombs.”

Trevor smiled as he replied, “Yes, I came to the same conclusion myself. It’s far more probable that a meteor fell, but whether it was guided by the hand of God I couldn’t say.”

“Oh that’s right, on the topic of queer rocks-” Joseph rummaged through the satchel at his feet, “-look at this.” He said, passing three smooth lustrous brown pebbles to Trevor.

“These are…?”

“…Pebbles. What else would they be?”

“No, no. I meant why would you show me these? There’s nothing special about them is there? I see them often enough along the nearby riverbed.”

Joseph showed a bitter smile, “I suppose they’re something like a taunt. Three days ago I was packing my things here at my stall when I thought I’d make my dinner here. Fire’s still lit, so why not you know?”

Trevor nodded as he listened, taking a swig from his waterskin.

“When I’m done I wrap it up and turn around to grab my satchel. The moment I stoop down I hear something clack, I turn back around; those rocks are sitting right where my sandwich was. Imagine my surprise to see it vanish into thin air. I searched around for a bit but found nothing, no footprints, no noise, not even a strand of hair. They even put as many pebbles as I charge for a sandwich. Makes matters worse when I find my empty stall rummaged through last night and the night before.”

Trevor chuckled lightly at his friend’s amusing misfortune, “Seems we have quite the cocky sandwich thief in our midst. I’ll keep an eye out for you when I can, but if you’d like I could spare some ingredients for a last laugh.”

Joseph leaned in with an interested expression, “Such as?”

“There’s a certain fungus called Mother’s Milk that grows only on the rotting bodies of Carrions. I’ve never tasted it obviously, but I hear it apparently tastes unbelievably sweet. Of course, that is before killing a person within the day. Many Crusading Archers buy bottles of the potent brewed version since it is cheap and surprisingly effective on Carrions even though it comes from their own bodies.”

Joseph’s face scrunched up as he sat upright, “Thank you, but no thank you. I’d rather not live on knowing I’ve killed a man who only steals food. I’d rather indirectly knock some sense into him to go and gather the moss on Iradel's bark like the rest of the lazier folk.”

“Then how about ground Vern seeds? They make an excellent medicine for a dry throat when boiled with milk and a bit of honey. Raw, however, gives a man a rather severe case of the runs.”

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The image of a dark clothed man sweating through his clothes and grabbing his ass as if his life depended on it flickered through Joseph’s mind.

Snickering to himself Joseph replied, “I’ll take that then, how much for several pinches worth?”

“It’d be six copper for a small pouch this size.” Trevor lifted his hand and made an ‘Okay’ gesture, “Four coppers if you’ve got your own pouch, but seeing as a friend is in need of vengeance, we’ll say three coppers with the pouch.”

“Hoh, that’s a fine discount. Then, if you would aid me in avenging my fallen meal, I would be most grateful.”

Joseph spread open the baggy pocket sewn on his pants and pressed three crudely shaped copper coins into Trevor’s open palm. The simple stamped tree on both sides of the coins caught the light of the fire and glimmered softly.

“Thank you for your patronage.” Trevor smiled as he slipped the coins into his own pocket and walked toward his carriage in the darkness.

A little while later he came back and tossed a small string tied leather pouch to Joseph. Peeking inside, Joseph sniffed the contents and put on a befuddled expression. “It smells a bit like crushed mustard seed.” He commented.

“Yes, one of the many reasons people fall victim to its effects more often than not.”

Having slipped the pouch into his pocket, Joseph chatted with Trevor about trivial things for a while longer until the quarter moon in the night sky outshone the dying embers beside them.

Saying their goodbyes, they parted ways. Trevor was staying in a cheap hotel where his wares and horse would be secure on the wagon while he searched for a more permanent residence, preferably one that could double as a shop. Joseph however, being a long-time resident, already had a home.

Though many would call it a large tool shed at first glance.

Being a mere single room abode, some would even call it a disgrace for such a prosperous town. More so since it was on the cusp of being recognized as the Fourth City.

Joseph walked home under the light of the oil lamps that dotted the sides of the empty main town road. Leaving the market in Crusader’s Square with his leftover wares on a pushcart in tow.

Upon seeing a fenced five-story building at the corner of the next intersection, Joseph slowed his pace. And, as if she had been looking outside from the window the entire time, a young woman in a nun’s garb hurried through the small yard and unlocked the front metal gate to greet him.

“Father Alfred and I were worried about you, Joseph. You’re usually always so punctual, you haven’t been plagued with troubles today have you?” The nun asked in unease as she looked up at him who stood a full two heads taller than her.

“Nothing of the sort.” Joseph merrily replied, waving off her concerns, “Unless you count making a new friend as trouble, Sister Wendy.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” The nun, Wendy, exclaimed with sincerity as she realized her worries were unfounded, but her eyes gleamed brightly immediately after, “Was it a woman?”

“He seemed like a good man.” Joseph replied to the gossip loving nun as she blushed under her own delusions, “A chemist by the name of Trevor, he seemed fairly skilled at his trade too.”

Joseph decided to ignore Wendy’s whisper of, ‘How disappointing… Unless?’ and continued to his original goal, “Not much leftover today; I’ve been seeing more unfamiliar Crusaders passing through. I wonder if the Carrions are moving in large hordes again.”

Wendy composed herself, her image now that of a proper young woman of the cloth, and aided Joseph in bringing the leftover perishable food inside. “That’s what Father Alfred had told me. There’s been so many foreign Crusaders coming to him and begging for blessings.” She replied, “Are the Carrions truly so ferocious?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Joseph shrugged, “Pieces and heads are all I’ve ever seen. They’re nightmare-inducing to look at if nothing else.”

Wendy hummed in contemplation. As there was not much, only two trips were needed to bring in the leftover food.

“Thank you as always.” Wendy said as she walked Joseph back to his cart. “I’m sorry Father Alfred isn’t here to say his thanks too. At his age he spends most of his time sleeping or struggling with laborious tasks.”

“It’s fine, Sister. I know of the Father’s ailments, even if he himself refuses to acknowledge them.”

Wendy gave a small laugh, “That is true. Just yesterday I caught Father Alfred attempting to draw water from the spigot only to double over heaving, claiming its rusted shut. Seconds later one of our older boys pumped it smoothly and carried the pail to the barrels. Father then claimed the boy must have been blessed with enormous strength and was fated to become a peerless warrior. He's already begun instructing him too.”

Joseph chuckled, shaking his head, “Father Alfred is quite the jester. As much as I’d like to continue talking, it's late and both of us need to be up at dawn. Have a goodnight Sister Wendy.”

“Yes, goodnight Brother.”

Bobbing their heads in an informal prayer, they bid each other farewell. Wendy hugged her elbows and hurriedly shut the door behind her to ward off the autumn chill. Joseph gathered up the rest of his strength and pushed his cart onward.

He walked until he reached the only part of town that still had single floor structures. If one were to look from above it would appear as if a village lived within a large town. A single communal spigot was surrounded by ten single room houses beside the town walls. Only four of them were regularly lived in by solitary folk like Joseph. The rest were used as getaway houses bought for the slightly wealthier parents to have a night of fun without interruption.

Parking his cart behind what could have passed for a large shack, Joseph unloaded only the ironware such as the iron grill he cooked on and the iron fork he cooked the slabs of meat with as they would rust with the morning dew.

Opening his door, he beheld all that he owned. A small bed, wardrobe, and table with several chairs. Setting the ironworks beside the wardrobe he wearily changed to his linen nightwear and washed his face with a pail on the table. Joseph had wanted to wipe himself down but that would have to wait for morning. He flopped into bed and in no time he was sleeping soundly. Wondering if he would have enough meat for the next day’s hungry Crusaders.