CHAPTER 10: A NEW ACQUAINTANCE AND INTERNAL CONFLICTS (1)
...Under the dim glow of crimson skies, I crawled amidst a multitude of bizarre and grotesque corpses. Everything appeared so vast and unfamiliar. Also, dangerous. Someone's paw snatches a rat-like, scaly creature crawling nearby. I hear its dying squeals, squelching, and the crunch of bones being crushed. Sweet emanations of death waft through the air. In horror, I cower in the gap between rocks.
But hunger is stronger than fear. Soon, emerging from my hiding place, I sink my fangs into the enticing flesh of one of the bodies.
...I run across the dark crimson earth overgrown with black vegetation. My pursuer is much stronger than me and will easily tear me apart if caught. But I am smarter. With a sudden jerk, I slip between the boulders lying nearby and emerge on the other side. Beyond the reach of the predator camouflaged as a bush. And the pursuer, resembling a skinny, hairless demon covered in tattered fur, is too large to replicate this maneuver and too dull to suspect foul play. It charges headlong and falls right into the embrace of the plant. It entwines the victim with numerous tendrils and releases digestive enzymes, beginning to devour it alive.
I relish in the dying cries.
...I, on the other hand, pursue the victim, systematically driving it into the trap. This time, everything around me seems to have shrunk (or have I grown?). The creature, resembling a plump, horned ape, accelerates, sensing the possibility of breaking free. But it falls with a cry, having stepped on one of the many thorns that line the "path to freedom." With a swift motion, I jump towards the disoriented victim, which is not a threat to me due to the poison, and sink my fangs into its throat. A spicy taste of blood floods my mouth. The emanations of horror and death intoxicate me, and warmth courses through my body as I absorb the essence.
How sweet!
***
Startled, I opened my eyes. The first few seconds after waking from such a realistic dream refused to release their hold. Images of the crimson world still burned in my memory, and a strange aftertaste lingered in my mouth. Grimacing, I shook my head and ran my tongue along my teeth.
"What bad luck... Instead of pleasant dreams, like relaxing by the seaside or, at the very least, a dream of clearing out Base officers, I get dreams of a scavenger demon's life! Fantastic! Thanks to you, subconscious, for these wonderful nightmares!"
Throwing off the blanket, I noticed that, once again, I had woken up earlier than everyone else. Complaining about the lack of a clock like Natal's, I headed for my morning routines and exercises.
As the dawn broke, I completed my spar with a shadow. Sheathing my blade and admiring the crimson and golden clouds, I began to contemplate what to do next.
The painless trance limit had already been used up. Thinking and making plans? I wasn't in the mood for it, and, frankly, it didn't seem all that useful at the moment. I had rough outlines in mind, and I'd need more information for anything more detailed. I thoughtfully scratched my chin. Flipping through Kei's manga wasn't appealing, nor was translating song lyrics. I had already translated a few and now used them to replace my playlist, occasionally singing along on patrol.
"Speaking of music... and musicians. Why not check on the heroically saved blonde if she's not asleep? She shouldn't be," I pondered. Unlike us layabouts, artists have to manage and take care of their own horses, prepare breakfast, and so on.
Even if Eris is not involved in the work, fuss will wake her up.
As expected, there was already a campfire burning near the troupe's caravan, and nearby, an unfamiliar character of indeterminate age was idling. His had a slightly crooked, cunning nose and a disheveled mop of dark hair. He reminded me of an older, worn-out version of Kei Li, bitten the "green snake." Unlike Eris, who didn't look like a stereotypical wandering artist at all, the old alcoholic was just like that.
This individual was clad in a faded light-red shirt with embroidery, black trousers, and a dark brown vest. Both his clothing and the man himself seemed to have seen better days, a fact that was accentuated by his mismatched, beaten-up boots. He was tending to a sizable pot on a tripod, gazing at it with the mournful look of someone suffering from a hangover.
"Good morning," I greeted. "Are you one of the artists?"
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
"There's no such thing as a good morning, damn it!" the man grumbled discontentedly, his voice rough. He reluctantly tore his gaze away from the pot and continued, "What can I... I mean, hello, ma'am!" He corrected himself, recognizing one of the "bloodthirsty" graduates of the combat temple.
Somehow, my heroic reputation had transformed into "they're like monsters themselves!" Not everyone thought this way, but judging from conversations overheard during patrols, some of the caravan folks did.
"How can I be of service?" the red-nosed man asked, now on his feet.
"Eris invited me over yesterday, so I thought I'd drop by. Or did I come too early?"
"No, I'll call her right now," the man replied, heading towards the caravan. "Eris! It's that, um, the lady, you know," he whispered, adding quietly, "from these thugs."
"Robbie! How many times do I have to tell you not to insult our protectors?"
Five minutes later, having gathered herself and chastised the hungover man, the blonde woman emerged and greeted the world and me.
"Ugh," the girl yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. This time, she appeared in brown trousers and a white shirt with lace trim. "Good morning, Kurome. I didn't expect you to pay such an early visit."
"Hello to you too. I didn't expect it myself," I shrugged. "I woke up earlier than usual, so I thought I'd drop by. I hope I'm not disturbing you too much? By the way, how are you feeling? You didn't catch a cold yesterday, did you?"
"Thank you, I'm fine," she replied, gracing me with a bright smile. "I'm glad to see you, Kurome," her smile turned slightly embarrassed. "But I don't even have anything to offer you. I thought you'd come later, in the evening, when we reach the Southern Gate Fortress. I could have bought something or invited you to a café. Right now, all we have are some tasteless crackers and tea," the girl made a disdainful face. "If you can even call it tea."
"If you'd like, I can share mine, and there's a bit of cookies for something sweet," I offered, realizing I had slipped up. I bit my tongue, but what's said is said. After all, despite the urges of greed, the strategic stock of "Dark Side cookies" could be replenished in the city. If she doesn't refuse, I'll share a bit of the treats.
Two.
One for me and one for her.
Eris, contrary to my subconscious hopes, didn't decline the sweets. After a few minutes, a metal kettle was placed over the fire next to the pot, and I, temporarily forgetting all my problems and plans, half-closed my eyes and listened to the blonde girl's chatter. The scent of smoke, the warmth of the campfire, and the girl's voice brought back pleasant memories of gatherings with Akame, when we would chat about various things, sitting by the fire after training.
"Aren't you listening to me?" a slightly offended voice from Eris brought me out of my relaxed contemplative state.
"I'm listening," I replied with a slight smile, "just remembering something nice. You were telling me about the autumn festival you're heading to, and before that, about how you got scared by a hedgehog that climbed into your bag."
"Something nice? Will you share?" Her bright green eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Is it about a guy?"
"No. I'm attracted to cute girls. Like you," my lips whispered in her ear as I approached from behind.
"Oh!" she startled, almost stumbling, but my hands on her waist kept her from falling. "K-Kurome, what are you doing? People are watching us," Eris whispered, blushing. "We can't do this."
"Watch us do what?" I wondered. "We didn't do anything. But if you want..." my hands slowly started moving upward.
"It's amusing how easily I can embarrass her, but something's come over me," I thought as I returned to my seat. The blushing girl muttered disapprovingly to herself about newfangled ideas and the impropriety of challenging established norms.
"Alright, alright, I won't tease you anymore, or you'll boil over before the kettle," I chuckled. "You just blush so cutely and innocently that it's hard for me to resist."
"..." Eris fell silent, pouting, her arms crossed beneath her chest, making it clear she was offended.
"Well, don't be upset, I didn't intend to bother you seriously, just joking. If it annoys you or hurts you, I won't do it anymore," I reassured her.
"I know, and I'm not upset, b-but your jokes are a bit embarrassing," the girl admitted, accepting my apology. "And people are watching," she added, looking around. "What might they think of us? You shouldn't joke like that."
"It's all the influence of a certain troublemaker in my team," I shifted the blame to our squad's joker. "He just can't live without jokes and teasing, and I caught some of it," I shrugged. "I'll try to restrain myself in public, if it makes you uncomfortable. By the way, the water's boiling," I pointed out as steam rose from the kettle.
"Oh! I completely forgot about the teapot!" the green-eyed girl said, hurrying into the carriage. "Here," she presented a white ceramic teapot with a long spout. "We'll make tea properly now."
After Eris waited for the water to cool down a bit (you can't brew tea with boiling water!), and then carefully prepared the teapot and the tea leaves, we moved a few meters away so as not to disturb the other artists, and settled down on a spread-out blanket. The blonde girl happily drank her tea with cookies, sharing stories about her life in the Capital and her journey with the troupe. However, the girl turned out to be not as trusting as she initially seemed. She didn't share many details, and she didn't use real names, speaking in general terms.
As I suspected, the hapless traveler was home-schooled and had little interaction with her peers. That's why she appeared different from most noble girls. Apparently, due to a lack of social contacts, she hadn't acquired the arrogance and other "charming" traits of the Capital's aristocracy.
Eris's mother came from an old noble family and died when Eris was five. Her father, a successful tycoon, a descendant of a wealthy businessman who bought the nobility, entrusted her upbringing with tutors and governesses, rarely communicating with her himself. Interestingly, according to the girl, her mother's family had fallen out of favor about eleven years ago, around the time of the previous Emperor's death.
Did they lose the power struggle?
After Eris turned sixteen, her loving (for money) father informed her that her wedding to the son of one of his business partners would take place in a month. Seeing her future groom, the girl was horrified and decided to run away. If she were caught and brought back to her bright-eyed parents, who had good connections in the police, it would be the end of her. But she was lucky to encounter a Hunter. The elderly leader of the troupe of artists turned out to be a bastard from her mother's family, with whom her mother had maintained good relations, and, succumbing to persuasion, he agreed to take Eris into the troupe as a minstrel.
Such was her Santa Barbara.