“I must apologize for approaching you like this, but there appears to be a small issue, you understand. There simply was not sufficient time to assign plots to all candidates who had won the lottery for operation in this area, and we have no choice but to approach you as the owner of the property for counsel,” he explained, the salesman-like personage slipping quickly as the voice of someone clearly under more stress than they are used to bled through. Zel was certain that besides her, his well-practiced facade fooled most of those present, but she could damn near feel the nervosity radiating from him.
After a few seconds of deliberation, a simple idea sprung from the words that the young man himself had said: “Another lottery should be fair, no? I’d be willing to do the drawing for you, but you’ll have to handle registration yourselves.”
“I- Yes, that would be the fairest manner of determining plot assignment!” he nodded, somewhat surprised. He had probably expected her to auction off the lots or something similarly money grubbing. “There could’ve been some issues with awkward placement, but we prioritized assigning plots with such potential for problems while we sailed, so a lottery will work. I will have the lots and your fee collected in… Perhaps an hour, is that alright?”
It wouldn’t have been under other circumstances, but now, it was…
“Fine.”
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“When he wakes, the environmental shock alone-”
“-will set off a chain reaction, accelerating the recirculation of essentia and causing a great resurgence of arcane beasts, perhaps even waking things long-buried. I know. Until I am certain that his waking will cause such a thing, however, I am bound by vow. I couldn’t take up my spear even if I wanted to.”
“Look, I ain’t askin’ you to break your vows, just-”
“What? Pray for them? You mean how I’ve been doing ever since those two stepped into my shop?”
“I… None of my thanks are sufficient, Kanbu.”
“Then abstain from drink until the earthen beast’s waking. I will consider it thanks enough.”
“I will.”
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Sodan had briefly thought that, perhaps, the overt manhunt for two senators might’ve been the sign to leave the city, but as sure as clockwork, one of the governor’s agents had gone out of his way to hunt him down just to tell him it wasn’t the case.
In fact, it was the same bearded faux-drunk that had given him his glasses, with his fake stumbling gait and fake crippled veteran persona. Sodan knew who it was. The Blazing Beast of Gerhodan, the Hidden Great General, one among the small few the Sage would’ve entrusted with his legacy.
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The face he wore was not his first, second, third, or even fourth, but the voice was always the same. He seemed awfully eager to leave after damn-near cornering Sodan in that back alley, but the Steel Comet got off one question that made the counter-propagandist stop dead.
“Do you really believe this Newman figure to be the Sage’s successor?”
“No… But I trust her to be one amongst those to carry on what he could not,” Strolvath answered, walking past him deeper into the alleyway.
“Really? You think she can unburn all those homes?” a bitter, choked growl slipped out between the Steel Comet’s teeth as he turned on his heel to grab Strolvath’s shoulder. The agent slowly turned his head, looking back with the same melancholy. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small steel box, still bearing the faded label of an obscure, out-of-production mint candy brand from Sodan’s hometown. It rattled uncharacteristically.
Handing it over, he said grimly, “Nothing can undo the past, I know so better than anyone. We just have to live with it and try to build something better. Spreading knowledge of cultivation to the common man is as good a start as there can be.”
It was a more direct answer than Strake had deigned to hope for from that man, and satisfied with it, he continued to wait for the sign.
When it at last came, heralded by a great gathering of people around the gate, when at last the lilac lights ripped across the sky... Sodan was already gone from the city, well on his way to rally-point Alpha.
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It was a shame that he wouldn’t get to see the caravan’s arrival in full, he’d always wanted to watch it. Alas, it couldn’t be helped. Having vanished into the forest, Strake used his own sense of direction in conjunction with a map to reach the first rallying point well before his partner’s arrival, leaving him more than enough time to sort through the supply drop.
A short while passed. Sodan had just sat, idly chewing a piece of blue jerky, only bothering to perk up when he finally heard footsteps and the subtle sound of inquisitorial plate armor. It was barely audible to the untrained ear, but Sodan recognized it instantly.
She certainly looked the part, her armor charred and twisted, devoid of holy iconography, her face unmasked and scarred, with hazel eyes and short, fluffy rusty-brown hair. Something felt familiar about that face, like he’d seen it before, but he couldn’t place it. A rough cloak of oiled fabric hung from her shoulders, on her waist a large pistol and a twisted sword with an elaborate briar-themed crossguard wound around a blue gemstone.
Besides a brief greeting and exchange of names, they did not speak. Not at the rallying point, and not for the rest of the day, besides occasional short exchanges regarding navigation. It felt like being judged every time she looked at him, at least for a while, subsiding only somewhat by the time the sun had gone down and they had made camp for the night. Their campsite was shielded from the north by the outer edge of a building-sized crater, from the south and east by the outside of a great gash in the earth, and from the west by a bunch of wood and detritus that Sodan had gone out of his way to pile up.
They both slept a little over six hours and ate food they had bought in the city, instead of the long-lasting but barely-palatable rations they’d been given. Sure there was fruit and some other quality of life items, but the vast bulk of it was the eternal mainstay of dry meat and biscuit bread.