He detested their proximity nearly more than he detested the harlot, herself. Had he had his usual forethought; he’d have stopped himself from breaking this barrier between them and thus never opened the pandora’s box that was gestures of intimacy. Her hand was unnaturally wet and clammy- her eyes wide and excited as she dragged him and the small, fat man after her on the ‘grand tour’. As seen from afar; the village was an unimpressive visage- construed entirely from animal skins, pitch-black bricks and the odd tarp. Curiously, in the middle of the sixty or so hovels, a well had been construed- a circular construct of scorched bricks that confounded Asrael every time the girl’s hurried journey brought them anywhere close to it. They were in the Blighted Lands- far away from any aquifer. Why, then, would these desert-folk construe a well? It was clear to him that Neda intended to parade her companions off and suckle down every drop of pride she could from the envy in her peers’ glares, but this was not the productive venture he had sought.
“This is where we-… they keep their food, water and the supplies that can’t be out in the sun.” She said and motioned for the tall, black-brick building covered up to half its height in a thick blanket of dust. Men, women and children walked the well-trampled path in- and out of the structure carrying buckets of milk in and buckets of what appeared to be water, out. He had seen them as they approached, the dustgoats out in the large, fenced-in area a stone’s throw away from their village. The large, bleeting, fat, white maggots had eaten greedily of the dust and sand and extracted whatever nutrients they could gain from the blight... an impressive beast- one perfectly adjusted for living out in the dust, as opposed to their frail, human bodies. Standing there, ahead of the brick building; Asrael imagined he’d rather be with the oversized maggots than spend another minute listening to his female companion.
“Commander...” An old, creaking voice sounded from behind. Asrael exhaled and turned around to face the ancient woman approaching them from amidst her four large, bare-chested, sword-wielding guards. The old woman’s face was a mess of wrinkles and warts- a price all who toiled beneath the sun would eventually pay, should they be fortunate enough to reach such an advanced age. Neda fell to a knee and urged for Asrael to follow after her by insistently dragging on his fingers. The Necromancer’s disgust returned in a pulse that earned his companion a stern kick to her knee.
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“Get up, girl. You bow to none save me.” Neda’s jaw fell agape- the hands of the guardsmen tightened around the hilts of their blades. He dragged her to her feet and ignored this ‘Majuseth’s hand gesturing for her men to stand down. The old woman smiled her kindly, bared-gums grin and spoke; “Commander Kerras, I presume? It’s been a while since one of your men have come through here... I’m sorry, but we’ve no children to-” Asrael raised an accusatory finger to her and spoke.
“Nevermind children. I am here to have you answer my questions.” He warned. It seemed by the glares that the men were far from as patient as the old woman was, but they kept their blades holstered despite their aggression. Majuseth cocked her head and nodded.
“A chat, then. How lovely... Gendler, please- put on a kettle. Theramus, set the table and go round up some wheat. Come, Commander- you must be exhausted from your journey. Please join us in my Yurt; I insist.” Asrael felt a measure of hope for humanity as he heard the woman’s invitation- it seemed that hospitality was still a thing in this perverted world of theirs.
He was about to follow after the ancient woman, when a tugging on his right hand momentarily stopped his gait and had him face the suspiciously glaring, timid Neda whose soft voice whispered; “We don’t have wheat out here... we don’t need it. I think-” Asrael scoffed in her face and shook his head at the foolish girl.
He muttered in kind; “You are here to camouflage me, not think.” She seemed to disapprove, but she would be a fool to demonize the man in the middle of their camp- especially after parading him around the village under the guise of being a happy couple of greenlanders. Still... as she followed next to her companions; she could not help but feel as if something was horrendously off about the village.