Discussion of details was left for later. At least until Sunday could find someone to put the work onto. He still felt tired, which was unlike him after sleep and dreaming of the yew tree. It felt human. Perhaps an after-effect of the buff, although the fatigue from the first time, when he had lost himself, hadn’t lasted nearly as long.

He eventually excused himself, after pointedly throwing suggestive glances at Mera similar to a child who wanted to go home. The spell-fused agreed, whisking him away under the scrutiny of the many vampires, and the watchful gaze of the strange Baron. The sooner Sunday forgot those eyes that seemed to look at him like a ladder to a crown, rather than a simple lost undead with strange hobbies, the better.

Traveling with Mera’s ability was not fun. The Mesmer Steel felt like it would crush him as it wrapped around his body and suddenly, he was not in control. A leaf in the wind or a trash bag in the sea searching for a dolphin to choke. That’s how Sunday felt. It reminded him of Chaotic Step – the hateful talent that pissed him off to high-heaven and made him wish to fight whoever had decided ‘Hey, that’s a good one to give the fool!’

It was all over soon, at least, and they appeared in Mera’s lair under the Wayward Rat. Sunday stifled the curses that wanted to pour out of him. It had been a busy few days.

He sat down on a rock formation that looked particularly comfortable and clapped his hands on his face.

“My friend, my brother, my idol,” a voice said from behind him. An immovable arm draped on his shoulders like a steel brace. It was not heavy, but it was immovable. Strange how that worked.

Oh no.

“Idol?” Sunday groaned.

“But of course! To walk into the lairs of the –” Kallus’s voice quivered, “vampires, thrash two lords, mock them to their faces, fight nightmarish beasts, and survive richer for it… you’re a legend bro!”

Of course, he knew it all. Perhaps Mera was not as stoic and sophisticated as she appeared. Blabbermouth.

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Ah, it will come!” the wight said cheerfully. He was suddenly sprawled next to Sunday, balancing on a pointy bit of rock. It looked quite painful to sit on, but Kallus was all smiles. “The first time I served as a hero of the city, cherishing the strength given to me, and giving back to the people, I felt the same. It took time to realize that their silent adoration was there and that each of my deeds had left a mark upon Blumwin, comparable to the lake itself, the scent of flowers, or the various liquors we so love and enjoy. I’m a staple in the hearts of people.”

Sunday looked around for Mera. Had she stayed behind? Was that even an option? Her ability was proving more busted by the day, and he hadn’t even seen her fight. Do I want to see her fight? He shuddered.

More because being underground alone with Kallus was one of his newest fears, and it was becoming a reality. The wight made him uncomfortable. Like a sneeze, you couldn’t quite let go of; a strange sensation of something taking an iron nail to your synapses and drawing shapes with it.

“To be a hero,” Kallus continued, now dangling from a small rock shelf protruding from the wall above Sunday, “is a calling. Not a simple trick of fate, or something you chose. One is born a hero, and we have been chosen!”

You don’t know the least of it.

“I’ve always seen myself as the main character. That’s what my first love, a simple farmer girl who loved chasing me with a shovel, said. And it stuck with me, you know? She said that I live like I’m the lead character in a play and all revolves around me. She was so passionate about it! Ah! Tears in her eyes, wind in her hair, swinging that shovel with the power of love. It fizzled out in time, as love often does. It was tragic, but we both knew we lived in different worlds.”

She called you a narcissist and tried to murder you, you goddamn lunatic. And she was right to do so. The sense of kinship Sunday felt for the farmer girl was surprising. He wished her the best and felt a healthy amount of jealousy that she was rid of Kallus.

Even a few minutes of the guy was enough to last a lifetime.

“However, just this once, I don’t mind being the support of the lead,” the wight whispered in Sunday's ear, suddenly embracing him again.

“Am I the lead?” God, no.

“Yes!” the wight clapped enthusiastically, spinning on his heel and ending in a crouch before Sunday. “We’ll do great things together! Marvelous things!”

I wonder if the moths can melt him. Murder seems to be the only actual solution to problems in this world. Quite practical, but troublesome.

“Oh, I forgot! There’s a guy that’s been asking about you for the past three days. I told him you’re battling the bloodsuckers and nightmares, and that his ugly mug is not welcome without an appointment. I’d have fought him, but Riya stopped me…” the wight sulked at that last part.

“What guy?” Another bearer of troublesome news? Vyn? No, Kallus knows Vyn very well. Too well, considering he’s lusting after his sister. Suddenly many things made sense. Perhaps that infamous sister had fled because of the guy. It was not out of the question.

“He introduced himself, but he was unimportant you see. Cold guy, with no passion, no charm like myself. There’s also a mean woman who’s been drinking for four days. She has those two dumb bastards with her, and she’s been talking about beating your ass… You know, you shouldn’t mess with women.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Sunday groaned. Tell me about it, man.

“Alright, let’s go. Get it all over with.”

Kallus smiled, jumped up as if gravity was a suggestion and not a rule, and started leading the way.

“I have a way with women, you know? I can help. There was this one seamstress in the craft district. A bit older, two kids. Her husband was not fond of me at first, but he came to appreciate me in time. It was a marvelous adventure we shared…”

Sunday tried to tune out the babbling of Kallus. What was with guys telling him about their love conquests? He briefly considered aiming Kallus’ chattiness toward Vyn. The two of them seemed perfectly capable of discussing the intricacies of romance. However, he needed Vyn to make things work. He needed people.

The mean woman Kallus had mentioned was probably Savia. It was not like Sunday had given her a choice in what had transpired, and he felt guilty about it. But considering his suddenly amazing relationship with the Baron, things were looking good.

And she was competent. He could see that. She knew how to work things. Vyn, on the other hand, could manage the Empty Manor kids.

And Sunday… Sunday would reap the lion’s share of profits and deal with the troublesome things that popped up. As long as he found the prophet and slapped the faith out of them, and as long as he didn’t hurt the Hunter’s feelings anymore, things could go back to normal.

Building a life for himself. Traveling from time to time. Figuring things out.

He smirked in mockery at the thoughts. There was no calmness for one such as him. The prophet was probably just the beginning of all the bullshit he would have to deal with. A step on a ladder that led to headaches the likes of which Old Rud could’ve only hoped to bring to the orphans.

Kallus led him through the tunnels, the basement, and into the main room. Quite a few patrons were sitting about, and the light coming from the windows and the door that was cracked open signified it was afternoon.

The first thing Sunday’s eyes found was Kloud. The investigator sat alone at a table in the center of the room, cradling a cup with closed eyes. There was no one else with him, but that didn’t alleviate Sunday’s nerves.

The mage’s eyes shot open and met Sundays. Evaluating. No surprise, nor a flicker of recognition for Sunday’s improved rank passed through them. Instead, the man nodded. Sunday nodded back. He saw Savia and her two goons sitting in the shadowy corner. Riya was there and gave him an encouraging smile.

First things first I guess. Sunday sat opposite Kloud and frowned as Kallus spun a chair and sat with his head leaning on the backrest. It was not one of the empty chairs on the table, but another one. Stolen from a different corner of the room, for some inexplicable reason.

“Sunday,” Kloud began, “I’ve been trying to find you, but your associates informed me you were busy with… vampires?”

“Yep. What do you need me for?” Straight to the point. I like this.

“There’s a small issue with those you… knocked down?” the last part was spoken as a question, but the man continued before Sunday could react. “We were preparing to burn them and inform the families of those we managed to identify. However, it seems that apart from a few, all are rid of corruption. Do you understand?”

“Oh.” Oh, fuck. Did they almost burn the innocent people because I forgot to tell them?! Shit, shit, shit.

“My bro is amazing like that, weirdo,” Kallus said from the side. There was a piece of roast meat in his hand, dangling for dear life. On a table far from them someone was yelling that his food was gone. “My bro slaps the insanity away from people. He even slapped me!”

“Is that so? It doesn’t seem to have worked with you,” Kloud said dryly, before moving his attention back on Sunday. “Is what the wight saying true?”

“Are you calling me an insane liar?!” The wight exclaimed in mock shock. Then grinned. Did he know he was an insane liar? Was that an admission?

Sunday cleared his throat. “I may have forgotten to mention it.”

Kloud frowned. Something the man hadn’t done quite a lot during their brief acquaintance. He seemed to taste the next word carefully, rolling them around his mouth.

“I understand that divulging your strange abilities is against your desires. I don’t blame you. However, this is unprecedented. There has been no case of someone curing people of Divine corruption. Not with violence, not with healing, not with hours of work,” he said. “We almost killed tens of innocent people…”

The last part stung. Sunday shuffled uncomfortably in his chair, all his thoughts of being witty or standoffish gone. This was big. I’m not used to carrying such responsibilities… I didn’t think about it. Damn.

“Is it too late for that lawyer?” he mumbled.

“For the second time, I don’t know what that is. What we need to know is… are those people truly cured?”

Sunday remained silent for a few moments. A piece of dark red caught his attention. It was woven in the wooden patterns on the table, almost unnoticeable, but it was definitely Mesmer Steel. Was Mera listening in to this conversation too? He didn’t mind.

Sunday straightened up. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I have many strange abilities, and to be quite frank, I don’t know how they work. I don’t know if it’s a momentary thing or if they’re rid of it for good. The proprietor of this establishment has kept a few similar ones under lock. She could tell you more since I haven’t had the time to study the effect my… slaps… had on them.”

“Your slaps?” Kloud repeated. He sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I see. We’ll keep observing them. You’ve done a lot for the city, so we’re being very lenient. Typically, I’d have to keep you under watch in the Arcanum for quite a long time, but… You have backing. It is my understanding that you’ve had a conflict with the vampire lords, and the fact that you stand before me like this is proof enough that you’re capable of resolving it yourself. You should consider changing your clothes though.”

Sunday’s eyes widened. He was used to wearing rags and hadn’t thought about it at all. However, his shirt and pants were little less than a suggestion of clothing at this point, hanging about him and doing the opposite of what they were supposed to.

“I think it’s fashionable,” Kallus said from behind.

Sunday ignored him.

“I’d love it if you could visit us in the coming days. Informally,” Kloud said as he stood up. “And one last thing. Sotu Ariveri has issued a formal complaint against you, demanding you be stripped of your membership and that all spells given to you be taken back. Typically, such infractions are dealt with within the Arcanum with a mediator, but Mr. Ariveri has quite the back and the issue has been escalated by his employer. It has devolved due to your silence on the matter, and our leniency. There will be a hearing in the coming days.”

Sotu… that worthless mage I slapped? Motherfucker. The anger got rid of all thoughts of guilt and Sunday bared his teeth. It was a good thing, anger. It made all else seem… unimportant. The Arcanum were drunk if they thought he cared about them too, but maybe entertaining the situation was good for his future dealings with them.

“It seems I didn’t slap him hard enough.”

Kloud’s eyebrows shot up, and Kallus giggled. This time he was behind the mage, juggling a cup and a boiled egg. He seemed to be in quite a great mood.

“So, what are my options if a lawyer isn’t one? Can I just fight him?” Kicking ass is the best currency in this place, after all.

“You can request a duel during the hearing…” Kloud said. “It will complicate things further, and you will make new enemies.”

Sunday smiled. Having violence as an option was always great.