“Look, I promise I’m not suspicious,” Walter said.

“Something a suspicious person would say,” Gom replied.

Walter rolled his eyes. “Anything I said right now would be suspicious. I could say cats were falling out of the sky and you’d be suspicious.”

“Well I don’t know what a cat is, so you’d be right,” Gom answered, squinting his eyes. “It’s strange, though. Because all my Sight can see is that you’re a normal traveler. But nothing about you is normal.”

Gom took a step forward, a sword flowing from his hand like water. He pointed it at Walter. “You don’t have a travelling pack, which would be normal for a villager a few towns away. But, you’ve never seen a beastman in your life. That says you’re from outside the empire. That means you have some other way to sustain yourself.”

Walter realized the man meant divine energy. “Look—”

“That,” Gom continued, “wouldn’t be a problem either. If you were a scholar. But like I said. Scholars always carry tools with them, even something as simple as ink and parchment.”

Flipper squeaked a warning as Gom shifted the swordpoint from toward Walter’s chest to his neck. Gom flicked his eyes over to the turtle, then back up to Walter.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I tried to explain,” Walter said.

Gom’s eyes narrowed. “Here’s my theory. You’re either possessed, or an agent from some newcomer faction attempting their first journey into international politics. I’m leaning toward possessed, considering that strange animal.”

Flipper huffed indignantly, peeved that someone would dare compare him to a daemon.

Walter sighed, unsure of what to do. Gom wasn’t a threat, not really. It wasn’t like the new god of Death could die. It was partly why Walter was comfortable enough to follow the man despite not knowing anything in the city. The other part was that Gom genuinely seemed like a nice person.

“If you think for a second that you can come here during the coronation—” Gom started.

“I’m not here for the prince,” Walter interrupted. “Not even close.”

Gom’s sword held steady.

Walter narrowed his lips. He needed some lie to mollify the guard. Because while Walter couldn’t die, he could still feel pain.

The god thought back to his time as a human, to various negotiation courses he took over his years in college. Gom wanted to make sure nothing happened during the coronation, and Walter wanted to nab the obstinate soul refusing to leave. All the god of Death had to do was convey that without revealing his nature.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Easier said than done was an understatement.

Walter took a breath, the beginnings of a story building in his mind. “Okay, first off, I am a scholar. However, business is the cover. My true study is souls.”

Gom snorted. “Next you’ll piss a puddle and told me it rained.”

“Really,” Walter urged. He pointed up to Flipper. “This little guy here is a soul I befriended. He’s great at making shields and types of nets, which is perfect for catching stray souls.”

Flipper squeaked in agreement, conjuring a shield of energy between Gom and Walter. The guard stepped back in surprise as his sword was pushed off course.

“That still doesn’t explain the lack of materials,” Gom said.

“Do you know how dangerous it would be if I had writing of how to work with souls?” Walter said, putting as much emphasis as his nerves allowed. “If I die, lose my notes, or Sod above, someone steals them? How much harm do you think they could do? No, I make sure to memorize what I’ve learned.”

Gom pointed his sword at Walter once more, the edge glowing a dangerous purple. “Fine. Say you’re telling the truth. Why are you here?”

“Because there’s a soul here,” Walter said truthfully. “I was going to collect it and then be on my way.”

“And it couldn’t wait, could it?” Gom asked.

“I didn’t even know there was a coronation going on until I arrived!” Walter groaned. “I swear, all I want is to find that soul and then I’ll be on my way.”

Gom kept a steady hand, silence reigning as he mulled over Walter’s words. Sweat started to form on Walter’s brow, the stress of the moment getting to him.

Walter didn’t want to have to fight. It was why he was spending so much time trying to negotiate. Plus, Davy’s earlier warnings were still rattling around in his head. How people perceived him would change his nature to fit. Acting like a Greek god and fighting his way out would only make everything worse.

“Okay,” Gom said, finally breaking the tension. “I believe that you aren’t here to cause trouble. But since you’re still suspicious, I’m going to have to lock you in jail for the length of the coronation.”

Walter opened his mouth to argue, but Gom spoke over him. “Arguing about it isn’t going to help your case. You’re lucky I didn’t call an executioner. Instead, you’ll have the honor of a guardsman escort.”

Gom pointed his sword to somewhere behind Walter, causing the god to turn. Three other guards had walked out of the amber building behind him, each one with an exotic weapon. Flipper squeaked and brought another shield up.

“It’ll be alright, bud,” Walter said, and urged the turtle to lower his protection. Flipper looked at Walter with concern, but obeyed.

“Off we go then?” Walter asked.

Gom nodded. “Follow three steps behind me, and don’t make sudden moves.”

The second journey through the city was much more uncomfortable than the first. This time, it was the beastmen’s turn to stare at Walter. However, unlike Walter’s curious stare, the beastmen’s eyes were full of suspicion.

Walter knew it made sense, escorted by guardsmen was never a good look. The judgment rankled, however, and it made Walter wish he’d picked a different choice. Revealing his power might have been better than this walk of shame.

Of course, revealing himself would come with another slew of problems. Problems that were likely worse than a bit of embarrassment.

Walter recalled Davy’s words while they were working on his camouflage. “Yer divine nature goes against the livin’, lad. Now, that energy isn’t strong. Especially since your human soul hasn’t accepted things. But the longer someone stays near your presence, the closer to death they get. This ‘camo’ as you call it, will stop that from happenin’.”

Davy was right, the young god of Death still wasn’t comfortable in his role. Walter wasn’t about to reveal himself and endanger the lives of people around him. So the walk of shame it was.

And if everything went topsy-turvy, Walter still had Flipper and his knife.