“So, you asked them to do a job in return for the procedure,” said Raine after Sil explained her discussion with Jacques. “Well, at least I know he’s not going out there alone.”
“You can trust Karkas to have his back.” Sil then turned to the Fa’ar. “Anyway…what should I call you? Do you have a name?”
The Fa’ar nodded, but he couldn’t say anything else.
“I called him ‘kid’ or ‘kiddo’. He doesn’t know how to write his own name. I’ve been trying to teach him how to write. He certainly can draw up some wild stuffs, though.”
“Does that ‘wild stuffs’ include…whatever contraption he got on his back?”
Sil was referring to the unusual weapon the kid made from scraps he collected throughout their journey. It was made from scrap metals and wood, cobbled together with screws that fit and some ropes. It was a polearm of sorts, not long for a human and a Lizan, but long enough for a Fa’ar who was shorter than them by at least two heads. Aside from its cobbled together look, it had an unusual head. Rather than a spearhead, there was a circular saw held in place by an axle. The saw was permitted to turn, but it also made it less effective as a weapon.
“Oh, he’s a tinkerer,” said Raine while patting the kid’s shoulder. “He made some good, improvised grenades that saved our asses many times.”
“Well, I hope that won’t be a problem because I don’t want to blow my shop up,” said Sil.
The kid nodded, understanding what she meant, and started taking off his satchel and the circular saw weapon he had on his back. Raine put them someplace safe as Sil invited them into a different room.
This room looked clean despite of still being surrounded by rotting wood. In the middle, there was a bed, clearly made for her to examine patients and gave the necessary treatment. She had her surgical tools sanitized and kept away, but she wouldn’t need them for this procedure.
The Fa’ar was then asked to take off his vest, which he promptly did, before being asked to lay on the bed. He was a little worried about what might happen to him. He never considered being treated for his ailments except for having his wounds cleaned so that they would not become infected. That, too, was done by slaves sympathetic to his situation, using whatever material they could get in their cages. It was not a clean treatment, but the kid, being a ratfolk, was hardier than most races when it came to unsanitary conditions. Not that he would be comfortable living in such conditions, though. He’d better living in a clean room than Pescita.
But even after all his wounds were cleaned and healed, nothing could heal his psychological wounds, and it showed itself in his reluctance to comply with Sil’s instructions. Sil, understanding the reason for his reluctance, put both her hands on the ratfolk’s shoulders, despite her own reluctance towards Fa’ars.
“You’ll be fine, kid,” said Sil, smiling. “I made an oath as a doctor. It’s my job to make you trust me. You miss hearing your own voice, don’t you?”
The kid couldn’t agree more. He showed it with a nod.
“Then come on. Try and make yourself comfortable, kid.”
The kid climbed on the bed and lay on it. It was soft and comfortable, a far cry from the hard ground he slept on during the journey. He felt so comfortable that he started to feel rather drowsy.
Sil, noticing this, said, “I will put you to sleep so you won’t get bored waiting, okay? Don’t worry. It will be harmless. You won’t even realize how long you will be asleep. Again, don’t worry. I vow to heal you. Nothing will harm you in here.”
Sil never said that to her Fa’ar patients before, owing to her own traumatic experiences. Yet, this time, after being made aware of her latest patient’s own past and his vulnerability, she was compelled to comfort him. She felt obliged to be kind towards a ratfolk, a first for her. She felt strange at first, but as she noticed the kid’s increasing trust towards her, she felt a warmth that was hardly there.
The kid trusted her despite his earlier reservations. Without hesitation, he got himself comfortable as the Lizan doctor held her clawed fingers over the Fa’ar’s forehead, taking care not to accidentally poke his eyes out. A wisp of pure energy flowed out of her fingers towards and into the kid. He started to feel drowsier and drowsier until he finally closed his eyes.
Sil proceeded to rub her hands and muttered incantations under her breath. A bright, warm light appeared between her cupped hands and slowly levitated towards the kid’s throat, settling on top of it. She then sighed and walked out of the room, making good of her promise that he would be safe in the operating room.
Sil then met Raine, who was waiting in front of the room with his arms crossed. Seeing that he needed a good answer, Sil said, “This might take a while, so you might as well relax, human.”
“It’s Raine,” said Raine as he took a chair and sat beside Sil. “And you’re Sil, right?”
“Silsene,” said Sil, flicking her tongue. “But Sil’s fine.”
After nodding, Raine then said, “So, how did you end up here?”
“Trying to find some excitement outside the haven I grew up in.” Sil then sighed. “Never thought I’d get more than I bargained for. Granted, my haven’s rather dull compared to many of them out here. I found this place because I wanted to help, spurred by my naivety as a young doctor longing for an adventure. At least the people here could live in relative comfort, even if they knew the sea’s going to kill them eventually. We are planning to move further inland, away from the aether. When, I do not know. It’s hard enough establishing a settlement as it is without having to be worried about the raiders inland and other forms of dangers.
“Yeah. It’s a problem. But you are still hopeful, aren’t you?”
“Presently, yes. I owe everything to everyone in this settlement. The fact that we couldn’t even come up with a name tells a lot about our indecisiveness, isn’t it? We want to move, but we are scared, much like what happened five years ago.”
Raine, understanding the pain she and the kid experienced, simply did not want to ask about it, sparing her from reliving a painful past. Rather, he asked, “So, how did you get to meet Karkas? Did he happen to be here when it happened?”
“You answered your own question with that assumption. Yes, he just happened to be in Pescita when it happened. To be honest with you, I was almost raped, but it was still traumatizing. They held me down and tore my clothes off, but they didn’t even had a chance to start when Karkas loomed over them and threw one of those fuckers to a wall. I think he broke that rat’s neck. As for the rest…they ran with their tails between their legs, afraid to face a scary Crocodilian.
“He escorted me home and told me to find a better place to live since this might be the first of many, and I wouldn’t be so lucky. Of course, I couldn’t, but he ended up being right. Nothing worse happened to me, but Karkas was not always around when it happened, even though I learned how to defend myself. Once, I can shrug it off. Twice, the seed of doubt is planted. The third is the one that convinced me. That’s…when my opinion on the Fa’ars got worse. Over time, Pescita’s problems became worse, and like everyone else, we abandoned the city. Karkas wasn’t there when we established this settlement, but he certainly knew about this place later, when he was following a lead on his target.”
“Asran?”
“The very same. I never heard that name before, and from the way he acted, I bet neither did anyone else around here. Even Pescita, the so-called ‘City of Vermin’, does not know who Asran was.”
“I guess he became so desperate he thought kiddo over there’s Asran.” Raine turned to the still sedated Fa’ar kid being healed by Sil’s healing light. “To be honest, I never expected him to know a place that can heal his throat. In fact, I never expected him to even consider helping a Fa’ar.”
“You and me both.” Sil then sighed. “To be born as a vile race…maybe our treatment towards them made them feel justified for what they did to us.”
“Yeah. The kid’s a victim. For everything.”
***
Jacques thought it would be hard to find information about them. He was genuinely surprised that they never considered hiding.
The settlement Sil pointed out was, like many other settlements, was a free town. There was no law to govern anyone, and it was always populated by criminals. This was, however, the first time he found a conspicuous presence by the cult calling themselves the Church of Nihilo. Worse, it was clear that the Church had sufficiently recovered after almost being annihilated by the extensive hunt and Jacques’s own personal vendetta.
Clearly, as this was the first time the Loup had ever visited the seaside region, he never knew how the cult he dedicated his whole life to eradicate gain traction and recover from their near destruction. It was painfully obvious how they could easily recover in just five years; the haven taken over by Fa’ars was the reason, along with the general living conditions close to the sea.
Jacques thought it would be easy enough. He thought they would be in hiding and that everyone in the town would be their enemies. Instead, what he found was the worst-case scenario.
He would be desperate if it wasn’t for his rational thinking. The Church basically made themselves enemies for practically everyone after their crimes were exposed. So, why would anyone bother to join the cult? Unless, of course, it was a different cult. They could have been trying to repair their image and refrained from sabotaging people’s optimistic attempts to fix the broken world. That person already died; Jacques made sure of it.
Or they were bidding their time. There were so many ways it could go, and only one would make Jacques reconsider his vendetta against them.
Jacques internally sighed in relief when he did not need to change his mind about them.
The free town, like many free towns, did not bother hiding their savageries. If they wanted to send a message, they would send it in the worst way possible to convince people they were being serious. The easiest way to show how serious they were? Tie them to a cross after roughing them up to the point where they were barely alive. They would die, and their body would be on full display for everyone to see. To make sure everyone knew who they shouldn’t mess with, the symbol of the cult was either branded on their body or carved to it. As a final touch, a wooden sign would indicate what they were ‘guilty’ for: most of them were bounty hunters, law enforcers who pursued them to the town, or simply people who dared to even declare them enemies. They were serious in their own war against the wasteland.
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Except Jacques did not care. He walked past the twisted display of cruelty with indifference, while his companion was more concerned, and even voiced it.
“Ammit’s will,” he said with a horrified tone. “This is what we’re up against?”
“Welcome to my world, Croc,” said Jacques. “And don’t bother helping them down unless you want to end up on one of the crosses.”
“I think I can understand why they are practically a menace to the wasteland,” said Karkas as they continued walking. “Still can’t understand why they are not as prominent there.”
“That’s easy enough. They are the apex here, where everyone’s already down on their luck and would die because of the Aether Sea. No one sane would bother living in here unless they had no place to be. Nihilo preys on despair and hopelessness. That’s how they ensnare you. They had that pull in the wasteland before, but now they can hardly start anything without causing visible destruction.”
“Destruction?”
“Nihilo mages are powerful and destructive. Picking them off one by one would be your best bet against them. The acolytes are dangerous, too, if you don’t know what to expect.”
“And here I thought you’d just charge in blindly.”
“I would if I don’t know who we’re up against. One of the old guards must’ve started this.” After a moment of silence, borne out of hesitation, he said, “I…might not be able to fulfill our promise with the Lizan doctor.”
“She’ll understand. I’ll explain everything.”
But Jacques did not intend to return empty-handed just yet. Taking away one of their major bases could prove detrimental for their attempts to return to prominence. But the Loup wondered if this was the prelude of something much worse. He was familiar with a dangerous cult willing to kill children to drive an already depressing world into total despair, fitting in with their nihilistic-based beliefs that the broken world was nothing more than an afterimage of a world that no longer existed.
But they never showed such display of violence. This cult could just use the Nihilo name without understanding why they did what they did. Or they interpreted nihilism differently. It could be less destructive, but it was certainly not a pacifistic one.
For Jacques, whatever path they chose in their reformation did not matter. They chose to revive the name. They chose to become his enemy. He won against them before. He could do it again.
The town, like many free towns, had no official name. It only added to the depressing state of affair within the crude wall made from scraps and rotten timbers. The people on the cross completed the macabre display of their intention, a twisted display to the cult that considered itself a ‘Church’, like many artifacts from the past that involved crosses.
The people who settled within the town had certainly accepted the Church of Nihilo, at least on the surface. Karkas and Jacques already knew that they were doing it out of fear, as seen from when the Loup’s sensitive ears caught an argument about the significance of the robe they were supposed to wear.
The travelers did not seem to catch anyone’s attention. Despite of being an unusual combination of a Loup-garou and a Crocodilian, they were not that unique. What made them unique, however, were the occupations they chose, one that they knew would certainly turn several discerning eyes. A loup-garou gunslinger (with a dash of magic) and a crocodilian mage would be too conspicuous for those who had never seen them. While Karkas could get away with some explanations, Jacques might not have a good reason if someone started to become suspicious of him. Thus, to prevent that, he hid his revolvers, but he could not hide his rifle and dagger. Good thing this was not the first time he needed to do this. It wasn’t the first time he would pull his revolvers in a pinch, either.
His weapon concealing caught the attention of Karkas, who wondered how Jacques could easily conceal a pair of big revolvers with long barrels. He noticed Jacques’s satchel, and immediately assumed that he put them inside so he could quickly pull them out when things went south. The Croc had seen how fast the Loup could draw his gun, though it wasn’t as fast as Karkas’s spellcasting.
Not bothering to ask, the two entered a rather shoddy-looking establishment. Immediately, they came face-to-face with the nature of the settlement, and the rowdiness of the patrons.
If the arena in the middle of the establishment did not say anything, the people fighting in it could clear that up. It was not uncommon to find a fight club where people of all kinds and races could duke it out in the ring, away from the hassles of fighting in the middle of the street and drawing unwanted attention. In the ring, everyone wanted a good fight, and that’s what the Loup-garou and the Ursan were giving to the cheering people waving money and lifting up mugs, all while both of them were bloodied and bruised.
There did not seem to be any weight classes either, not like official matches Jacques watched in one of the havens in the past. The Loup, while bigger than Jacques, was small compared to the Ursan. Granted, the Ursan was a bear, while the Loup was a wolf. Even their races already made it an apparently uneven match. But size was never everything in a no-rule fight.
The brutal and vicious fight was not something that interested Jacques, so he decided to get something to drink, hoping that something could come up. The bartender, also a Loup, walked to Jacques and Karkas after serving another customer three seats away from them, looking depressed and down to his luck, from the look of his tattered coat.
“Beer,” said Jacques shot.
“Nothing for me,” said Karkas.
The Loup bartender silently walked to a beer tap and filled a mug full of beer, giving it to Jacques, who promptly drink it. Jacques wanted to be direct and asked about the cult, without even considering whether that’s a good idea or not. He did not need to start the conversation, with the bartender being so conversational.
“Haven’t seen you in this hole before,” she said. “You’re a traveler?”
“Something like that,” said Jacques.
She chuckled dryly. “You’re in the wrong place, then. This is no place for decent folks like you, or anyone who isn’t thinking about joining the cult. I’m surprised you’re not turned away by the unfortunates they strung up by the gate. The last person who tried to enter got unnerved after the third row and simply turn around.”
“That’s what they’re for.”
“And to tell everyone that they are far from being defeated.” The Loup sighed. “It is what it is. We were grateful that we recovered from being claimed by the dangers of the seaside region, but at the same time, we sold our souls. To make it even worse, we sold our souls to rats.”
This made Jacques’s ears perked up. “Rats?” he asked. “You mean Fa’ars?”
“Not all of them, though their leader’s certainly is,” said the Loup. “No one’s happy about it. We’re down on our lucks, waiting for the time until we decided to give up and die, when suddenly she came and offered us salvation from our predicaments. In return, we’re to be part of the Church of Nihilo. Not a bad deal, at least until they did the crosses.”
“Are they all bounty hunters?” asked Karkas.
“Bounty hunters, enemies of the cult. They’re the ones who lost,” said the bartender. “Though I have a feeling that they do not want to risk destroying their new base of operations by antagonizing the wrong people.”
“Yeah, I get you,” said Jacques. “There are monsters out there that the Church is wary of. They chose this region for that reason. But I suggest you stay out of their way. Nihilo has many of those monsters among them.”
“Hey, I’m not gonna risk my already miserable life taking on whatever shit they had,” said the bartender. “The one good thing from their takeover? That arena over there’s where anyone with can punch their problem against someone they had a problem with. Of course, that doesn’t mean they’d stop shooting someone dead, but at least it makes some good distraction, or maybe to make people forget that a Fa’ar is practically running the whole town now.”
“This Fa’ar leader…who is she?”
“You can see her for yourself.”
The bartender glanced behind Jacques. He looked, but immediately turned his gaze away and lowered his fedora to further obscure himself. Karkas did not need to hide himself and saw the Fa’ar that had been their topic for a while.
The Fa’ar in question looked just like any other Fa’ars out there. Karkas had trouble differentiating one Fa’ar with another, mostly due to bias against them. He tried to rectify this, starting with the Fa’ar kid he ended up helping of guilt. He could only tell that this was a different Fa’ar because of the piercings she wore on her ears and bracelets on her tail. She was wearing an oversized cloak that’s clearly not intended for a Fa’ar to wear, though the Croc wondered if it was to completely obscure her features, which she certainly wasn’t at the moment, with her head, covered in chocolate brown fur visible for all to see.
Unlike a lot of Fa’ars Karkas met and hunted, this Fa’ar had a dignified aura to her. She did not feel like she would be duplicitous and cowardly. Yet, at the same time, she was also subdued. If the bartender did not point her out, she would be lost among the crowd. Well, lost among many of them, anyway. Some, especially those bearing the symbol of the cult, bowed down to her despite the roars and cheers from the fighters in the background. She did not seek an audience, nor did she want to. Yet, without wanting those, it was clear that she was different.
“So, that’s her,” remarked Karkas. “I can feel that she’s different. I’m surprised she didn’t start demanding some sort of attention, unlike a lot of the Fa’ars I encountered.”
“That’s the interesting part,” said the bartender. “You don’t even know it’s her unless you knew her.”
“Then how the hell did she manage to convince anyone to join?”
The bartender silently glanced towards the entrance. It took Karkas a good minute to realize what the Loup was implying.
“Oh. Damn,” said Karkas. “Now, I get it.”
“Sobesk, I think it’s best for us to leave,” said Jacques, whose tone became hasty. “Now.”
“You know her?”
“Of course, I know her! Why do you think I’m—”
“Etta,” said a female voice. Karkas turned to see the same Fa’ar already standing beside him. “You’re doing rather well.”
“Yes, of course, great leader,” said Etta, the Loup bartender. Her voice sounded shaky and full of fear. “W-what would like to drink?”
“Anything stronger than that beer of yours? It’s been a long trek, and a bad mood throughout.”
Etta hastily nodded and asked one of her co-workers to fetch something ‘strong’. While she did so, the great leader turned to Karkas and looked at him directly in the eyes. The Croc suddenly realized that her eyes were red, but from afar it was hard to tell.
“You’re far from home,” said the Fa’ar. She took a quick glance and said, “Not part of a Seku?”
“Sek…what?”
“A tribe. You’re not part of a tribe, are you?”
Karkas never thought anyone would catch up on that. He did not want to be agitated by it. In fact, he did not want to. The Fa’ar’s friendly attitude was rubbing him the wrong way already.
“S-so what if I’m not?” he asked.
“Hey, don’t get too worked up about it. There is a lot of Buyans out there with the same story. Then of course, there is not a lot of Buyans who’s a mage.”
Karkas’s heart skipped a beat. How did she know? He disguised his staff as a walking stick. Was it the way he dressed? If so, then the Fa’ar must’ve been associated with another Crocodilian mage or was well informed by it.
As he did not reply, the Fa’ar smiled and said, “I hit the mark, didn’t I? You see, I know members of the Church who are Crocodilian mages, but they don’t usually go to the latu, the seaside.”
“C-Church?” said Karkas, trying to act oblivious.
“Oh, I slipped, didn’t I?” said the Fa’ar. “Oh, well. Can’t help it if everyone around you are wearing the same thing somewhere on them. So, what are you going to do, buyan? Are you smart enough to make the right choice?”
Karkas was not unnerved by her calm threat, but he already knew the Fa’ar already deduced their intentions. Knowing that he couldn’t do anything else, he sighed and said, “I don’t want any trouble. We’ll take our leave.”
“We?” The Fa’ar leaned over Karkas to find Jacques, who had already put some money on the counter and walked away while obscuring his lupine appearance. Karkas instantly realized that he did a grave mistake but was unable to make up a reason. The Fa’ar, however, simply let out a smile on her rodent face and said, “Your friend must’ve heard our conversation. He’s being smart.”
“R-right.” Karkas simply nodded to Etta, who returned with a bottle of liquor, and said, “Thank you” before he went to Jacques. They walked away from the bar, disappearing among the crowd.
“So, Etta,” said the Fa’ar leader. “That other one with the fedora. Is he a Loup?”
“He is,” said Etta while pouring the liquor into a shot glass. “Is there something wrong?”
“I’m just curious.”
Etta, however, became unnerved when the female Fa’ar let out a wide grin that showed her sharp teeth that complemented her gnawing teeth. She seemed rather excited, and it was something that she had not seen the Fa’ar did. Her friendly attitude was already uncomfortable due to her status, and now she became excited for some reason.
“Well, then,” said the Fa’ar. “Time to meet an old friend.”