Karkas decided to take several days of rest before he and Narati met with Raine in his office, which was the biggest building near the plaza which also happened to include the library and the post office, both of which were operated by volunteers with little knowledge of what they were doing. Not that they could do anything wrong, especially when there were no one using both at the moment.
After they met with the man, they did not hesitate to tell him what they planned to do next. Karkas did not tell him of what they were doing on the journey, only that he told Raine about Narati’s request for a blacksmith. The Croc could tell that the cat-eared human was listening intently, making his worried that Raine also knew.
To his relief, Raine was only suspicious of Narati.
“You just want to get more junk, aren’t you, Nara?” said Raine with a sigh.
“What’s wrong with that? Without scraps or junk, I’m useless,” reasoned Narati.
“You could try and learn something else. I thought you’re learning how to farm.”
“With everything already done until harvest time? All I’m doing is walking around learning how to read and write Common, which frankly, is not enough. I want to go out there again, Raine. I know it’s unreasonable and stupid, but—”
“He wishes to learn more,” interjected Karkas. “With the library as bare-boned as it is, he can’t learn anything more advanced than Common vocabulary. There are certain knowledge from the past that he can use as references so his contraptions would not be so haphazard.”
Narati did not think of that, so all he could do was nod.
“Hmm…it’s true that there are ancient machines that might be useful for us. Well, I won’t stop you. We’ve known each other for almost a year. We even fought together as a team. I know you two knew the taste of the Wasteland by now.”
Karkas let out a subtle smirk. “Glad you can understand. Narati is safe with me. As usual.”
“Just don’t anger anyone who could trace you two back here. The last thing we need are people bend on revenge wrecking everything.”
“Don’t worry,” said Narati. “We’ll be careful.”
“Uh-huh.” Raine raised one of his eyebrows. He had all the reasons to be concerned with the Fa’ar. He was a trouble magnet, even if he didn’t wish for it. For some people, it was easier to blame the Fa’ar. Even after they managed to do a great job, they would still try and find a way to undermine their efforts because a Fa’ar was involved. If Raine could, he would punch their noses. Even that wouldn't convince them, as Wastelanders were used to being punched. The only thing that convinced them was fear, and Narati's god-forsaken axe did that very well.
Which was also why he did not wish for Narati to be involved with the Desert Wasteland again. He lived among good people, and he was forgiving. Even their resident elf accepted Narati as a sapient being instead of the product of an empire hell-bent on destroying the world once upon a time. Granted, Aranis was both a dark elf and a wood elf, so comparing her to the more common elves would be unfair.
But Raine did not wish to disappoint his friend. Narati was free to choose what he wanted to do in life, provided it wasn’t going to negatively affect his personal growth. He also needed to experience life at his own pace. He had already lost a portion of his life. It was time he took them back.
After being approved, Karkas and Narati excused themselves from Raine’s office. No sooner than that, Sakiri entered through the doors. The chitra greeted them and excused herself, focused on the job.
“Looking at her, you’d never guessed that she’s an exiled princess,” commented Karkas after they exited the building. “I have never known a member of the royalty to be proficient in air magic such as her.”
“Not to mention cute, too,” said Narati. “Cute and deadly.”
Karkas chuckled and nudged his friend. “You like her? I’m surprised. A rat and a cat doesn’t mix well, you know.”
“Nah. Itripu’s out of my league. Besides, who’d want to go out with a former Fa’ar slave like me? She'll only sympathize with me.” Narati then sighed. “Also, I’m not ready yet.”
“I understand,” said Karkas. “But I believe one day you’ll be prepared to completely let go. One step at a time.”
“You bet,” said Narati, feeling more confident. “Now, then. Where to go first?”
Karkas explained that, during the brief respite, he reread the journal after Narati pointed out several vital points that he missed. The Fa’ar was no scholar, and his understanding of Common language was limited, so Karkas helped him read parts that Narati did not understand or needed further translation. Being a Fa’ar, Narati couldn’t benefit from spells that was cast on him unless it was a recovery or defensive spell. He couldn’t use the translation spell, a shortcut that a proficient enough mage could use and share with others. Yet, this did not mean Narati was useless.
Due to Narati pointing out several things he couldn’t understand, Karkas managed to get more information that he missed or deemed unimportant, such as terms that, if literally translated, would mean nothing. Also, Narati could understand several terms related to slavery, some of which he got from experience.
“We need to go back to Endsville, though I wish we don't,” said Karkas reluctantly, something that Narati caught.
“Not friendly towards Fa’ars?” surmised the rat person.
“Let’s just say I caused a bit of a commotion,” said Karkas. “And no. There are Fa’ars, too. It’s just…I never thought I’d be returning there after getting nothing. I can’t believe I missed something important.”
“How far is Endsville from here?”
“Several days’ worth of journey by foot,” said Karkas. “You ready?”
Narati nodded while carrying his satchel. Karkas soon noticed something missing.
“Where’s your axe?” asked Karkas.
“Here.” Narati produced an axe, which was secured on his back. It was a regular-looking battle axe that could easily be mistaken for a woodcutter's axe if it wasn't for the shape of the axe blade. Karkas could sense mana on the axe blade, presumably to reduce the axe's weight, or to sharpen the blade. Still, that wasn't what Karkas expected.
“No, I mean—”
“My circular saw one? It’s broken. I bet you’re glad that thing’s gone, huh? Well, too bad for you, I am going out there to find more parts to fix it, probably even upgrade it so you won’t complain to Sobek every time I turn it on.”
Karkas was unsure if he should be elated or disappointed. For now, though, he was glad that Narati considered using something normal for once. He hoped the Fa’ar had grenades to spare, though. Unlike his cumbersome and annoying signature weapon, the grenades were a boon. He did not need to ask to know that’s the case when Narati told him that he stocked what he could spare.
With everything prepared, the two set out from Dragon’s Rest gate, and walked the paved road back to the Wasteland.
***
Going back from his last visit did not feel as long as he thought it would be. Narati accompanying him also helped distract him from the bleak Wasteland. It was like day and night, comparing the lush green Valley and dull-colored Wasteland.
Endsville was not as welcoming as when Karkas visited it the first time. The unlit ruins of the tall buildings lent to an eerie aura that unnerved Narati, even more so for Karkas. The Croc’s imposing appearance was enough to keep them out of trouble, at least for the moment. The last thing he needed was to be involved in a fight.
Good thing that wasn’t the case. Nobody would want to confront them. If Karkas did not scare them, then Narati brandishing his axe would. No one would make fun of a Fa’ar who carried a heavy-looking axe confidently. They continued through the street, enduring the stares, until they reached where they needed to be.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“One bit of advice,” said Karkas. “Do not swing your axe first.”
“Got it,” said Narati.
“And, uh…prepare yourself. And I don’t mean for a fight.”
Before Narati could ask Karkas to elaborate, he opened the door. Immediately, Narati realized what he meant.
It wasn’t that apparent from the outside other than the pink lighting, but it became clear that the building was in fact a brothel. It was filled with scantily-clad women of all races, ranging from humans to an assortment of beast people. He noticed a couple of Fa’ars looking at him with sultry eyes, barely dressed. One of them had nothing on her but her fur, embracing her thick rodent tail to cover her private parts rather seductively. Narati gulped, but quickly looked away.
It wasn’t so bad at first, at least until his ears caught sexual moans and grunts. He could even hear screams of pleasure. Narati instinctively pulled his ears shut; he heard them too many times before, some of which he made while crying and begging. No one could understand what he said in Fa’ari, but Narati could vividly remember it. He wished them to stop because they were hurting him. The unexpected pleasure was mixed with pain from the rough treatment his slavers did to him. What made it worse were his involuntary moans and screams that they misinterpreted as pleasure. Over time, some of them became annoyed, hence the gag in his mouth.
It made him relive the worst moments of his life where he was not in control, where an activity that should have been for pleasure was like torture for him. He wanted to let go, but the brothel wasn't helping, and he was completely unprepared. Somehow, he was more used to people shouting insults at him than hearing sex sounds; he could just turn on his axe to prove a point, or cut them in half when everything else failed. That was his attempt to take control of his life, to know that he was not just there to be fucked.
No! He thought. He must maintain control! He couldn't let his broken mind take over, or he'd proven his friends wrong. His attempt ended up causing him to dig his claws into his big ears, causing them to bleed.
Karkas noticed this, as did the Croc madame, the same one Karkas helped with the Xholi situation. She beckoned him to follow her. Karkas guided Narati by patting his back. Soon, they got into a separate room where it was relatively quieter. There was a music. It must have been sung by the ancient people from the past, though he could understand what the singer sung, something about not wanting to set the world on fire. That ironically applied to Narati's current situation, but also calmed him enough to open his eyes, only to find himself face-to-face with a Crocodilian's face, albeit not Karkas's.
Realizing what he did, he became flustered. He looked away and said, “I…made a fool of myself. I’m sorry. Karkas didn’t tell me we’re going to a lapecu house.”
The Croc madame, sympathetic, said, “Lay down on that sofa, rat boy. I’m sorry you have to go through that.”
“No, I…I’m sorry.”
Narati walked to the sofa she mentioned and sat on it. He didn’t lay down.
“You could’ve asked one of the girls for me instead of coming in,” said the madame upon turning to glare at Karkas
“I didn’t know he’d react so badly,” reasoned Karkas.
“It’s easy to tell that he’s a rape victim. A very broken victim. The acoustics in this place are bad, but it’s all you can get out here with nothing but some rotten wood and shoddy construction skills. Whatever sound dampener I can get I reserve it for the more extreme ones. I could bet everything I have that he’ll hyperventilate the moment he heard a whip crack. For him, that’s not a roleplay.”
“So, you have an experience dealing with him?”
“It’s called common sense, Unmarked. You’d understand a flustered, embarrassed person. He is terrified.”
Karkas let out an understanding growl. Once again, he proved that he was the worst person to raise Narati.
“So? What do you want? I never thought you’d return after one whole week.”
“I missed something. A lead.”
“About your elusive Fa’ar? I thought our friend already give you the answer.”
“Is he here?”
“He’s indisposed.”
“Dead?”
The madame scoffed. “Sobek’s tail, no! That’s far too easy for him. I can bring him here so he’ll answer anything you needs.”
“That will not be necessary,” said Karkas. “You’re the boss now. You have the answer I need.”
“Oh?”
“Sagaero met with Asran Taburan three weeks ago. However, he did not sell someone that day. The last girl he sold as a slave was three years ago.”
The madame’s head turned to Karkas. She looked at him in disbelief.
“Nara, what’s the name you found?” asked Karkas.
“Concetta,” replied Narati. “Connie.”
“Connie? The human, Connie? By Sobek, how did you know it’s her? Is she alive?”
“She is. But she’s…changed. It’s complicated, but let’s just say Connie’s no longer human.”
The madame sunk to her seat. She never thought she’d hear that name again.
“Connie was a young human who came here after braving the desert. She got no place to go and nothing to offer but herself. Sagaero was eager to have a human in the brothel since he didn’t have any, and he wanted to expand his business to also cater towards those not into beast people. She was the first and only human who ever worked here, so Sagaero considered her special, or so he thought. The moment he learned her secret, he was furious. If it wasn’t for me, he'd beat her soft skin. In the end, he sold her away.”
“Why?”
The madame looked away, reluctant to say another word. When the silence became uncomfortable, she let out a soft growl and, reluctantly, said, “She was caught flirting and kissing…with one of the girls.”
Upon hearing that, Narati sat up. He exchanged looks with Karkas, eyes wide. Then, he cracked a smile.
“I’d love to see Herb’s face when he learned about it,” commented Narati while snickering, his mood improved.
“That Fa’ar you mentioned bought her and brought her to a different free town,” continued the madame. “I followed them. Got into trouble with Sagaero.”
“Did you know where they went?”
“A free town. The people there called it Vermin House. I don’t know why they called it that, but I have a feeling it’s related to Fa’ars. Your young friend might feel at home, but not for you. Since you’re an Unmarked, you know what I mean.”
“Yes. I do,” said Karkas grimly.
“If I may ask, what’s your problem with Asran Taburan, anyway? He’s a Fa’ar. He shouldn’t be much of a problem for you. No offense, boy.”
After Narati shook his head, Karkas said, “Not your business. I better get going. Come along, Nara.”
The madame wanted to stop Karkas. The mage stopped before she could say another word, and said, “I thought you wanted to move. What changed your mind?”
“I don’t know where to go. Endsville is not the best place to be, but it has been my home for ten years. People come and go, most of them dangerous enough to kill without remorse. But after you took care of Sagaero, I realized that what this place needs is protection. Sagaero blamed the dangerous people, but at the same time, he blamed us for being too naïve. Which is why I am training them to fend for themselves.”
Karkas was impressed. He could appreciate someone who could fight for themselves while also helping others to fight. The Desert Wasteland would eat them whole if they were not tough.
“But you know,” said Narati. “You could c—”
“You could teach them some spells,” interrupted Karkas when he realized what Narati was going to say. “The Fa’ars might not be able to, but if they’re half as reliable as Narati, I bet they’d appreciate it.”
“Hmmm…that’s an interesting notion. As it happens, I know a thing or two about combat spells. Although…I might want to learn a thing or two about binding spells from you. Now that’s more interesting.”
“No.”
“Oh, what a shame. In any case, good luck, Unmarked.”
“It’s Karkas,” said the Croc.
“And I’m Hasheti,” said the madame.
The two Crocs gave nods to each other before Karkas beckoned Narati to come. Hasheti was kind enough to let them go through the back door so Narati would not be subjected to the torment again, something the young Fa’ar appreciated. They left the brothel, never looking back.
After asking the direction to Vermin House from a Fa’ari shop owner (who frowned upon hearing that name) and went on their way, Karkas and Narati stayed silent for a while before the Croc started.
“You shouldn’t do that,” reprimanded the Croc mage.
“Do what?”
“Offering her a place in Dragon’s Rest,” said Karkas. “The last thing we need is a brothel.”
“But she’s a nice person. This place is not safe. We know how to defend ourselves, but those girls—”
“May not be warriors, but they know what to do,” interrupted the Croc. “Hasheti may be understanding of your problem, kid, but she’s as opportunistic as everyone in this god-forsaken land.”
“Oh, come on, Kar. You don’t know that.”
“I thought you’d be better than that after being screwed over. Figuratively and literally.”
“Being suspicious to others does not mean you don’t consider offering them kindness yourself. If I think like that, I would never have forgiven you, Kar. We wouldn’t even be friends.”
“That’s you, Nara. You’re a rare person out here, and you earned the peace Emerald Valley had to offer. I’m sure that, if it’s up to you, you’d consider forgiving Asran just like you forgive the leader of Nihilo. Which is why I want you to promise not to get in my way when it happens. I appreciate your help, but when we confront Asran, it’s on me. Got it?”
Karkas could sense reluctance in Narati when the Fa’ar nodded slowly, apparently unsure on how to react. The Croc could only hope that his friend would not ruin his vengeance. He then wondered about Narati and how easily he could forgive after everything he went through. Karkas accepted that Narati had been through far more than him. He was betrayed and left to death in the middle of a desert. Through sheer will and vengeance-driven determination, Karkas survived.
As he looked at Narati, who took his time searching scrap heaps for things he could use, Karkas became even more curious, and started reflecting on himself. He had no love for Fa’ars before Asran, but he tolerated them. Asran was the first Fa’ar he worked with, but at the same time, he was also the first, hopefully the only, Fa’ar who betrayed him. Then, as he continued his aimless travel, he encountered and witnessed Fa’ars as dangerous, manipulative, and vile. It biased him, causing him to conclude that Fa’ars helped each other, but was also easy to betray each other. It caused him to search Asran for five years using his biased conclusions to pursue his revenge, using nothing but intimidation to force the Fa'ars to talk.
It was only after he saw what he did to Narati that he stopped. He had fallen to fake mammalian tears before, one that was unfairly called 'crocodile tears', so Narati’s tears did not faze him. Yet, Narati was the first to surrender to his fate. Karkas admitted to himself that the reason why he stopped and comforted the young Fa’ar was because he thought the Fa’ar was ready to talk after being pushed to the brink. It was only after he realized that Narati was a mute did he became remorseful.
In the end, the young, traumatized Fa’ar with a fragile psyche helped him tolerate his kind. It did not stop him from letting go of Asran. A Croc considered betrayals to be the gravest of sins and was justified by the Fa’ar’s exploits. Despite Narati’s attempts to persuade him to let it go, Karkas would only feel better if Asran was no longer a menace.
It would be a shame if he ended up dying before Karkas could have his way. It would be unfortunate, but at least he was out of the picture.
Keeping this in mind, they continued on in silence.