Chapter One Hundred Forty-Two: ‘Thine avaricious fever...’

Finding a place to stay for the “night” turned out to be more difficult than expected. With so many in their party, no single location had enough space for them, and given everything the Rainlords had been through recently, Hector couldn’t really blame them for wanting to stick as close together as possible, especially with so many apparent hostiles afoot.

From everything he’d seen and heard so far, Hector didn’t think Babbadelo was giving him a very accurate first impression of what life in the Undercrust was like. Gangs roaming the streets, citizens hiding in their homes, businesses afraid of customers, no local law enforcement in sight.

The full story that they’d gotten from the Hun’Kui that they’d subdued earlier hadn’t proved very comforting, either. Apparently, there was some sort of recent political uprising in a place called Acacero, and Babbadelo just so happened to be one of the cities that it had spread to. And this business with the treasure hunt had only served to compound the problem. According to Mevox’s information, all sorts of unsavory types had been flooding into the city, and now they were clashing with not only each other but also the newly-formed government.

And as one might’ve expected, said government wanted the treasure, too. No doubt, they were hoping it would help to consolidate their power here and stifle some of this chaos--chaos, which, Hector had already witnessed several more times.

Such a large procession of foreigners did not go unnoticed by the locals, and when the Rainlords weren’t being attacked themselves, they frequently witnessed the Hun’Kui fighting amongst each other.

Hector was beginning to see differences among them now, too. Most Hun’Kui weren’t wearing much, but certain bands of treasure hunters distinguished themselves with colorful scarves, hats, or sashes--the latter of which were often lined with weaponry.

Which was another issue.

These ardor weapons had everyone on edge, Hector included. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to be that common, but the mere idea that even non-servants could pose a serious threat... It was just more fuel for the Rainlords’ rapidly growing distrust of everyone else.

He could see it in their ranks. The way they talked to each other. The way they stuck so close together all the time. And especially the way they looked at other people. He supposed he should just be glad they didn’t look at him that way.

‘Keep a close eye on them,’ Garovel told him privately. ‘This kind of behavior is only natural, and it might very well save our lives, but it can be dangerous, too.’

‘You’ve seen people act this way before, I take it?’

‘More times than I can count. The power of groupthink. In the grand scheme of things, it’s just an evolutionary trait. Hugely beneficial toward protecting the “tribe,” as it were. But it also makes it that much easier for someone to overreact, and that’s how innocent people get killed.’

‘But... the Rainlords wouldn’t allow that to happen... I mean, they’re...’

‘I know what you’re trying to say, but don’t be too sure of that. They’re still human. Right now, they’re hurt, and I’m sure they’re feeling vulnerable. And in this world, there exists no better justification for doing something extreme.’

Hector tried to take those words to heart. As much as he’d grown to care for these people, as much as he understood what they were feeling, Garovel was right.

In the end, their party decided to settle on a pair of small inns they found adjacent a large, open area--a kind of rocky park, seemingly. Even with both inns together, there wasn’t enough space for everyone, but that was deemed agreeable, because a large group needed to stay outside and keep watch, anyway.

There was also the not-so-small matter of caring for all the climate-controlled pods. In fact, that was perhaps the biggest challenge of this journey so far. Almost every non-servant among the Rainlords was sleeping in one right now, the few exceptions being those like little Ramira Elroy, whom the Sandlords had given their most advanced heatproofing suits to.

That meant that more than two hundred pods needed to be lugged around and protected. Stacking the pods on huge trolleys was the only thing that made the task feasible, but given that the total number of servants at their disposal was only around fifty or so, it still ended up requiring quite a large percentage of their total manpower.

For the most, it was Lord Diego Redwater and Lady Evangelina Stroud who oversaw the effort and gave the pods the most attention, but Hector saw everyone else either pitching in to help or glancing in their direction frequently. And it wasn’t difficult to understand why. If even one of those pods was damaged, it meant someone’s life. A family member’s life.

No doubt, this was why the Rainlords seemed so grateful for the shields that he’d passed out earlier. He discovered that much of his work had gone toward reinforcing the pods directly. And certainly, an added layer of heavy shields made the pods even more unwieldy than they already were, but that was a sacrifice that the Rainlords did not mind making, apparently.

They unloaded some of the pods and brought them into the inns with them, but the majority remained outside with the camping group. The innkeeper on Hector’s side didn’t look especially pleased with so much floorspace being taken up by unconscious people in pods, but perhaps he was too afraid of the Rainlords, because Hector didn’t see him challenge them on it.

Hector spotted a much smaller Hun’Kui than he’d yet seen, presumably the innkeeper’s son. Hector couldn’t think of any other explanation for that body language--hiding behind the man’s leg and occasionally pestering him as if asking a parent for something.

Hector wondered what the kid was saying and asked Garovel to translate for him.

‘The kid’s hungry,’ the reaper told him privately. ‘Says he hasn’t eaten in... days.’

Hector blinked at that news. ‘Days?’

‘Well, it must be said, Hun’Kui don’t eat nearly as much as surface dwellers do. As I understand it, they have much slower metabolisms, because they don’t need to regulate their body temperatures like we do.’ A beat passed. ‘Or like YOU do, I suppose.’

‘So... you’re saying it’s normal for people down here to go that long without eating?’

‘...No. I think that’s still kinda abnormal, even by their standards.’

‘What did the dad say?’

‘Just to hold on a while longer.’

He frowned, but not ten minutes later, the innkeeper announced to the Rainlords that dinner would be served shortly, so Hector supposed he’d been worrying for no reason.

And by the time dinner did arrive, Hector was almost as curious as he was hungry. He’d forgotten to ask Garovel about it before, so he had absolutely no idea what to expect. With environmental temperatures like this, food from the surface would’ve been cooking itself, so what the hell did people eat down here?

Some kind of stringy, reddish-brown seaweed-looking thing, apparently. And a bubbling, porridge-y substance in a wavy, bowl-like shell.

‘...What is this?’ he asked Garovel, trying his best to keep an open mind.

‘That’s a romodendra.’

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

‘What is? This plant thing?’

‘Yeah. There aren’t many plants that can even survive down here, let alone actually GROW.’

‘Uh-huh...’

Garovel grabbed Hector’s shoulder, and Hector felt all of his lingering soreness vanish. ‘Just give it a try,’ the reaper said. ‘I’ve heard it’s not as bad as it looks.’

Hector was suspicious. ‘...Why did you just numb my pain?’

‘Zeff’s misty armor is protecting you on the outside, but it won’t save your insides from burning like hell when you eat this stuff.’

Hector squinted. If he wasn’t so famished, he might’ve just quit then and there. He looked around the long table to see what everyone else thought of the meal and noticed a few other hesitaters, but none who were flat out refusing. He gave his food another look. ‘What’s this weird porridge stuff?’

‘Uh...’

Hector cocked an eyebrow as he waited.

‘You sure you want me to answer that?’ said Garovel.

‘Just tell me.’

‘Alright. I’m pretty sure it’s worm.’

Hector’s jaw clenched inside his closed mouth, and his whole face went taut, though the constant stream of mist around him rendered it unnoticeable.

‘The bowl there is made from the dried husk and is also edible, if you’re interested.’

He wasn’t.

‘C’mon, where’s your courage? I told you, so now you’ve gotta try it. You never know. You might like it. Certain types of worms are considered a delicacy.’

Fair was fair, Hector supposed. He gathered his composure, grabbed the boxy-spoon utensil in front of him, and tried the wormy porridge first.

Huh.

Now there was a new taste. He had a difficult time even describing it to himself. Meaty was one word for it. Sour was another. But this texture. Chewy and sludgy at the same time. If beef and chicken had been put in a blender until they had a soupy consistency, then perhaps this would be the result.

Mainly, he was just surprised that he didn’t hate it. In fact, maybe it was just because of how hungry he was, but he actually kind of enjoyed it. The same could be said of the romodendra. It was insanely tough, almost like a strip of tree bark, and yet somehow, it complimented the worm pretty well, he thought.

After a couple more bites, Hector found himself looking around the table for the innkeeper and his son. The quaint dining chamber was packed with people, but Hector only saw Rainlords, the Najirs, and a whole bunch of chattering reapers. When he looked through the open eastern doorway, however, he spotted the kid peeking out from behind the corner there, watching everyone.

Watching everyone eat. And that look on his face. A half-open mouth. Glowing eyes wide with longing.

Hector stopped. He looked at Garovel, but the reaper had gotten swept up in one of the many conversations going on. So many of them were talking at once that Hector could barely even parse out Garovel’s voice in his head.

When he looked to the kid again, the innkeeper was there with him, ushering him away from the doorway.

Hector stood and left the table, bringing the meal that he’d still barely touched with him.

As he approached, the innkeeper seemed both frightened and nervous, so Hector slowed his pace a little in hopes of looking as non-threatening as possible. Perhaps Zeff’s armor cloud wasn’t helping in that regard--in fact, it might’ve even been dangerous for them if he got too close. When Hector set the meal down on the nearest table and backed way, the innkeeper appeared to relax somewhat.

After a nod from his father, the kid grabbed it, and Hector watched him wolf it down.

So it was like he’d thought, after all. Hector had been wondering if he was simply mistaken. It did seem strange to him that the innkeeper would prioritize feeding guests over his own child. Was there some reason for that?

He got his answer when several more Hun’Kui children entered from the next room over, all looking at the innkeeper expectantly--and then at Hector, as well. Perhaps they’d been watching the whole time.

That was a lot of mouths to feed. The man probably felt like he had to prioritize customers or else it would affect his business. And in the long-term, that might very well result in even less food to go around. If any at all.

Either that, or he was simply scared of what all these foreigners would do if he didn’t feed them. Hector supposed that was just as likely.

Diego Redwater appeared suddenly in Hector’s peripheral vision and forced his porridge into the hands of another child.

Hector turned and saw several other Rainlords filing in behind the man.

Garovel floated over to him, laughing in the echo of privacy. ‘Look what you’ve started, Hector.’

Hector mostly just wanted answers, though. ‘Why is there a food shortage?’

‘Lord Diego,’ said Garovel publicly, grabbing the man’s attention, ‘can you ask the innkeeper for more details about what’s been going on around here?’

“I don’t speak Hunese,” said Diego, looking around. “Hold on, I’ll find someone.” He disappeared into the throng of people, then returned a few moments later with Carlos Sebolt, who gave Hector a nod of acknowledgment.

Hector was happy to return one of his own, though he was surprised that Lord Carlos even recognized him. He’d only met the man a couple times, and he hadn’t really spoken to him on either occasion.

Garovel listened in on Carlos’ conversation with the innkeeper. ‘...So, what I’m gathering is that this new government rose to power by promising to redistribute wealth to the lower classes. Ah, I see. The local militia was supposed to hand out food to everyone, but instead, they just started selling it at exorbitant prices.’

‘What the fuck?’ said Hector. ‘They can just DO that?’

‘Well, who’s left to stop them? This type of thing happens all the time. People get so wrapped up in the idea of a revolution that they don’t have a realistic plan for what to do afterwards. And then the few people who still have power, like the ones with guns, see an opportunity. Assuming they didn’t plan to do this from the start, that is.’

‘Motherfuckers...’

‘If they’re lucky, this’ll all sort itself out within a few months or so, but there’s a chance that the militia will establish a more long-term foothold in the city. And between that and this treasure-hunting fever going around, these locals are looking at some rough times ahead.’

‘Where is this militia keeping the food?’ Hector asked.

Garovel paused for a look. ‘Why do you want to know that?’

Hector met the reaper’s hollow gaze evenly through the mist. ‘Why do you think?’

‘Hector. This isn’t the sort of thing we should get involved with.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because...’ Garovel broke for a curt sigh. ‘We don’t know how dangerous this militia is. They might have servants with them.’

‘...So?’

‘So the Rainlords have been through enough. They don’t need to get dragged into someone else’s fight right now.’

‘I was already planning to go alone, Garovel.’

The reaper hesitated and glanced around at their friends. ‘Do you really need me to say it? You’re not strong enough, Hector.’

He furrowed his brow and turned to leave. ‘We’ll see.’

Garovel floated into his path. ‘Okay, wow, holy shit. I’m glad you have so much confidence in yourself, but we don’t even know what kind of resistance we’ll encounter. These ardor weapons are still a mystery, and they could also have some extremely powerful servants on their side, like I just said.’

‘Yeah. Or they could be a bunch of pushovers. I’m gonna go find out.’

‘Hector.’ Garovel didn’t sound like he was going to relent.

‘Fine,’ said Hector. ‘I’ll just do some scouting first. If they seem too strong, I won’t fight them. Does that sound fair?’

Garovel made no response.

Hector grew impatient and started toward the exit. ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

‘Argh, you don’t even know where to go,’ said Garovel.

‘So tell me.’

‘And what if I don’t, huh?’

‘Then I guess I’ll just wander around like a jackass until I find it.’

‘Alright, alright,’ the reaper said. ‘Just hold on a second. Let me see if the innkeeper knows anything else that could help.’

Hector was nearly at the door already, so he said, ‘I’ll be outside.’

‘Okay,’ said Garovel.

Hector exited the inn and found a nice chunk of the building’s rocky wall to lean against.

From here, he had a clear sight of the camping group. Part of the reason he’d wanted to come out here was to check how they were doing. Tall, metal walls had been erected in the middle of the park, no doubt the work of a servant, and Hector recognized several of the faces patrolling the perimeter. A few of them were even walking along the walls they’d put up.

The greater view of Babbadelo wasn’t too bad, either. Gargantuan pillars bathed in dim amber. And he hadn’t noticed before, but now he could see platforms extending between many of the pillars in midair. The city had multiple layers.

It reminded him of Warrenhold. And he wondered if that was a coincidence. Perhaps Stasya Orlov had taken inspiration from the Undercrust when building it.

The door to the inn opened, and Diego Redwater exited. The man looked around, then stopped when he saw Hector. “What’re you doing out here?” he asked.

Diego was something of a curiosity, Hector thought. Aside from being the only red-haired Rainlord that Hector had met, he was also the only member of House Redwater present, the rest having been captured by the Vanguard at Rheinhal. Or killed, possibly. Their intel wasn’t clear.

But that name. Redwater. Hector knew how famous it was. More famous than any other House among the Rainlords. It was a strange feeling, speaking so normally with someone who had a name like that. It made Hector a little uneasy, somehow, but he tried not to let it show. Seemed like that would be rude.

“What’s it to you?” said Hector. Oh shit, wait, that was way ruder.

Diego answered before he could apologize, however. “I just got the feeling you might’ve been venturing off to go beat someone’s ass, is all. And I was thinking I might like to join you.”

Hector needed a little time to consider his response to that. “...I’d rather you guys didn’t get involved.”

“Guys? What guys?” Diego folded his arms. “I’m not bringing anyone else, are you?”

“I just don’t want the Rainlords getting mixed up in anything that they don’t need to. You’ve all been through so much already.”

“I wasn’t planning on telling anyone my name. And considering that you’re practically a walking rain cloud, I’d say you look more like a Rainlord than I do.”

Hector had to admit, that was a good point.

The door to the inn opened again, and Asad exited, immediately followed by Jada, Imas, and all three of their reapers.

“I hope you weren’t planning on doing anything reckless without me,” said Asad.

The door swung open yet again, and more familiar faces came flowing out.

Hector just kind of scratched one of his eyebrows and sighed.