The ride through the gate tunnel was a quiet one, as they navigated through the space filled with an alarming number of murderholes and suspicious crystals. Every other step, his skin tingled, his sensors spasming while his nanites fought a losing battle, trying to shunt the unexpected influx of potential energy from burrowing into his skin.
An unseen heaviness hung in the stale air of the tunnel walls, straining his back like a mountain rested between his shoulder blades. This was no mere village wall—it felt more like a fortress! Despite giving no visual cue as proof, Ren's danger senses assured him that he was being closely monitored, and that any false moves on his part would incur the wrath of the complex's defense system.
A quiet rumble emanated from Trixx’s snout, but the Kefo stoically navigated onwards, apparently used to experiencing the unease of the engineered chokepoint. Ren wholeheartedly agreed with Algor's mount, but there was no use complaining. He could literally see the light at the end of the tunnel and with every step, he mentally congratulated himself for not pushing the gate guards too far. From what he was experiencing, it was clear that any attacking force would face mass casualties trying to charge through this kill-zone.
A few minutes later and the group of unlikely companions emerged from the tunnels, into the full grandeur of Greendale Village. The golden rays of the setting sun combined with the monochromatic radiance of the hollow moon to cast a dreamy glow on the beautiful scenery. Ren had thought he was finally used to the wonders of the new world, but the sight before him was simply breathtaking.
Literally.
The village was nestled amidst a lush valley, surrounded by verdant hills and a meandering river. For a moment he was bombarded by a maelstrom of scents, sounds and visuals. Like a disturbed beehive, people of all shapes, color and sizes moved around with purposeful steps, attending their business and bumping each other out of the way. Meanwhile, the air was filled with a delightful mixture of curses and laughter, with children darting between the moving carts and powerful hoofs, gambling with their lives the way only the truly young could.
Ren found himself being carted on a wide cobblestone road leading deeper into the Village. Off in the distance, tall spires and elegant towers pierced the sky, reaching towards the heavens, while intricate bridges spanned across narrow canals that crisscrossed the village. Closer to him, the houses were made of more durable and affordable materials. The shops lining either side of the main pathway were built of limestone blocks and the roofs were laced with bamboo latices.
The streets were bustling with merchants hawking their wares, adventurers donning exotic armor, and scholars deeply engrossed in their studies. The architecture of the village was a marvel in itself, with buildings ranging from quaint cottages to sprawling complexes, all adorned with exquisite craftsmanship and fantastical designs.
Despite being close to a forest, very little of the Village was constructed of local lumber. The unique nature of Harosheth Forest limited what trees could be harvested and as such, most of the estates in Greendale were made from large stones imported via Kingdom merchants. The Vulcan King was happy to leave the forest alone as it formed a natural barrier against incursions from the neighboring Kingdoms.
As a result, draconian laws existed that prevented a repeat occurrence of the beastide calamity that befell the region ages ago. Everything, from extensive inspection of lumber goods entering the village, to tearing down already constructed structures for failing building inspections, was common practice.
The harsher impacts of the policies involved the formation of the Harosheth Rangers, a special group of Kingdom inquisitors, whose purview allowed for the execution of illegal lumberjacks without trial. A few cases of mistaken identities had led to the deaths of the wrong people, but life was cheap this far out from the capital city, so no one cared.
Glancing behind him, Ren noticed the hundreds of barracks lining the massive Village walls and the guards practicing drills in the fading sun. These guards paid little attention to the citizens making their way back into the village, as they swung their weapons at mannequins, or sparred against one another. Occasionally, one of the guards would have their livers pierced, ribs shattered or a limb sliced off by the wicked edge of a blade.
The savagery happening just steps from the bustling village struck a chord within Ren, and his mouth watered as he watched the fatally injured warriors, unceremoniously dragged off by their comrades only to be healed by guards donning white armbands. To his immense shock, he watched as one such warrior who had bled enough to satisfy even Ren's bloodlust, get his ruptured chest closed up and then return back to sparring like nothing happened.
Ren looked on with undisguised yearning for the power casually displayed by these professionals. He of course had no use for conventional healing, since his nanites took care of that. However, he seriously wanted to learn to control magic like the healers just did. Ren turned his attention to his immediate surroundings, noting the loud cries of some industrious merchants, who had set up shop close to the gate, selling everything from food, to potions, all the way to carnal pleasures for the weary travelers returning to the village.
The cart rolled over an uneven cobblestone, jarring Ren from his thoughts and he turned around to find Algor stealing glances at him. He could tell the old man was eager to strike up a conversation—especially after the tenuous confrontation with the gate guards—but Ren ignored him. Instead he continued observing the surrounding crowd as the cart rolled by.
Accompanying the group’s cart on the cobblestone streets were farmers with tanned skin pulling their daily harvests back to their homes and shops. Ren also spotted groups of young men and women clutching sacs full of essence stones, with heads on a swivel as they warily guarded against thieves willing to relieve them of their prized possession. Ren even saw a young lady kick a prepubescent child out of her path, warning the potential pickpocket of the punishment of stealing from a warrior completing their Blooding ceremony.
Turns out the Village wasn’t as idyllic as it first seemed.
[ What? You believe in fairytales too? Pathetic! ] A derisive snort echoed in the recesses of his mind as the crazy voice finally broke past the last of the restrictions placed on it.
Ignoring the voice, Ren’s eyes scanned the bustling crowd with renewed focus. This time he sought out the miscreants hiding in plain sight. In the span of a few breaths, he observed eight different pockets being slit open by deft hands holding razor sharp blades. The playing children he had glossed over in his earlier scan were not all innocent either.
Looking closer, he could see the hardness in the mischievous eyes of some of the kids. Over there, a boy who had barely seen his tenth year threw himself into the side of a robust merchant, relieving the man of both his money pouch and his rings. On the other side of the road, he saw a group of teenagers crowding the stall owner while a rail thin girl stuffed rolls of jade into her pouch, and ran away before the owner was wise to their scheme.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
A wry smile formed on Ren’s lips as he watched the little entrepreneurs navigate their trade with respectable professionalism. He was turning to observe the other side of the clearing when he saw something that caused him to pause.
“Stop!” an old woman screamed hoarsely as she struggled to keep hold of her purse, while swatting at the young man pulling it from her. “I said stop! Somebody help!” she cried out but the man ignored her pleas.
Instead he pulled out a blade and swiped at the woman, missing her by a hair's breadth and instead slicing through the leather strap she held on to. Losing her grip, the elderly woman fell onto her back, old bones rattling as they smashed against the rough cobblestone floor. She let out a pained yelp as the air was forced out of her lungs, leaving the thief free to escape.
Ren’s eyes narrowed in blazing fury, and like a bolt shot from an arrow, he darted off the moving cart, bulldozing his way towards the fleeing man. As he tore his way towards the man, he vaguely heard the surprised call from Algor, asking him to wait, but in his fury, his vision was narrowed to the worthless piece of shit trying to escape into the crowd.
He let out a grunt of frustration as the thief kept getting farther and farther away from him. He had led Ren off the main street into one of the adjoining pathways, leading further away from the gate. At this point Ren was not even sure he could make his way back but he didn’t really care. Why wouldn’t these people get out of the way? Were they working with the human scum trying to escape his just punishment? Fuck it. Ren released all restraints and lowered his shoulders as he rammed into anyone foolish enough to stand between him and his target.
Cries of alarm filled the street as bodies were thrown off to either side of the battering ram that Ren had become. Old, young. Farmers, merchants. Like an enraged bull, Ren cared not who stood in his path. In no time, his gambit paid off as the rest of the crowd parted before he had a chance to push them into the air.
The thief was just steps from darting into a side alley when Ren’s fingers clamped on his shoulders like a vice, forcibly turning him around. He screamed so loud, the dissatisfied rumblings of the crowd temporarily subsided as people from far away turned to see what was happening.
The few close enough to see were not disappointed with the show, as Ren backhanded the man, sending the back of his bio-mechanic palm into the delicate cheekbones. A sickening crunch reverberated through the crowd as several teeth, liberally coated in blood, flew out of the man’s mouth.
He fell onto the floor, but Ren immediately grabbed him by the hair and yanked him upright. A sharp body shot with his left hand impacted into the right floating ribs of the disoriented thief, shattering a few and severely rupturing his liver. A harrowing groan escaped his lips as Ren’s cold eyes stared mercilessly into his.
In his periphery, he noticed a harried Algor, as well as the old woman who had been robbed make their way towards the public beating. The woman reached down and grabbed her possession but stood clutching it to her chest as she watched Ren’s application of justice with distaste.
“T-Thanks young man. But that’s enough. I’ve recovered my bag—” her mouth clamped shut as Ren turned his cold fury ridden eyes on her.
She felt like a deer facing a true predator. Her legs buckled and urine ran down her legs. She wanted to scream for help, but her brain refused to be suicidal. She knew in the depths of her heart that she was facing a monster. No one should ever be faced with such soulless eyes!
Seeing that the woman would not be interrupting him anymore, Ren turned back towards the unconscious thief as parts of his scalp were tearing away from Ren’s vice-like grip on his hair.
A hesitant cough in the crowd made Ren whirl around ready to punish the offender but he paused as he saw Algor’s wide eyes, staring at him. “Amitabha, honored …” the old man hesitated, his eyes darting at the bleeding man and then the crowd. “..friend. But we better get going. Remember what the guard captain said?”
Shit.
Ren was disappointed in himself. This was not like him at all! How had he let himself get carried away in an unknown territory, letting his baser instincts rule him. He was not a measly human with their squishy brains and illogical decisions.
[ Hehehehehehehehehe. There is hope for you yet, brat! ]
Of course. Ren sighed as he let the man drop onto the uneven ground and bent down to pick up the gleaming black dagger that had started all of this. The moment he had seen his missing dagger in the man’s hands, he had lost all self control.
His original plan was to question the man on how he had gotten a hold of the dagger. Especially since Ren was sure Ragnod had been the one to take it away from the forest and into the Village. Looking at the mangled face of the unfortunate thief lying in a pool of his own blood, he knew that there was not enough time to nurse him back to consciousness and then question him. Not before the guards showed up.
Quickly, he followed Algor and they made their way away from the commotion, taking random twists and turns before making their way to a stable the wily old man had stashed Trixx at before coming for him. The Kefo eyed Ren’s bloody hands before licking her lips in hunger.
“Bah, not now you greedy mutt. I’ll feed you when we get back to the Temple,” Algor reprimanded as they both got on the cart. Without another word, the old man moved them away from the area, even as they heard guards rushing to the site of the commotion.
Turning to his quiet companion on the cart, Ren noticed the old man had a disgruntled expression on his face. He was pointedly ignoring Ren after the fiasco and occasionally mumbled his misgivings to himself. Ren found this amusing and would have continued poking at Algor, but he needed information more.
Clearing his throat, Ren reached out and held Algor’s closest shoulder. The old man flinched, letting out a series of surprised gasps with such sincerity, Ren would have believed him if he didn't know any better.
“Algor, my good man, I’m sorry for startling you,” Ren began, trying to ease into the conversation. “I just wanted to apologize for making things difficult for you with my actions.”
“Honorable Ren, no need for apologies between warriors. Although, I do not understand why you acted strangely to the grifter. Have you regained your memories?” he prodded looking intently at Ren.
“Unfortunately, I have not.” Ren sighed dramatically. “At least not really. I was just overwhelmed with seeing a defenseless woman attacked by that low-life. Such savages.”
Algor raised a bushy eyebrow, pointedly looking at Ren’s bloodied hands but choosing not to voice his opinions aloud.
“Amitabha, honored Ren,” Algor said with a light bow. “Kringle’s mercy knows all!”
Ren returned the bow then reached into his strange clothing causing Algor to tense up in preparation for a fight. He wasn’t sure how sane this strange man on his cart was, and nothing he had seen over the past hour reassured him in the least. He expected the man to pull out a weapon. Instead Ren held up another wolf essence stone, presenting it to Algor.
“No. No, honored Ren,” Algor protested seeing the looks of greed on some of the street urchins weaving their way through the traffic. “I simply can not take advantage of you for such a small thing.”
“I insist” Ren replied, placing the stone into Algor’s conveniently open palm. Ren noticed the slight nod the old man gave him, and the slight release of his shoulders. He smiled to himself and was glad to have correctly read the wily old man. Money really was the best salve for everything.