Chapter 40: No Turning Back!

What makes a good criminal? Is it their execution of their plans? Is it the odd brutality they inflict? Or is it their capacity to violate the laws of governments?

I would say it is not the act itself along with its success, but the drive to defy the unknowing judges of life. Belief, the most deadly, expects one to bow before it as one must bow before gods, heroes, and truth. As so often does belief claim itself to be truth.

The truth is, all it takes to make a good criminal, along with a good person, is the drive to disobey.

After all, if a scarecrow didn’t stand up to all that was hateful and destructive, there wouldn’t be as much laughter and love as there was three months ago.

And also not as many broken bones. So, take that how you will.

“Well, that’s a change of circumstances.” Skaldi poked his head out from behind a wall, looking out to the scene before him. Vega soon followed, gazing out with Kaliba on her bucket helmet.

“It definitely is-is.”

Both of them knew as soon as they saw them. A soldier with an owl mask, feathers all, was among them and talking to a man in fine garments. That very man shouted loudly and made wide swings with his hands, likely of noble heritage. Not only was there another ship, but they had picked up the survivors of the Barbed Lass.

“~Thank you, great Runtaii. Now we’ll be able to finish the job.~”

“~Finish your job? Sabere and I will finish your job.~” He whistled out to Sabere and the band of Assassins, who instead of being clean and neat like the other Tripolians, were soaked in water as stripes of seaweed hung from their limbs.

“~But sir-~”

“~But nothing. Sabere, grab the package over in the harbor. You know the precise one.~” He casually leaned his hand on his scabbard, treating the Assassin less as a warrior and more of an officer.

“~Shouldn’t a servant do that…~” Sabere tried to make a plea before Runtaii started to tap his foot on the ground loudly. “~It will be done.~” Sabere saluted and made only two steps to the direction before his master snapped his fingers.

“~Wait!~” Runtaii shook his hands as the young Assassin turned to face his once more. “~What does the flare do again? It’s been a few hours since we sent it.~”

“~Why should I know? Ani never told me either.~”

With him approaching their very side of the harbor, Vega and Skaldi walked backward in unison.

“Okay, this is fine.” Skaldi threw his hair back and began to stretch his arms, readying for a fight.

“It is?!” Vega yelled out, clutching both arms to her head.

“Listen and don’t panic!”

“I’m not panicking, I’m just glad that it’s fine.” She giggled in relief. “So what exactly makes this fine?”

“Well, there’s plenty of Iozians here, so we blend in. And you already got the plans right?”

“Uhhhh.”

“Vega. Tell me you got the plans.” Skaldi grabbed by the shoulders and demanded the answer he was hoping for.

“Technically yes, but actually no.”

“Explain.”

“I have a lot of the plans in my backpack, but… turns out there are so-so much paper-paper that I can’t quite get them all.” Vega shrugged, giving her best recounting the situation. Skaldi sucked in breath from his gritted teeth and looked back to where Sabere was walking.

“That’s fine. Plan hasn’t changed, we just get the hell out of here.” Pushing her along and back to where most of the bandits were hanging out, a few of them waved and cheered when Vega passed by.

“Good job dude!”

“Thanks a million brother!”

“Hey redhead gal! You have a fatass!” Skaldi glowed a peach pink and opened his mouth to confront the one that cat called him. When he saw who said it, it was a middle aged lady with an eyepatch as well.

“Uhh… thanks sister?”

“You got it!”

To say that getting past not only the Iozians but the soldiers of Runtaii was a tough circumstance would be the understatement of the year. At every opportunity, Skaldi searched for a way back that covered their tracks. And everytime there would be a patrol of armed guards, an assembly of officers, or Sabere questioning the bandits where the package was.

Hearing a small crowd around one corner, the elf smelt beer. Not just any beer, but Iozian beer. The smell was coming from a wealthy painted building with Kai Ren lanterns tied to the wooden balconies and tables.

“Let’s head-head there.”

“Good idea.” Vega held close to Skaldi as they pushed through the mass of people. It didn’t help that Vega’s backpack was stuffed full of the papers, making it big as a barrel. Sure that this would allow them a chance to breathe, they passed through the entrance. They walked on silky carpet and encountered a revolving door of lacquered glass in frames of black wood. Marveling it briefly, Skaldi laid his hand on the glass as the both of them passed through it.

Inside, it was clear that this was an aristocrat’s home that had been repurposed into a high class bar. Even the bartenders there weren’t the pirate type, as one wore a fabulous toga and the other a tang suit of interwoven gold. The bandits respected their wealth and seemed to take on a relaxed and almost massaged cadence.

“Hello good men.” A waitress with black curly hair and reddened makeup cheeks strutted to them. “We have a table for two if you walk this way.”

“Sure-sure.”

“Thank you so much!”

The table, also of dark wood, had a silver candle stand and plates of white ceramic. Even the chairs had cushions, much to Vega’s loud delight.

“They even have pillows for ya fatass Skaldi!”

“You do have a fatass ma’am.” The waitress complimented the blushing elf, nodding her head to Vega.

“Thanks. I made it myself.”

“Ya did?”

“Shut up and order something to drink. I’ll pay.” He absent mindly pulled out his purse in an environment of big sweaty men, but swiftly covered the amount of money he really had.

“Will two gold do miss?” He said close to her ear.

“Certainly. What would you like?”

“Booze.” Kaliba answered.

“Booze.” Vega answered.

“Booze. ” Skaldi answered with passion.

“But of course. Any food you’d like?”

“You serve food here?! Uhh, anything you can make in five minutes.” Skaldi calmed down and hunched over on the table, glad to be breathing normal air on this island. The waitress left them be, finally allowing them both some alone time.

“Alright. What were you able to get?”

“How should I know-know? I can’t read Tripolian.” Vega elbowed her backpack, making the papers rustle together.

“Don’t do that.” Skaldi grabbed her hand, forcing her to stop moving. After looking side to side to check if anyone was watching them, he let go. “That’s fine. We just have to get out of here alone with the people.”

“Ya want to save the people?”

“Obviously. I wouldn’t want people to suffer when I can do something about it.” He spoke as he rested his chin on the table. Underneath her mask, Vega had the most adorable gaze on Skaldi, like watching a kitten grow up.

“Well, I have an idea-idea for both.”

“Shoot.” He gestured with his hands the movements of an archer.

“I made some friends with the bad-bad guys.”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

“And I think I can convince them to help-help us out?” Vega scratched the table with her glove finger.” “And afterwards, we can get Ren to escort some of them out.”

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“Smart. But…” Skaldi almost agreed with her but he reconsidered.

“Is it not-not enough?”

“Yet that’s only half the job.” Skaldi leaned back in his chair and gave the door a glance before looking back at Vega. “Like, they can’t survive in the spores and they’ll probably become slaves. What to do…”

“Leave them.” Kaliba suggested the coward's way out.

“Silly Kaliba. That option is for pussies.” Vega talked down to the crow.

“I got it!” Skaldi whispered loudly. “We don’t need to save them. But what if we got someone else to do it.”

“Huh-huh. Ya mean the pirates?”

“No. Someone much bigger.” Skaldi pulled from a pouch on his hip a white ceramic pot that he had used before. However, this was a far more intense and bright violet.

“Isn’t that stuff ya-ya put on Bolato and your scarves?” Vega reached out for it but Skaldi pulled it away, putting a cap on top.

“Yes, and I think it may be the way out along with saving them people. I think that this might have been the reason that the Blight Elf found us so early.”

“How do ya know?”

“Let’s just say I tested it out before that flare came up in the sky.” He tapped on his right arm, showing off the blue bruises. “Still, that doesn’t account for what we are going to do when we leave. The Tripolians know someone is fucking with them.”

“Don’t worry-worry. We have a chance. Ask the bad-bad guys to escort us to the people. Get people to the outskirts of town before the even bigger bad guys show up. Get Ren to bring us back and get out of here with a bunch of paper.”

“Easier said than done.”

“It tends to be that, yeah.” Vega replied just as the waitress brought them three cups of sweet beer with two dishes of salted fish and chips. Digging in immediately, Skaldi spared no manners.

“Here is your order.”

“Thank ya pretty lady.” Vega shook her hand, prompting her to chuckle in surprise.

“You are charmer mister. Also, when you’re done, there’s someone that wants to talk to you.”

“Who?” Vega stood up in her chair and the waitress pointed to a man sitting twenty feet from them. Long messy black hair caped over his back as his coffee skin glowed in the lantern light. And his sharp edged face focused on his waiter. Sabere sat in the same bar.

“Mister, what would you like?” A waiter with salt and pepper hair requested his order.

“I'll take a Double Triple Bossy Deluxe on a raft, four by four, animal-style, extra shingles with a shimmy and a squeeze, light axle grease, make it cry, burn it, and let it swim.”

“Uhh, but of course!” Backing away as if Sabere were a fire, the waiter booked it out of there.

“Would you like anything else?” The waitress sweetly asked, not knowing the terror going on in the two’s minds.

“Oh. No-no. We’re fine. Thank you.” Skaldi spoke without looking at her, putting a hand to block his face from Sabere. She bowed and carried on with her duties. “Damn it. I think it’s time we face the music.”

Vega’s burning emotions demanded to be extinguished. Skaldi put on a facade of humor while Vega failed to muster up that same feigned effort. She needed advice.

“Skaldi, before we do this thing, can I ask ya a personal question?”

“Didn’t you just?” Skaldi joked, trying to recompose himself.

“I’m being serious.” Vega laid her hands across the table, holding onto Skaldi’s right hand. “We’ll do the plan, but can ya help me here. Please.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s about Ren. He told me something recently and… it made me think a lot. A lot about our reward for helping him out.”

“What did he say?”

“...it’s something doing with me. My rewards, specifically two. One might be good for everyone, but the other, it has to do with that name.” Vega stared into the ground, still weighing the choices in her mind.

“You mean Kaliber? That name?”

“Yes.” Vega couldn’t look at him, afraid that the Voice would use this opportunity to harm her. “Yeah. And I don’t know what to choose-choose.” Skaldi breathed in and sat up confidently.

“Vega. Look at me.” Squeezing her palm, the scarecrow looked back to the elf. He lifted his eyepatch, showing the wounded part of him. His lost right eye was a purple canyon that started to heal. “You have done a lot for us. A lot for me. Whatever that ‘good for everyone’ thing is, I wouldn’t want you to trade that for yourself.”

“But-”

“But nothing.”

“It’s the Voice.” Vega fired back. “The Voice is telling me… these awful things and-”

“It’s wrong.” Skaldi stopped her in her self-destructive tracks. “Whatever is happening with you, I might not understand it. But I know when someone I care about deserves more.” Getting up from his chair and chugging his cup quickly, he clinked it with Vega’s. “You are more than what you think you are.”

“Haha.” She gave a weak but a more self assured laugh. She felt a lot better that Skaldi could say those words in front of her rather than imaging them. “When I get to the dude behind this, I’ll punch him in the face.”

“When we get to the dude, we’ll punch him in the face. Now let’s do this thing.” They both walked over as Kaliba ate what they had left. And what they brought was the will to fight.

Like thunderstorms overhead the sea, Sabere had a hidden violence to him in the bar. Not a concealed blade or stalking arrow with him. Only his tough as steel eyes and the lamp on his hip. Skaldi felt this awful atmosphere around him. He thought of it as a father interrogating his child for secrets. And funnily enough, Skaldi was barely older and yet seemed so immature compared to this Assassin.

“Hello mister. You wanna speak to me?”

“Yes. I’m Sabere, I work directly for Runtaii. Please sit.” He gestured to the open seat. “I’m sorry, who is your elf?”

“I’m Kori.” Skaldi lied confidently, believing that Sabere wasn’t accustomed to understanding Iozian.

“Kor… Kori?” Sabere sounded out the false name, giving Skaldi a bit of relief that his lie was believed. “Well met Kori. I don’t have a seat for you.”

“That’s fine. Get to the point.”

“Right. You masked bandit did quite the job.” Sabere, using a toothpick, cleaned his fingernails of dirt and sediment. “What’s your name?”

“My name-name?”

“Yes. Your name-name.” Sabere was in no mood to be sensitive to Vega’s erratic speech.

“...It’s Ena. Ena.” Vega’s lie was a lot harder to sell, as she only lied unconsciously or when she had been told to lie.

“Ena. Not a typically Iozian name. Are you Matigas NaTao or something? I don’t quite recognize it.”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m a Matigas.”

“Ena. You managed to transport an entire ton of cargo in under eight minutes.” Sabere said with great praise.

“It was actually seven minutes sir.” Vega shyly corrected, not knowing what he was trying to get. Whether he was trying to get her to slip or came here only to reward made her fearful.

“Even better mister. The reason why I came to see you is one simple reason.” Sabere leaned forward, with one hand laying on top of the lamp. Skaldi shifted his feet back and his own hand reached out for his ceramic pot, ready to hatch the plan.

Vega was sure, no, positive that Sabere discovered her plot. That somehow, he knew who she was and what she did. And that he’d pay her in destruction.

“Where the fuck is the rum?”

“...What?” Vega half laughed out, just as the waiter brought over the monstrosity of a sandwich that Sabere requested. Patties of meat, layers of shredded lettuce, and two slices of toast on each side. Taking two huge bites into it, he clarified while chewing loudly.

“Runtaii wanted to grab the package of the rum. There was supposed to be a tall set of boxes full of Mirage.” Sabere gulped and put the sandwich back down on his plate, leaking beef and cheese juices all over his hand. “Desert Mirage, the best rum of the eastern continents. I was told that you transported it, so where is it?”

“Well, I didn’t open the boxes, I just moved them fast-fast.” Vega held out her arms in defeat, not being able to help the assassin in the slightest.

“Come on! I know Iozians love drinking. Trust me, you wouldn’t be in trouble for taking a couple boxes of it.”

“To be honest, all Tripolian alcohol tastes like shit.” Skaldi crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

“True. But Mirage doesn’t. Liquid happiness, and I’ll be happier when I get it. Or else Runtaii is going to get pissed.”

“Aren’t you a little young to be this much of an alcoholic?” Skaldi ironically confronted Sabere.

“Aren’t you too much of an elf to be speaking Iozian?”

“What the fuck does that even mean dude?”

“Calm down Kori.” Vega waved Skaldi down, relaxing the situation back into its base parts. How is she and Skaldi supposed to get out of there without arousing suspicion? Right then and there, she got it. “We can help you find the rum-rum. But you have to tell us something.”

“I might not be able to guarantee it.” Sabere continued to chomp down on his sandwich, not looking at either of them.

“...Tell us about the flare.” Vega boldly demanded, forcing Sabere to stop eating entirely. He swallowed his food and gave a small chuckle.

“What? The flare?”

“What was it for?” Vega pressed on, with a glance up at Skaldi understanding this play. With more information, they could better make their next move.

“Well… we got a flare from this ship that got damaged in a fight. We haven’t gotten much of the details but we do know that the people are nearby. To what I understand, it was only to signal Runtaii’s ship for help.” Sabere lied through his bread stained teeth.

He did not know who the party was or the fact Skaldi had helped in sabotaging the ship, but he knew the flare’s purpose was to signal someone. Not him or any of his fellow assassins. He didn’t worry for it to be communicated to, only that whoever gave them trouble would meet their doom.

“Nothing else-else?”

“Not a thing.” Sabere answered so mundanely that it shocked Vega. He seemed so casual and used to such circumstances that it frightened her. “All we need is for you to show us where the boxes are and you’ll be let go. Of course, Runtaii will have a couple words for you but that is normal at this point.”

“Runtaii? He’s the… boss-boss, right?”

“Well, he is more of a manager. And he’ll reward you for your above and beyond duty.” Sabere spoke of him in less of a superior and more equally. “Make you an example of how a sailor should work. We could certainly use a better class of Iozian in these times.”

“Huh… first help ya and then speak with him.” Vega simplified in her own words. Her brows rose in discontent, uncertain on whether or not she’ll be detected. The flare however, remained certainly unanswered.

“So. Will you mind helping Runtaii and I?”

Neither the scarecrow or elf couldn’t even imagine a secretive reason behind the flare, yet it felt that it wasn’t enough. Like a house without any furniture or people. Something was missing. However, they couldn’t waste any effort, not now of all times.

She turned back to Skaldi, who felt every bit of fear that Vega had. Not only this, but all the wants and needs that they both had bloomed. To be stronger, to live for yourself, and to struggle for those you love. It might sound silly coming from an animated scarecrow and an alcoholic elf, but it's true.

In his blue eyes she found a fountain in him. A familiar youth in her. Whenever she’s around it, she feels so wonderful. And she tries to be herself. But she can’t help it. All she is wondering, in ephemeral emotion, is that can she live it again? That if she succeeds, will she find that incredible joy not only in friendship but in one’s accomplishments?

She knew the truth. She knew she could do it.

“All right. I’ll show you.” Vega got up from her chair as Sabere led her out of the bar. She took off her backpack, trying not to alert Sabere of the papers in there. Skaldi took it in his hand and hooked it over his shoulder.

“Good.” Sabere made a couple more bites before wiping his mouth clean and tossing the remains into a trash can for tobacco cinders.

Don’t mess up.

Stopping as she reached the door, an anxiety burned within her. The Voice spoke to her, as if it were saying a phrase of some finality. Like this could really be the end. This was really it, she thought. This wasn’t some dumb bandits or drunk raiders. She was heading into the den of real killers.

“See ya Kori.” Giving a thumbs up, she signaled to start the plan.

Skaldi held tightly onto the ceramic pot and fielded his bravery. Images of Bolato and Valiato came to him. He knew it wasn’t just about himself, but for the lives of those he loved. The elf whispered to himself.

“To you I hold. To you I struggle. To you, I love. For you, I fight.”