Chapter 137
We Will Not Be Gentle
Inside the house was a man with a roughly cut beard and a butcher’s knife on his hip.
“Sister! are you mad?!” The man yelled angrily as soon as the guards were out of sight. “Didn’t I tell you to stay home?!”
“How can I stay home while I know who’s the ones responsible for my husband’s disappearance?!”
“You!!” The man stepped forward and raised his arm. But then the boy came forth and stood before his mother with trembling arms. The man stopped and awkwardly lowered his arm. He slowly brought the two of them into his arms. “I’m sorry, sister. This…this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”
“…this doesn’t seem like an accidental occurrence,” Martell commented while he watched the woman and her son cried into the man’s chest.
“Isn’t this nice? Thank Hurgul we made it in time,” Contrary to the scene before them, the woman who called herself Henri-Artur was nodding to herself. Seemingly unmoved, as if a spectator watching a mediocre but acceptable play.
“Who’s that man? And who are you?” Illumca inquired, her silver eye narrowed in suspicion.
“Didn’t I say it before? I am Henri-Artur. A humble Minstrel who just happened to be embroiled in this rather unsavory event. As for that man, he’s Tom, the local butcher. The woman is his sister.”
“…explain,” Illumca growled. Feeling as if she was being dragged into something unpleasant.
“Hm? What is there to explain?” the female Beastfolk put her hands together in an exaggerated manner. “Ah, yes. You two just arrived in town, so it makes sense that you don’t know what’s happening here. We are part of the Resistance, you see.”
“Resistance?” Illumca blinked.
“…That…doesn’t sound good,” Martell groaned.
“We should pull out now before we get involved,” Illumca said. “We don’t have time to be involved in some hare-brained men playing at resistance.”
“Hare-brained?!” the man who was consoling the two unfortunate souls roared. “You outsiders don’t know what we’ve experienced!”
“Tom! Stop! They saved us!” The woman said while wiping her tears.
“…dammit!”
“Let us not get too excited, yes?” Henri-Artur said. “Look, the Town’s Guards have mostly been bought by the Greyrat Gang. You can’t rely on them. So, if you want to save your friends, it’s better if you work with us. Come with me, I’ll let you meet the leader.”
“…What do you think, Martell?” Illumca said. She wanted to go and save Connie as fast as possible, but there is too much information that they were missing. She now knew enough not to go in fireballs blazing.
Martell considered this problem for a few seconds and finally nodded. “Alright. Lead the way.”
“Ah, I know you’d see reason,” Henri-Artur said cheerfully. “Tom, how about you and your family go back home? And stay there for their safety. I’m going to take these two to Mister Harrison.”
“Are you sure we can trust them? They’re outsiders.”
“They saved your sister and her son without asking for recompense, is that not enough to say that they bear no ill will?”
“Still - !”
“If that’s not enough for you, I can vouch for them,” the odd-eared Beastfolk gave him a smile. A smile that, despite its friendliness, caused the man to shiver.
“Now, then. Shall we? Do follow my lead, the slums are hard to navigate if you are not familiar.”
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The female Beastfolk called Henri-Artur led the two of them through a maze of narrow streets and alleyways. Like most slums, the houses were packed together so tight one could scarcely walk straight. To have enough room in such a place to stretch one’s arms would be a luxury.
Illumca - as usual - spoke seldomly, while Henri-Artur was simply humming along the way.
“You have a strange name, Henri,” Martell said to break the ice.
The odd-eared Beastfolk suddenly stopped and snarled lightly. “It’s Henri-Artur. All of it is my name. Henri. Artur. We don’t know each other enough for you to call me Henri.”
“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to offend,” Martell said, for some reason he felt the hair on his back standing from that little snarl. Illumca too, felt for her daggers.
“Oh, no worries. Mistakes happen,” Henri-Artur laughed and waved it away dismissively. Her earlier tension vanished as if it was smoke. “After all, you are my friend’s friends. And a friend of my friend is also mine.”
“You said that before,” Martell said. “Whom do you mean by a mutual friend?”
“Well, Sid. Of course!” the woman exclaimed happily. “She told me much about her trip to Alabaster Atrium. She mentioned the Lady in Centipede Robe and her companions. That’s how I know who you are. Makes me a bit jealous. Just a bit, mind you.”
“Ah, Miss Sidonai!” Martell was reminded of the Minstrel who always had her eyes closed that they met while they were fighting for Grunford. “Is she well?”
“She is. Sadly, she went to Al-Khemiya a few weeks ago and I had to separate from her. Hurgul knows how much I hate the desert. It’s rough, coarse, and you’ll spend days pulling sand out of your fur.”
“You’re not a local, then? So, how did you get involved with this mess?”
“Would you believe that it was a series of bad luck that caused me to be where I am right now?” Henri-Artur shrugged. “There I was, peddling my skills on the road, earning my coins. Then one night, after spending some money for ale and kicking around some drunk people trying to pay me for nightly service, I saw members of the Greyrats Gang abducting a Daydreamer.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Daydreamers?”
“That’s the name locals use to call the people that you see around here that looked like they’re daydreaming. That’s why the people call them Daydreamers.”
Illumca scrunched up her brows. “What caused them to be that way?”
“It’s better if you heard the story from the man who experienced it. Here we are.”
The three arrived in front of a line of old houses with three old grandmothers sunbathing on old wooden chairs. Above them were strings lined with clothes of many colors, drying under the sun. The grandmothers looked at them and greeted the cheery Beastfolk enthusiastically.
After the short greeting, she went to one of the houses with an unassuming door. Then knocked on it five times. Two times short, two times long, and one time short. After a while there was the sound of the door being unbolted and she entered, followed by Martell and Illumca.
Inside, there were ten men gathered around the room. Some drinking and some eating. Some sharpening their swords, and some were huddled around a table doing Junnaveil knew what. All of them had the same tense expression.
“Hello, hello, Mister Harrison! I am back!” the woman said cheerfully. “And I bring friends with me!”
Flashes of naked swords filled the room barely illuminated by a ray of sunlight coming from the gaps between curtained windows.
“Henri-Artur! Why in Sud-Ghazid did you bring outsiders here?!”
“Whoa, these people are not enemies.”
The one standing in the middle, a well-mannered man with slicked-back hair and a face that looked as if it had been battered by many seasons, gestured with his hands for his men to lower their weapons.
“Did you manage to find Jack’s wife?”
“Yes. But by the time I found her and her son, she’s already confronted Ol’ Mullaney,” the answer caused the people’s faces to freeze in horror. “…however, these two people and their companions managed to save them before they got caught by the Guards. Tom’s taking care of them now.”
After she finished her sentence, the people inside the room sighed with visible relief.
“Ya should of lead wid dat!” A man with only one tooth groaned angrily.
“So why did you bring them to our hideout?” the man with slicked back-hair asked.
“Let me finish. Unfortunately, in the process, their friends got caught instead. Sooo, I took them here thinking that we might help them.”
“Help them? I am thankful that you’ve done us a service. But we are not in the condition to be helping outsiders.”
“Wait, wait. I am telling you, these people are strong! Perhaps we can arrange something! You scratch their back, they scratch yours, type of thing?"
“Enough of this! Henri-Artur told us that you can help us save our companions,” Illumca spoke out. "But I see that we are wasting time here."
"Oh? You want to try me, girl?" the one-toothed man taunted Illumca.
“Alright, put down your weapon, the two of them can wipe the floor with us as easy as flipping their hands,” the man said. “My name is Harrison Stillbrook. I’m sort of the one making decisions around here. I am sorry for my men being so antsy, it comes with what we do.”
“Did you analyze us?”
“No, but anyone worth their salt can see that you two are dangerous. This turns us back to my former question. Why did you bring them here? We don't have enough people as it is.”
"We don't need your people's help. Just information."
Henri-Artur patted the prickly Illumca's shoulder to calm her down. “Ahem, you all should have heard about the Hero Killer. The daughter of the late Duke Steelheart?”
“I’ve heard stories, yes. It's all the rage in Courandhel, they say,” a man with a balding head said.
Henri-Artur flung both hands and gestured fluidly at the sky. “Yes, indeed. The magnificent Hero Killer. The thankless hero that saved Calendia from the betrayal of Vorzenny and its Traitorous Hero.”
She jumped onto the top of the table where the light hit it just right. She then dramatically bowed. “So daring and selfless is the Hero Killer, that she did not mind being hated and jeered, as justice and staunch loyalty to the Country is the only thing in her mind. With her loyal companions, without seeing Race or belief, they defeated the Hero of Vorzenny. But in turn, she was put on trial by her own people.”
She turned with a flair, eyes locking into every individual in the room. Perfectly mastering the scene. “However, through the grace of Junnaveil, she revealed herself to be right and just in her action. From a name that was reviled by everyone as a Hero Killer, that title becomes a symbol of justice. That she would dare to kill a Hero if it means bringing peace to the land.”
Henri-Artur then spread her arms slowly. “This is the tale of the Hero Killer, Lady Cornelia Asterium Steelheart!”
“You mean…!”
“Indeed, they are!” Henri-Artur presented the two of them once more with a flourish. “These two are companions of the infamous Hero Killer. The Dark Elf Illumca Fir Liban, The Crimson Butterfly. The small but courageous Martell Lobelia, The Skyward Sword.”
Illumca was bewildered by Henri-Artur’s action. SO much that she almost forgot what they were there for. As for Martell, he wanted to ask where they got that name.
Is that how they call us now? Why do we not know that?
“Ahem, yes. The ones caught by the Guards are my Mistress, Lady Cornelia Asterium Steelheart, and two others.”
“Is this true?!” a still skeptical man asked.
“I have no need to lie, where else can you meet a party of so many diverse Races together?”
Illumca was about to explode from the mix of bad smells from the men in a tight space and her own impatience when Martell grabbed the Dark Elf’s wrist and shook his head. He then whispered. “Let me handle this.”
“Friends, friends. We would be glad to help if we can. But we are woefully still lacking in information, as we only just come into town when we are beset by this misfortune. If you can tell us the details about what’s happening, perhaps we can be of each other’s help.”
“Yes. Of course. We would be glad to help the hero of Calendia! Where should we start?”
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While Illumca and Martell were being briefed by the Resistance, Connie and the rest had been put in jail. In which there were already some men and a few scared women inside. They clamored and hooted when they saw them coming.
Their items had been confiscated, leaving them only with the clothes on their body and the chains that bound their hands.
“Now keep your mouth shut and I might remember to get you out of here!”
“Captain, we shouldn’t go too far. Look, the young lady is wearing nice clothes. She might be the daughter of a Noble or something. Perhaps we are being overhasty?”
“Shut your trap, Davis! What kind of Noble in their right mind would let their daughter go to Arleine at this time of year?! She might just be a Hunter”
After a tirade of admonishment, the Captain left, leaving the guard named Davis sighing. He went back to his desk in the gloomy dungeon and drank the stale ale in his wooden tankard.
“Do we not even get a trial?” Connie asked the man calmly.
“I’m sorry. I want to help, but my hands are tied.”
“Hah, so this is the Greyvault’s Town’s Guards, is it? How are you different from a gang?” Akula said mockingly.
“Yeah, you’re right. These days, what’s the difference?” the youth said to himself. “I joined the Town’s Guards because I really like it here, you know. Despite this place being so far out in the country. But after the Captain -” Davis remembered himself and shut his mouth.
“Do go on,” Connie gestured. “After the Captain…what?”
“Hey, lady! How about playing with us for a bit instead of that cowardly guard?” one of the men did a crude gesture with his hands and hips. He was quickly silenced by a swift punch by Nick which cracked his skull. The Paladin, who was already irked by being put in chains brawled with the next guy who was about to kick him from the back.
Just as they were getting into it, Connie said with a growl. “Nick, if you are going to put them down. Then put them down.”
After receiving that order, Nick did not hold back anymore. He held a man’s head who was about to cut him with a broken glass hidden under his shirt tightly. He then proceeded to ram his head against the stone wall. One, two, three times until he was out of commission, blood staining the wall as he slid down.
The rest of the prisoners were stupefied and horrified by the show of brutality and slowly backed down.
“H-hey! What are you doing?!” Davis was used to people fighting behind bars. It was a natural occurrence when violent people were gathered in one space. But it went too far this time.
“Ignore what my companion is doing, Guardsman Davis. What’s important now is what you are going to choose,” Connie said flatly. “My name is Lady Cornelia Asterium Steelheart. And I have been appointed Lord of Arleine by His Majesty, the King of Calendia.”
She then cocked her head.
“Now, will you open this jail cell, or shall we break out of this place ourselves? Bear in mind. We are not gentle.”