Born a Monster

Chapter 374

374 274 – Return to Narrow Valley

Narrow Valley, the city that had served as our capitol when I left, had sprawled. There was no other word for it; outside the walls, unplanned wooden construction had expanded like an insect nest.

“Do you see any wells?” I asked Kismet.

“What the dirty unwashed peasants!” Kismet exclaimed.

And I took note of the number of tree stumps, but remained silent about it. Wasteful assholes. Maybe if we beheaded a peasant on each stump, we could take care of the population problem.

I kept silent on that, too, recognizing that two days of travel carrying Kismet’s luggage wasn’t doing me any favors.

[System Error: Cannot find Serenity score.]

So it wasn’t just my physical health that wasn’t working. Great. At least no System reset so far had taken more than two days. None that I knew of, the thought came to me.

There were guards checking papers and luggage, so I gladly presented them with my diplomatic credentials. The sergeant took them, and then scoffed.

“Heh. Nice try, but ambassador Rhishisikk would be arriving on another road entirely. Arrest them!”

.....

“Rhishi!” Kismet exclaimed, prepared to bolt.

“I request to be taken to Rakkal.” I said.

“Well, he’s out in the field, so we’ll just have you taken to the prison until Guur can come for you.”

Guur was one of Rakkal’s brothers.

“What is Guur doing here if Rakkal is in the field?”

“Battle injuries. The real Rhishisikk would know that.”

[System Error, no Wrath received.]

“Then I request to be taken to Guur.” I said.

“Don’t worry; Guur will come for you. Probably when he’s hungry.”

I sighed, held out my hands for the manacles. “You are making a mistake.”

“Hear that, boys? I’m making a mistake, and the ambassador is going to set me on mining detail.”

They enjoyed their laughter.

“Wren deserved his fate. I hope your superior has good things to say about your job performance.”

“Rhishi?” Kismet asked, “You realize if ANYTHING untoward happens to me, you compensate the Guild for damages, right?”

I spoke to her in Neonese. “You can defend yourself.” I scratched under the empty socket of my right eye.

[Serious injury: Eye Missing (rapid healing).]

I had no clue why that would work when the normal health meters wouldn’t.

“The guards might be able to speak Neonen. Send me a System group invite.”

I did so.

As the guards began searching through our inventories, she sent:

And left the group.

It was typical of her rants when things went wrong. It was like throwing grease on a fire; sure, you got a burst of flame, but it didn’t last, and the fire might be entirely out when it subsided.

“Hey! You be careful with those garments, those are authentic Daurian silk.” Kismet demanded.

“Uh, Sarge? This looks like trade goods from the Shining Isles.”

“Good.” the sergeant said. “Add smuggling to the impersonation charges.”

I blinked, trying to understand the world as he must see it. I tried.

Still, if he looked at my official embassy papers and saw only forgeries, there wasn’t an awful lot that I could do about that without leaving one of those expanding pools of murder. Not that I wasn’t tempted, you understand.

People stared, but nobody dared to hurl food, insults, or curses.

“Tell me something.” I said to the guard walking me to the jail.

“Not my job.” he said, not even turning to face me.

“Why are the people scared?” I asked.

“Again, not my job to tell you.”

I smacked my lips together.

“Hey!” Kismet shouted out from behind me. “Be careful with that luggage. I’ll be taking inventory and charging your government for every tin coin of damages.”

“Government’s wallet isn’t mine.” the guard said, giving the luggage a stern kick.

Honestly, I’m surprised we got to the jail with all of our guards intact.

“Charges?” the warden’s sergeant asked.

“Impersonation and smuggling, west road. Says he wants to see Guur.”

“Does he, then? Fine, take them to see Guur. It’s no nevermind to me.”

“Well, no, sergeant, we’re needed back at the western checkpoint. One of the warden’s guard will have to take them.”

“Lad, when you are a sergeant, then you get to talk to me like that. Do it again, and see if you don’t end up in a cell yourself. Now, since I outrank you, you WILL escort these prisoners to the capitol building, and there will be. No. Backtalk.”

“Yes, sergeant.” the guard said. He led us back into the street, promptly said. “Not my job.” and unlocked first my manacles and then Kismet’s.

“There is the matter of our travel visas and confiscated belongings.” I said.

“Eh, you mean your papers? Here you go.”

“And my sword?” I asked.

“You’ll need to talk to sergeant Luro about that, he’s still got it with him.”

I clenched my fists so tightly that the knuckles cracked.

[System Error, no Wrath received.]

“If I asked you to warn him I was coming for my sword, you’d just tell me it’s not your job, wouldn’t you?” I asked.

“Because it’s not. We have a job, and we need to get back to it. Welcome to Narrow Valley.”

“What the hell was that?” Kismet demanded. “Who treats people that way, and who just lets criminals roam the streets?”

I grabbed her luggage. “Perhaps when we are further from the prison?” I asked her. “Although, yes, the quality of the guards does seem to be diminished.”

“Tell me about it. And did you see the state of the market? Do you think there’s a tournament in Whitehill that we weren’t told about?”

I shrugged. “It’s still early spring, but yes, I noticed a lack of merchants.”

“Rhishi, the Guild is this way.”

“And the government building is this way.” I said. “Since I am the one carrying your luggage, we’re going this way.”

“And if I just go back to the Guild?”

“I’ll have your bags delivered to you.” I said.

As it turned out, there was a cart for hire by the government building, and after a brief reminder that the government owed her a small fortune, Kismet was away.

I stretched my muscles, twisted my neck, and approached the building. Neither of the guards moved to stop me, or even to inspect my papers.

One of them took notice of me. “You’re expected, Black-Eyes. You remember where the throne room is?” she asked in Uruk. “I was expecting a group of four, though.”

“We had... losses.” I said.

She wouldn’t meet my gaze. “We’ve had losses of our own. Mayor Guur can explain in detail. And more detail. You’ll be here until tomorrow if you let him go on. You remember how he is.”

I exhaled slowly. “To be home, he can talk my ears off for longer.” I said. “I hear Rakkal is at the front. Which one?”

“Is there one closer to the capital than the Centaur?” asked the male guard.

“Ugh.” I said, feeling the need to massage my forehead. “That explains the quality of the remaining guardsmen.”

She blinked at me. “Rakkal said something about ending the war once and for all. Gathered every soldier west of the Twelve Daggers, north of Rakkal’s Glory and south of Whitehill.”

“No, he can’t... that won’t work out the way he thinks. How long ago was this?”

“What, week, maybe a week and a half?”

The groan from my throat was matched by the one in my stomach.

She chuckled. “Get inside, Black-Eyes. Welcome home, as short as your stay will probably be.”

The throne room had once upon a time been just the mayor’s dining room. On the day of my return, it looked to have served that purpose again. The plates, tempting me with their leftovers, were still in plain view from breakfast.

.....

At the head of the table sat a minotaur, still broad of shoulder and thick of muscle. If one had not met Rakkal, one might mistake his older and larger brother for him. He moved slowly, deliberately.

“You have grown,” he said, “since the time I saw you last.”

“I had expected you to heal, once I heard you survived your disembowelment.”

“Alas, my days on the battlefield are over. Rather than stave my skull in, my brother condemns me to reign here. This chair, this petty town, this cesspool of humanity.”

I spun my reticule over him. Whatever else may have been wrong with him, he had no particular disease or infection. “You don’t look like you’ve gone to fat just yet.”

“Ah, THAT is a curse of mine. My metabolism never slowed down to match the new lifestyle.” He wagged a finger at me. “And YOU should be the one talking, not me.”

Yes, I had lips, although they aren’t the thick fatty things most people had. They served well enough to keep water in and dust out.