Chapter 34: A Chance Encounter
A Chance Encounter.
The inn door clattered open. Several patrons drinking on the first floor reflexively turned toward the blue-haired woman entering. Her piercingly azure hair and eyes, coupled with breathtaking beauty, drew soft gasps. But when they noticed the Holy Flame Church priestess robes and sword, they quickly returned to their drinks. Priests weren't to be avoided, but neither were they worth provoking. In a world where laws felt distant and fists spoke louder, annoying someone of her power meant inviting collective disaster.
The priestess ordered a simple meal and sat waiting. Raucous conversations assaulted her ears:
"You know what I heard?"
"Spit it out already!"
A man jiggled his empty tankard. His friend scowled and barked, "Another beer here!" before glaring.
"Satisfied now?"
"Heh heh heh. Our kingdom's not the only one. Cultists of the Evil God are rampaging simultaneously in the Eastern Dragon Kingdom, Western Desert Kingdom, Northern and Southern Empires. Those lunatics have finally snapped!"
"Haven't Kelton and Eradico already been devastated? At this rate, they'll hit our city next."
The first man guzzled his beer. "But our kingdom's fared best. Both cities had him show up right when—"
"—The Scourge of Evil God! Eradico's Savior, Marak!" his friend interjected, grinning.
"Exactly! We owe our peaceful drinks to him! To Marak!"
Their clinking glasses emptied quickly. The friend whispered while ordering another round: "But if Marak's coming here, shouldn't we flee? Trouble follows that man like winter follows autumn."
The priestess stopped eavesdropping as her meal arrived. "Marak..." she murmured. She'd missed him in Kelton when he vanished, but his trail toward the Northern Kingdom's capital, Pruna, now aligned with hers. As she ate alone, she hoped their paths might cross.
We'd passed two cities since Eradico. The capital neared, winter's bite softening into spring's approach despite persistent snowfalls.
[Divine Energy: 3379]
Eliminating bandit groups along the way proved profitable. Mother kept trying to extract energy from the gem during city stays, but foreign divinity resisted her efforts.
"Priest Marak?" Dacia approached me mid-march. Walking all day left us only energy for talk, and the princess always had questions—especially for me.
After interrogating Carmen and Sajita, my turn came.
"What is it?" I smiled.
Golden eyes sparkled as she prefaced, "This isn't criticism! Just curiosity—why never spare bandits, even when they surrender?"
Since her first kill in Eradico, Dacia had grown decisive about taking lives, though not bloodthirsty.
"Did you ask the others first?"
She nodded sheepishly. "Carmen says spared bandits would harm civilians. Sajita kills because I pay him. But you?"
"I believe in human potential."
"Then shouldn't you spare them?" Her eager confusion was endearing.
"I do believe they could change," I conceded. "But adults—especially criminals—rarely do. Potential isn't promise. So I remove the risk."
"But what if they repent?"
"The first evil act is hardest. Relapsing is easier."
She pondered deeply. "Do we have the right to judge? The gods give no clear mandates."
KILL!!! Mother's mental shout went unheard by Dacia.
"I don't judge," I explained. "I choose responsibility. If freed bandits later harm innocents, that blood is on me. By killing them, I bear different guilt—one I prefer."
Memories surfaced: Riverkel's spared life costing Santus his. Burying Santus' dismembered body, I'd sworn never to repeat that mistake.
Dacia hesitated. "Could you... tell me that story someday?"
"Another time." I pointed ahead where two highways converged. A merchant caravan approached our direction.
"They're coming toward us!"
Two riders broke from the caravan. Carmen called, "Marak! See that?"
"Likely seeking hired blades," Sajita observed. His bone spear drew obvious attention compared to our sheathed weapons.
The lead rider asked, "Mercenaries?"
Dacia replied, "They're my employees."
The man grinned. "Then perhaps meet our caravan master? He's got proposals."
After brief consultation, we agreed. As the scouts galloped off, Dacia mused, "Should we buy horses next city?"
"I don't know winter horse care," I admitted.
"Nor I," said Carmen.
Sajita shook his head.
Dacia smiled. "Then we keep walking."
The caravan master Aurelius welcomed us in crimson robes, his mechanical voice echoing from a golden metallic body—a Golden Clan member. Most large caravans employed their kind, and his gold-plated form hinted at substantial wealth.
[Welcome! All travelers not bandits are friends!] His jaw clanked as he gestured. [Come! Eat before it cools!]
