Chapter Four


A gentle, cool breeze blew through the streets of the Kaito City Market District, quite a refreshing change in Haka since the Tsunami. Traders gathered around small, makeshift kiosks, various rare or totally useless objects up for sale on the stalls: shining rubies, hardened stones said to be hearts of Wyverns, massive swords embroidered with gemstones and golden lining, endless rows of vials of many kinds of liquids: inhibitors, catalysts, antidotes and rare brews of native jungle drinks. There were small, cat-human hybrids called Felynes gathered around the stalls, raising their merchandise as high as they could, just so their master would feed them.

Another species of cat-human hybrid roamed the alleyways of the market, their black fur blending in with the shadows, and their paw-shaped gadgets reaching out as far as they could to nab a precious coin from a passerby. Melynxes, the brother of the Felyne species, and the more greedy and human-hating kind too. There were beggars, paupers, and people generally down on their luck, laying against the walls of the market's edge, hoping to get the leftovers of someone's sale. It was quite possibly the largest market in all of Southern Minegarde; even The Great Bazaar of Khal-Nalim city paled in comparison.

The sun began to sink low, and customers became few and far between. Most of the stalls closed shop, some even packed up and headed south for the Gem of the Angel Coast, Dawn; a large resort city on the south-eastern tip of Haka.

Karu strode into the market confidently, but with a worn-out look on his face. He hadn't slept a second since Alistair delivered that message over twenty-four hours before.

Wendir followed close behind, hunched over and panting for the two large bowguns on his back, and both of their packs.
"Come. We are going to get supplies."

Karu and Wendir approached a small, shanty stall, with the prices and times written in a language foreign to most Himeroonians or Hakarian natives. Karu calmly stepped towards the man who sat beyond the counter, a small, plump fellow with tanned skin and blonde hair. He was Lynian in origin, for he was too small to be human, and his ears were long and floppy.

"We need supplies."

The Lynian looked up from his magazine, his glasses slipping off his slits of eyes and onto his red little nose.
"We closed. Closed an hour ago. Moving south. Green Season over."
Karu's emerald green eyes narrowed, a sure sign you had done something wrong.
"Your hours say you don't close until sunset," said Karu, pointing to the sign written in a foreign language, "and if my eyes are still functioning correctly, sunset has yet to come."

The shopkeeper mumbled angrily in an exotic language. "How you-"
"Know Nalimian? I was born in Jinn village, a small mining town south of Sandbrim. Raised in Khal-Nalim half of my life. I know the desert language better than I know Himeroonian or Hakarian."

The Lynian snorted and mumbled again, this time in a different language, though it had the same pitch, just spoken faster.
"No, I do not associate myself with the whores or street urchins here in Kaito. I am a civilized type of man, unlike some people."
At this, the little Lynian left his mouth agape, and nearly tipped out of his stool. "But you-"
"Shouldn't know Eastern Mou'thasar Ak'hailiin? Probably the fourth language I learned. I am quite well-versed in our land's rich lore. Now, is this a questionnaire about my personal life, or are you just lonely? I need supplies."

The Lynian again mumbled, but this time it was indistinct, unlikely any form of speech at all. He stood, dropping his magazine (which turned out to be a series of photographs and drawings of nude Nalimian dancers) and tipped over his stool.
"Get out of my store! Leave Kaito! You not belong here!"
"Ah, but I'm afraid you're quite far from home yourself, my little furry-eared friend. I, on the other hand, come from Jumbo, just north of this city."

The little man was fuming in anger, and his floppy ears were twitching in rage."Buy something or get out!"
"I dare say that's what I've been trying to do for quite some time. I need a map of Southern Haka, including the Badlands and Mount Kazairn, in addition to its intricate tunnel system."
"Map like that very expensive. Very hard to find. I sell you one, but eighty-thousand Zeni!"

Karu again narrowed his eyebrows, and focused the bold green orbs on a map, gathering dust in the back of the shop. It showed a coastline marked "Sashiir Aroba Zenako-'Angel Coast'". It was definitely of Southern Haka… and the price tag clearly said five-hundred Tairos, or roughly seven-hundred Zeni.
"Very well," said Karu in Nalimian. The shopkeeper seemed pleased finally, and his anger subsided.
"Excellent. Pay up front, and the map is all yours, dear customer," replied the Lynian in his native language.
"Of course," said Karu, tossing a black, oval-shaped object to the Lynian, while secretly handing something to Wendir from beneath the counter.
"Wait a minute, this is not-"
"What you were expecting?" said Karu in a raspy, machine-like voice. The Lynian looked up to see the two men standing before him, strange masks covering their faces.

"Ish'taku… B-Bast'iiva… N'mora…" the Lynian managed to mutter, before the gas emitting from the black little device in his hand knocked him clean out. He hit the floor, his floppy ears bouncing wildly, and his droopy old mouth slapping the nude women on the cover of his magazine. It was soon covered in drool.
"F'raevu N'gastar , Tos'Lekos," muttered Karu, as he tossed several Tairos coins onto the table. He then grabbed the map, and strode off away from the stall. Wendir sighed, and ran to catch up to him.
"Did you really need to do that?"
"No choice. Unfair business leads to unexpected incidents."
Wendir sighed again.
"Well what did he say before he blacked out?"
"Go fuck yourself, but in very poor translation."
Wendir chuckled darkly. "And what did you say?"
Karu folded the map up, and stowed it in a pouch on his waist.
"Rest well, my furry-eared friend."

Vance and Zane stood on the edge of a small, weathered cliff, facing the wide-ranging, sun scorched plains of the Badlands. Hundreds of tents and campsites were strewn across the field; refugees from the destruction the Tsunami had caused near the coast.
"Now I know why they call it the Badlands," said Vance with a chuckle, heading down the cliff. "What the hell happened here, anyway?"

"War," replied Zane. "About a decade ago. Countless Wyverns migrated here during a tropical storm. Hunters had to fight them off. It worked, but it took many months, and much tactical preparation and man-power was needed to overrun the beasts. The jungle here was burnt down in the resulting carnage, leaving behind this torn, burnt, and seemingly endless field."
Vance scoffed. "You sure know your stuff, old buddy. Wish I had paid attention in Guild Knight training."
"Someone needs the brains to support the both of us," chuckled the burly Zane, following his ally down the slope.
"I wish Alistair was here with us so he could see this shithole. We would have a good laugh or two, maybe a smoke."
"That's why I love ya', Vance. You're so fucked up."

Vance grinned in the same, charming yet roguish grin. Then the two made their way towards the first campsite, where an informant was waiting for them. If only they heard the low, almost inaudible bellows from the thicket of trees behind them.