Survival was paramount; everything else didn't matter till survival was secured.
At least, that was what Frederica Baumann remembered from a book she once read. She was confident it was being accomplished now and that everything that happened in the past week and a half could finally be talked about without worrying about those creatures attacking them.
The silence in the small encampment said otherwise; even when they had a book detailing the local language and settlements as well as a few other pieces of helpful information, they still needed to make a move to talk about it. Fredrica leveled her gaze on Petra and Ram. The two rested at the opposite end of the encampment, with Petra laid against Ram, soundly asleep. All the while Ram poured over the contents within their book.
Frederica didn't know how to feel about that book, about Petra's savior. Though she was thankful someone was out there that ended up saving the young girl, their disappearance and leaving of a book unnerved her. She couldn't fathom what was running through that person's mind, and the book frightened her because it was written by someone from their world and intended for others from their world to navigate this strange new world.
Meaning they weren't the first to end up stuck here. How many had ended up here? How many had died here?
Looking back down the hillside, she wondered when Garfiel and Otto would return. The two had gone into the local settlement an hour south to talk to the locals. Otto, after all, still had his divine protection, which made him an easy pick for conversing with the locals. Garfiel also had his divine protection on top of his physical prowess if anything went wrong. There was also the fact that they still had access to their magic as mana flowed through this world as it did their own. Though recovering their mana took longer than it usually would, something wasn't right about it. It felt like their bodies were weaker in a way, different. But their gates could still take it in, so she made do with that.
The only genuinely confusing thing to any of them was why their divine protections still worked.
Frederica could recall that back in their world, if one were to cut themselves off from the world, then they would lose their divine protection. Yet, here in this other world, they still functioned.
For Frederica, It was easier to believe that mana could exist outside of their world; it was much harder to think that something gifted from Od Laguna itself at birth would still function without its presence. Maybe it had to do with their transportation to this world.
That didn't mean Frederica wasn't thankful that they still worked; with Otto's divine protection, he was able to get them through the fastest and quickest paths to where they were now, which was marginally warmer and less snow-covered than where they had arrived in this new world.
The grass rustled next to Frederica as the faintest of sobs reached her ears. She looked to her immediate left, frowning at the despondent shuffling Emilia. The Half-Elf had buried her face into her knees and sat next to the slumbering Rem. Frederica silently wondered whether her lady was in any good mental condition. She had noticed that The Half-Elf would become increasingly quiet after the first two days. It infuriated Frederica to see their camp's leader shut off, but at the same time, she couldn't fault her entirely. Subaru meant everything to the Half-Elf; he was a pillar of support for the royal candidate. With him gone, let alone considered a hunting trophy by his killer, would inevitably hit Emilia the hardest out of all of them.
It just took some time to set in.
And what frightened Frederica the most was what Emilia would do when she came to terms with it. In its own way, the tragedy was a pathway to potentially darker paths.
Silently gulping at an array of possibilities, Frederica returned her attention to the hillside and looked at her feet, her shoes dirty and wet. All of her clothing was just dirty. The whole camp was unsanitary and smelly. They hadn't had a chance for a bath, and it was showing more and more in recent days. Frederica hoped that Otto and her brother could work something out in the settlement; whether it was a brief place to stay the night and wash up, even get a change of clothing, or a permanent place to stay would be nice.
Somewhere safe and away from the threat chasing them.
A gust of wind picked up through the encampment, carrying it with the stench of the others. The foul scent of dirt, grime, sweat, and other bodily smells hit Frederica's nose. She cringed slightly at the smell as she gritted her sharp teeth.
Frederica's mind wandered back to the threat that hunted them. She wondered why any living being could consider hunting others for sport. Especially with such vitriol with a good splash of superiority, as Otto had said it. It reminded her of the Bowel Hunter, Elsa Grainheart.
But this Araksis didn't prioritize disemboweling people, just from Subaru's corpse alone; he left his victims in a state that was far more ethically killed than what the famous Bowel Hunter did. Frederica sighed, digging her fingers into her temples.
Of course, there was the Fallen and the race Araksis belonged to, the odd name aside. The camp had been able to gather from just their brief encounter and what little information existed in the book about them was that they were all but scavengers in name and that the name Fallen wasn't even their species' original name. That was what the people of this world referred to them as.
The Fallen were a strange foreign bunch, and Frederica hoped she would never have to deal with them again once they were at this so-called 'Last city.'
Standing up from her spot, Frederica stretched her limbs from the growing stiffness, her mind briefly wondering how the other two Emilia camp members were fairing.
From the corner of her eyes, Frederica noticed something move, and her attention snapped to one of the trees overlooking the encampment. She squinted at the tree and took a step forward, "Frederica, is something wrong?"
Frederica's attention snapped from the tree to the calm and collected Ram, "N-No… thought I must have seen someone." The Demi-human rubbed her eyes softly, sighing, "I think I just need some rest, hopefully soon…."
/.\./.\./.\
Otto saw the settlement, rusted metal and wooden housing with thick black bundles of wire interconnecting them, some leading down into a nearby sinkhole. But there wasn't a single person in sight. A: dead quiet hung over the town.
"Where's everyone?" Garfiel curiously voiced that he had never expected a town to be so quiet.
Otto and Garfiel made their way further into the settlement, seeing buildings labeled in a language they couldn't understand but familiar enough visually to the one they saw when they first entered this world.
The sound source came from a nearby building, "What's that?" Garfiel curiously asked as he took a step towards the building.
Otto looked at it calmly, observing; after a minute, he spoke, "A tavern of some kind; seems everyone is in there." Otto wondered what type of people lived here; would they be kind and welcoming to a bunch of strangers passing through? Od, who knows? But it would be better than the other alternative of continuing, right?
"Think I can get a drink?" Garfiel asked with a wide toothy grin
"I will do the talking. Just keep quiet, alright, Garf. N-no need to uh go and upset the locals, right?" Otto gave his friend a soft smile only to receive a nod from his brother, "And just don't tell Frederica-san if you have one."
Once inside the building, they were greeted by loud music, voices, and stares. The only one that could understand it verbally was Otto. The Tavern was dimly lit; smoke hung in the air as Otto took a step forward, and then another with Garfiel following in from behind, and with each step, tavern goers began to turn their attention to the newcomers.
"Who're they?"
"Odd clothes, city folk?"
"Not city folk. Smell like shit. 'nother settlement?"
Sweat beaded down Otto's face as he heard the occupants beginning to notice them, part of him counted his blessing that he could understand them and that his divine protection still worked in this world, while the other part wondered if it was more a curse than a blessing at the moment. The people sure were rude in their comments.
"Hey!"
"!" Otto snapped his attention to the far right, an older greyed man gesturing for him to come over. Taking a seat at the table, Otto could get a good look at the older man, grizzled and aged with fine white hair slicked back and tied into a ponytail, his beard long and groomed. He wore a leather coat that looked a tad large, his undershirt a white button-up.
Otto leaned into the back of the chair; neither he nor Garfiel made a sound as the older man stared them down. "You look parched, have a drink on me." The man spoke with a rough tone as he made a gesture with a trembling right hand.
The older man sat straight in his seat, letting out a soft grunt as a woman brought over four glasses and a bottle of amber liquid. The man thanked the woman before grabbing the bottle and popping the cap pouring the contents into the three glasses, his unsteady trembling hand allowing the liquid to spill slightly. With the three glasses filled, two slid toward Otto and Garfiel.
The two glanced at each other as they went for their drinks; a simple whiff alerted them that it was a type of alcohol with a robust wood-ash smell.
The man brought the glass to his lips, drinking deeply before placing it down with a content sigh, "Tell me what brings two shit smellers out here to our settlement." The man sniffled and cleared his throat as his hands rested on the table, shaking. "Drink up; that's fine, moonshine right there. Don't waste it."
Otto flinched at the name he and Garfiel were given and the man's piercing gaze. Despite the older man's appearance, he still held an intimidating air around him. A nervous chuckle escaped from his lips, "Well, you see. We're travelers trying to find a safe place to stay, sir." he reached for his offered drink, slowly bringing it close to his chest.
While Garfiel grabbed his curiously, raising it to his nose and smelling it.
The older man leaned into the back of his chair, fingers tapping the table as he gave an incredulous look of disbelief, "Uh-huh. Came from a distant settlement, then?" He craned his head off to the side before coughing into his hand, "Boy, don't just sniff the damn drink. Drink it!" The older man barked.
Garfiel, who couldn't understand a single word from anyone around him, could hazard a healthy guess as to what the old geezer was saying to him. The demi-human brought the glass to his lips and downed the contents in one go.
"Damn, one go, huh." The older man spoke with amusement as he gestured back for the glass; once receiving it, he would fill it back up, hands still unsteady, before sliding the full glass to Garfiel. Leaning back into his seat again, he looked Otto right in the eyes, "So, mind telling me where you came from?"
Otto gulped and kept his nerves as steeled as he could, even as sweat began to bead down his forehead. "Y-yes! Northwest from here." It wasn't a lie, and besides, if he talked of the truth, what would people say? Would they believe him? Would they chase him out? This man was the first human they had seen in a week since arriving, and their first meeting was already not going well in Otto's eyes.
The man looked at Otto intensely; leaning forward a bit, he licked his lips and spat into a spare cup before finally speaking, "Bullshit. The only thing that way now is Fallen Territory and the Cosmodrome. If you came from the northwest, you would've been with the caravan coming through soon." His gaze was firm, stone cold, "Just looking at you two, you don't got a single gun on you, and your clothing ain't anything I have ever seen. Mind telling me the truth? Cause there ain't a blasted way, you and your friend managed to make it through all that horseshit."
Otto gulped, pulling on the collar of his shirt, sweat forming on his forehead, "W-well-"
A loud bang filled Otto's ears as he flinched and lowered his head, only to turn his lowered head to the source, the tavern's entrance.
A tall, lean shirtless muscular man stood at the entrance with a gun. Otto recalled what he could about firearms. The book that Petra had been given had mentioned them. He didn't lift his head too much enough to gain a good look at the weapon in question. Small but not too small, large and heavy, a six-round cylinder and a long barrel. If he had to hazard a guess and place a bet, he would put his mark on it. What did they call them? Hand cannons?
The man in question oozed an air of authority as he stepped further into the Tavern; boots loudly hit the ground as long baggy pants shuffled. The man had a striking pair of blue eyes, and his black hair was slicked back by some type of gel. Other men dressed in more protective gear began to file into the tavern. Nine new people in total by the time they all filtered in.
The group's unquestionable leader pranced around the bar's open floor, walking by tables, running his hands along some of the occupant's shoulders, caressing one's cheeks in one moment, "What do we have here? I expected a nice greeting, someone to bring me the promised supplies. But here you all are!"
Otto gulped as the man glanced over in their direction briefly.
"So, anyone wanna tell me what's going on here? What's the occasion? Did I come in on a town holiday?" The man spoke loudly.
Garfiel growled; he couldn't quite understand what the man was saying, but just feeling the change in the air, the fear, and the terror. He knew that this man wasn't here for any good reason.
"I see that look in your eyes, don't do a thing, boy. It's better to let the man showboat. No one gets harmed." The older man spoke in a firm, calm tone that even someone like Garfiel, who could not understand the older man, could get.
"Where's Grisby?" The man spun around his weapon, flagging the occupants of the taverns before lowering it to the ground, "Come on, you little fat fuck, get out here before I point my gun at something other than the floor." He stopped as he looked up the balcony smiling as a small, well-dressed portly man adjusting his tie came into view.
Grisby's face was laced with streams of sweat, his hands adjusting his long tie constantly. He made a slight cough into his hands before speaking, "S-Sh-Shang, what do you want?"
The gun-toting man trotted around once more, flagging his weapon at every occupant he could, his arms outstretched as he made grand gestures, a hurt tone escaping his lips, "What do I want? You know what I want, the supplies. The food, the materials. All that nice stuff you guys give us." He stopped in the middle of his pacing, looking at Garfiel with a toothy grin as he gestured for two of the men who had followed him to head for their table.
As the two men circled their table, "W-we barely had anything for ourselves this harvest, and we can't spare-"
Shang snapped back with a snarl, "Can't spare! What do you mean, Gris? You've kept supplying us for a good couple of years." his tone quickly turned into a more jovial curiosity.
Grisby pulled on the collar of his shirt, sputtering and muttering, "I-it's the weather and a-animals this harvest w-w-we c-co-couldn't get everything."
"Oh, well, you better come up with something." Shang leveled his large hand cannon at the man, "Or else I start-" Otto closed his eyes in fear as he steeled himself for the loud noise to follow. At the same time, Garfiel growled, biting his lower lip as his eyes looked between the two men that circled their table, noticing that their fingers rested on the trigger.
"Why don't you fuckers leave us alone!"
Shang swung around, waving his gun across the crowd with a snarl plastered across his lips. "Who said that?" His tone was laced with venom. Shang's men stood at attention, aiming at the crowd.
"I did!" A young man in the crowd of people stood up from his seat, a look of burning hate etched into his hazel brown eyes. He looked closely around Otto's age; his clothing consisted of a white shirt and blue overalls. His skin was tan from years of hard work out in the sun, his hair was a ginger red, and freckles dotted his face.
One of Shang's men walked up to the young lad, pulling him out of the crowd and placing him right in the open part of the room.
Shang walked smoothly up to the young man, an uncomfortable movement of his hips unsettling everyone staring at him. As Shang walked up to the young man staring him down, the bandit's free hand shot forward and grabbed the young man by the chin, pursing their lips together with their thumb and index finger, "Well, don't you just got one pretty mouth there."
"Shut up!" The young man snapped at Shang, almost biting the man's fingers before reaching for something on his side-
A hand cannon smaller than Shang fell to the ground while the young man grabbed his hand, screaming in pain, "AHHH!" Blood dripped from the boy's hand, or where his hand used to be, all that remained was a meaty mess of flesh and blood.
Otto flicked his attention to Garfiel, hearing the young man growling, teeth-gritting, "Garfiel…." He whispered as his eyes quickly flicked to the man that stood on his left, noticing that the silent man had his fingers on the trigger.
Shang lowered his weapon, the barrel of his gun smoking as he sighed, "Oh, look what you made me do. I had to blast a hole into your hand. Well, I guess it's a stump now." He holstered his hand cannon, "I will admit you almost got me there."
"That…." It was clear Garfiel was on the cusp of bursting with rage.
Otto placed a firm hand on Garfiel's shoulder, "Garfiel, please don't." He wouldn't lose another to this world, not a single one from the camp. He wouldn't lose another brother. He turned his head back to the ongoing situation.
"You know, you're outnumbered; eight guys with assault rifles and me with my nice hand cannon. You still tried to kill me." Shang amusedly chuckled as he pranced around the young man.
"I'm not mad; honestly, I am thrilled you tried that and almost could've taken me down."
The young man could only look at the man with bewilderment, "What?"
Shang grinned, "What's with that look? Come on. I am being honest here." He leaned forward, bringing his face closer to the young man, "What's your name?" Shang calmly asked.
The young man gripped his missing stump, bitting down on his lips, before speaking, "Miller Herbert."
Shang squinted his brow, looking at the young man with a sharp huff; he stood straight and trounced around the young man, "Herbert… Miller… Oh! I remember your family, the second or third to last one standing, huh? Sorry bout the fire. But damn, you've grown. I remember when you were this little." The man moved his free hand closer to the ground to emphasize his point, "Anyways, I'm not going to kill you." A grin had entirely replaced the snarl on Shang's face, and from how his body language shifted, he was amused by Millers' antics as he squatted down next to the boy.
Miller gulped pained gasps, "O-oh."
Shang rubbed his chin, chuckling as he placed his hands on the young man's shoulder, "Yeah, relax, my friend. You've got balls. Honestly, none of these other limp-dicked settlers would've done what you've done here; not even your excuse of a sheriff could've done that." He almost pulled Miller into a hug.
The Sheriff remained silent at the call out from the gunman, his gaze fixated on his glass of alcohol.
Shang stood up, patting Miller on the shoulder, "I like a man with balls; it means you are strong, my friend. If you ever felt it, you could join us one day, ransacking other towns in some far-off place and avoiding Fallen," Shang circled the young man like a predator, a sharp grin on his face, "ooooorrrr, Guardians. So be a bandit. be proud you impressed me." He gave another shoulder pat before standing in front of Miller back to the young man as he looked at Otto's table with a wide smile. Shang turned around once more on his heel, a finger raised, a sickening sweet question flowing from his lips, "Say, your brother, sister, and mother are still alive?"
Miller nodded, barely speaking through the pain, "Y-yeah. Th-th-there at h-h-home."
A loud bang and thud followed, panicked screams filling the room as Shang shouted above it all, "Alright, anyone else! Have any balls to share!" He looked around the room with a grin. "Good! Next time I'm here, you better have something for us, so I'll see you beautiful people in a week and a half. bye~!"
Garfiel slammed his hands into the wood table, growling as he stood up and turned around to face the man, only for another bang to hit the ears of everyone. The blonde-haired boy's eyes were wide as blood trickled down the side of his face, his hand slowly lifting his left hand to feel it.
The barrel of Shang's gun smoked, the man's face an unnatural calm to it, his boots stamped across the wooden floor as he made his way to the middle of the Tavern. "What did I say a minute ago? Anyone else!" He moved around, swinging his gun with his right arm, flagging the bar's occupants. Shang stopped in his tracks before loudly asking, "Have any balls to share?" Shang turned on his heel, walked right up to Garfiel, and pressed the barrel of his gun directly into Garfiel's temple, "You seem to have a pair and are pretty lucky."
Otto gulped as he felt the urge to cower and curl up into a ball; sweat ran down his face, "You know I was originally gonna come over here and ask who you fine men were, but then I decided that I would spare you the trouble of talking to me. But now, since you are an angry little boy." Shang's index finger began to apply pressure to the trigger.
The bar had become so quiet that the only sound that could be heard was the wooden floor creaking.
"You know, I would've taken that whole side of your face off had my bullet been a little closer." Shang increased the pressure of the barrel, a snarl on his lips equal to the one Garfiel gave, "Wanna see what happens when I pull the trigger now? Think your brains will make some pretty art." As their eyes were locked, Shang's would snap off the side.
A loud thunderous bang filled the bar.
Garfiel fell to the ground clutching his left ear, the barrel smoking, and the cries of the older man were loud and clear; the Sheriff painfully rested against the wall cradling his right arm, hissing as he looked to the gunman.
"Damn, were you about to reach for your gun?" Shang spoke with a sigh as he reached over to his left, grabbing Otto's untouched drink, "You know that's a bad idea, Sheriff." The man raised his leg back and kicked Garfiel in the stomach, his hand cannon now aiming again at Garfiel's head.
Despite the pain, the older man was undoubtedly in, he still managed to talk with a loud, stern voice, "That's enough, Shang! Why don't you get out of here with your boys? You already spilled enough blood today, and we don't need anymore." The Sheriff gritted his teeth, clutching his right arm tighter, "And… I wasn't grabbing my damn gun… Don't… use it no more."
Shang looked between the prone Garfiel and the Sheriff. He then looked to the fearful Otto and glanced over his shoulder to the rest of his men, who had guns trained on the Tavern's occupants. He let out a soft 'hmm' as he scratched his chin before downing the content of the glass, "Fine, remember what I said. See ya, sheriff!" Shang sang as he slammed the empty glass on the table and stepped back, holstering his weapon and heading for the entrance to the tavern; he made a small gesture. The two men around Otto and company peeled off immediately like attack dogs.
Within a few minutes, all the gunmen left the bar leaving only the distressed behind. In a matter of minutes, most, if not all, patrons had filtered out of the bar in a rushed panic. Leaving behind a skeleton of what once was. The sheriff at that time had gotten up and made his way over to the bar counter, resting his arm as he grabbed a knife from the woman from before, digging it into his wound to pull out the bullet lodged within his arm.
Otto offered his hand to Garfiel, helping him up before turning his attention to the Sheriff.
The Sheriff spoke, teeth gritted, his shaky, unsteady hands holding the sharp tool, only cutting and drawing more blood which soaked the arm of his jacket, "Y-you two boys, best get… yourselves out of here soon. Don't stay long." The older man howled in pain, dropping the knife onto the counter as the woman placed her hand on his shoulder.
"Let me try, Sheriff.."
Otto watched as the woman began to take off the Sheriff's jacket, his attention flicking back to Garfiel just as quickly as he heard his brother growl, "Garf…."
The scowl on the Demi-Human face grew only wider as he bared his teeth, speaking with a low tone laced with rage, "He didn't do anythin'; why?"
Otto gulped before looking back to the Sheriff, wincing as blood flowed from the wound on his arm onto the counter; the Emilia Camp's Merchant spoke with a stutter, "S-sir, why didn't you do anything?"
"What'd you think, boy? I'm old and getting more tired every day, and I'm the only one with any experience killing a man." The Sheriff cried as the bartender took the knife into his wound once more
Garfiel snapped back immediately, "That's not n'excuse! I-"
"CHRIST!" The bullet lodged in the man's arm fell onto the bar counter before rolling onto the floor; the bartender reached for a bottle of alcohol. "Oh hush, I know that look, boy. What are you going to do against nine men, all of them strapped with firearms? Got a fancy power or something, boy? Are you a guardian? They still have guns and many more men to throw at you." The Sheriff growled in pain as the alcohol poured onto his wound, "SHIT!"
The Sheriff stood up, hands shaking as he walked right up to Garfiel and stared him in the eyes, cold dead eyes boring into the expressive gaze of the Demi-Human, "This world will take whatever you show it, chew it up and spit right back out at you. I've seen things, boy, horrible, horrible things." He then pointed towards the entrance of the tavern.
"So, get whatever you need done and get out of town while you can. Best talk to the Mayor, Grisby; he's currently upstairs in his office." The sheriff hobbled out of the tavern in pain, holding his bandage arm with the other, cursing foul words as he left.
Eventually, the two young men would find themselves outside the Tavern, Garfiel pacing about and Otto leaning against the wall staring into the ground as his mind worked over time.
Garfiel kicked the ground kicking up dirt, "My amazin' self can't believe this, these people…." He looked at Otto with a worried frown.
Otto sighed; he knew the pain Garfiel was going through, "I know, there has to be something we can do. It's just we're being chased still by the Fallen and-" This all felt slightly familiar. It was missing a tomb, a crazy clown, killer rabbits, and hired killers.
"We can't juss let 'em be abused like this!" Garfiel interrupted with a scowl as he placed his hands on Otto's shoulders, gripping them tightly.
"I know, but I am not sure what we can do. They have those guns, and who knows what else they could have… I wish Natsuki-san were here, and he'd know what to do."
Garfiel clicked his tongue and looked away from Otto, and his head hung low as his eyes narrowed.
"We should go back in and see the mayor."
The Mayor's office was a sight to behold, an apocalyptic mess of a room. Papers and books littered the floors and the many desks around the room. Some books piled up on top of each other.
As the door closed behind them with a hefty thud, the Mayor, Grisby, a portly man with thick grey hair, jumped in his seat, "Oh! Hello there! S-sorry you had to see our business; we usually have this all sorted out by this time." The portly man tugged on the collar of his suit, "But you shouldn't worry about that, of course; instead, what may I help you two with?" He paused before he stood up partially from his seat, looking to either chair opposite his desk, "Uh, here, uh, Move those books anywhere's fine just… Keep'em ordered if you can."
Otto grabbed his pile of books and placed them off to the side before taking a seat in the seat of the chair, his back resting well into the lovely green fabric, "Well, we were hoping we could get some form of help, you see we're new around here, and we have been traveling for quite a while." It wasn't a total lie, just an omission of the truth. He didn't feel too comfortable just going around and telling people that they were from another world. His mercantile nature wouldn't allow him and unlike the Sheriff. Grisby wasn't intimidating in the slightest.
Grisby wiped his forehead of forming sweat, "Travelers? From the west, it must've come from a small, unnoticed settlement. Almost everything that way is mostly Fallen territory. The only thing even coming from there would be. Gosh, that heavily armed caravan here soon."
Otto nodded his head at Grisby's words, "We have traveled very far, my name is Otto Suwen, and my friend here is Garfiel Tinsel."
Grisby let out a jovial chuckle looking between the two young men, "Certainly, you must be tired. We have a communal bath house you can use to freshen up. I won't lie; you do smell a little rank. Then you can hit the local inn if you like; they don't charge travelers for staying the night, though their food services are costly." He paused with a small smile, though it quickly became a frown, "But I don't advise you and your group to stay much longer than a few days. If I might ask, where are you traveling to?"
"T-The Last City." Otto blurted out.
The portly man's brows perked at Otto's statement, "The Last City? Hmm, I see. If that's the case," The Mayor stood up from his seat, shuffling from it to one of his many bookshelves. He examined each one murmuring to himself before opening the third drawer, "Ah, here we go. We have a caravan coming through town soon. They had scouts come in not long ago requesting whatever provisions we could give them for when they arrived." The Mayor calmly walked back to his seat, sitting back in the well-worn chair, "You could try hitching a ride with them; it might be best considering they will be here before Shang's short deadline. At least that is what they optimistically told me."
"Optimistically?" Otto craned his head to the side curiously.
Grisby sighed, shaking his head, "Yes, I am afraid that traveling in big groups tends to be tedious, dangerous, and resource intensive. From what I can gather, they had to make their way along the edge of Fallen territory carefully," The Mayor coughed into his hand before clearing his throat, "All the way from old Ukraine, a little through old Russia, and skipping their best way through the Cosmodrome." He tugged on the shirt collar as he got up from his seat, shuffling over to a nearby desk and opening the drawer, "Now give me a minute; I need to take my meds."
Otto silently nodded as he looked over to Garfiel, whispering to his brother as quietly as he could, "Garf, I am not sure what we can do. It sounds like we will need to leave as soon as possible."
"We can't just leave, Brotto. Cap'n would never allow a situation like this to keep going." Garfiel spoke.
"I… Know." Otto frowned, thinking of what to do, what to say. He thought back to what his friend would do. What would Natsuki-san do? What would he do?
"Ah!" Otto jerked his head back at the loud noise, torn from his thoughts, as he looked to the coughing Grisby, who was patting his chest.
The Merchant glanced at Garifel, shooting him a readable look. 'What do we do?' Only to receive a clueless shrug.
Grisby's cough worsened, but after a second, he stopped coughing, and his body went slack and slumped against the desk. Twitching. Otto and Garifel looked at the scene with wide eyes, unsure of what they had just witnessed with the Demi-Human beginning to get out of his chair.
Only for the portly man to shoot back, gasping for air, his face red as he slowly began to pull himself back up.
"What the fuck…." Garfiel whispered, horrified by what had transpired within the last few minutes.
Once Grisby got back up on his feet, he turned around to face Otto and Garfiel, his face red and sweat dripping down his head. "Ah… Sorry about that, boys. My meds are a bit hard to keep down. It has been like that for years. I should've warned you before I gave you quite the scare. It's a psychological habit of mine. Uh, anyways, where were we?" He chuckled nervously.
"You were talking about a caravan," Otto answered as he wasn't sure what else to say.
"Ah! Yes, it's not easy for a big group like theirs to make it through all that, but that's why the Pilgrim Guard exists. They said something about the Titans of that wonderful order running distractions and occasional meet-ups."
"What's the-" Otto attempted to speak, only to be interrupted by the portly man.
"Which is code for they were blowing things up, and oh! Sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt you. Go on. What were you going to say?" Grisby nervously chuckled before wiping away the sweat on his brow.
"What's the Pilgrim Guard?" Otto asked.
Grisby's eyes widened, "You don't know them? It must be a real backwater place you and your friends walked out. Frankly, I have never met someone who lacked so much common knowledge, no offense!"
"None taken." No reason to get offended since it was the truth, Otto reasoned as he presented a lie with his following few words, "We came from a super secluded village; it was attacked and destroyed by the Fallen."
Grisby's eyes narrowed at Otto's lie, a soft hmm escaping his lips as he cupped his chin, "I see. That is quite an interesting place, then. It must be secluded near a deadzone. Oh well, nothing to dwell on." Grisby laughed, waving it off.
Otto internally sighed, "So, about those bandits. They were led by a… Shang? Was it?"
"Yes, good ole Shang." The Mayor dryly spoke, "They've been around for quite some time; they come to take our food and supplies, promise not to murder us all. It's an exclusively beneficial relationship…." The snark rose in those last few words.
"If I may ask, what does Shang want outside of food."
Grisby looked at Otto, then leaned over to his left, pulling a drawer on his side, opening it up, and pulling out a small piece of paper. He passed it to Otto.
The handwriting was something Otto couldn't understand, but looking at it felt like each character looked crudely drawn, illegible. It didn't take much to put that together.
"As you can see, resources, whatever ammunition we have on hand. Towels, Spinmetal, all sorts of things. Supplies we could use here to make the harvest better, supplies we did use to keep up on the maintenance of our farms' machines."
"Has it been that bad that each harvest is getting worse yearly?"
Grisby sighed, exhausted, leaning into his well-worn leather chair, "Yes, the harvests have been getting worse each year, and the bandits don't help, and neither does the caravan we promised supplies for, but we'll have to make do. We overuse the land to try and keep up, but god… we don't have a choice."
Otto gulped before pulling on the collar of his shirt, "I-If I may ask, uh. Why don't you take the supplies for this caravan and give them to the bandits?"
"I won't deny a fellow man in need, and much like you, they are heading for the city too. Perhaps you should consider joining them if they arrive before Shang's date."
A small silence fell on the room, only broken a few moments later by Otto, who began to ask about the older man they had met in the Tavern. The one referred to as the Sheriff.
Grisby answered quickly, "The Sheriff? If I am being honest, I don't know his name, and he won't tell it. But if you want to talk to him, he lives outside on the far edge of the town, right at the peak of a small hill overlooking a pit into the local cave system." The Portly man tugged at the collar of his shirt, "Anything else you want to ask?"
"No, sir."
Otto and Garfiel got out of their seats and headed to the door but stopped as Grisby spoke, "Wait just a moment! Before you go, I have a question."
Otto went stiff, and he could feel the hair on his body rigid, goosebumps spreading across his arms, "U-Uh, what is t-the question?" He asked as he turned around to face the mayor.
"Well, your friend here. He hasn't spoken. I am just curious as to why."
Otto lookee to Garfiel and then back at the man, his mind racing to think of a plausible reason, "W-Well, where he is from, they don't speak a c-co-common language like us."
"But you do." Grisby gesutred at Otto.
"Well, you see, I happened to wander into their village a few years ago and picked up the language," Otto explained.
"Oh! You didn't bother to teach them English?" Grisby questioned with a raised brow.
English was the common language spoken? Otto blessed himself for such luck. "Yes, I didn't think I would be with them for this long." He chuckled.
"Ah, well, carry on. Sorry for bothering you about that." Grisby apologized.
Otto waved it off, "It's no problem, sir."
With that, the two left.
/.\./.\./.\
The two young men returned to their camp after discussing with the Mayor; neither spoke of the events. It was late, and neither wished to ruin the sleep of the others. The Emilia camp had a peaceful sleep. Spending one more night in the wilderness with Garfiel and Ram taking up a rotational guard to ensure no unwanted guests snuck up on them.
Day came as fast as night arrived, the coals of a long-dead fire now tiny glowing embers within a pile of ash. The Camp ate a quick breakfast after doing a small hunt, and Otto explained the events from yesterday. They then proceeded to get ready with what they had and began their hour-long trek toward the town.
Garfiel took the lead, and Frederica followed behind, carrying the comatose Rem on her back as Petra tailed the elder maid. At the group's rear, Emilia lagged behind the despondent half-elf having her gaze lowered to the ground.
Ram looked at Otto, her face neutral. "So, this town has a bandit problem, but how bad is it? You never quite said how bad." Otto nodded his head before sighing.
"Y-yes, it's a bad one. They. It's hard to explain, but a few locals clarified that we shouldn't stay here for too long."
"How many bandits?"
"Nine, but I don't think nine people could beat a town into submission… Who knows how many of them there are, and they have guns." Otto cringed at the thought of the weapons, so much firepower packed into a relatively small frame. It couldn't outclass stronger magic users, and there were those he was sure could shrug off their projectiles, like the Sword Saint or Garfiel in his beast form.
"Guns, such uncivil weapons." Ram huffed as she crossed her arms. "It sounds like something Barusu would use. Therefore they'd be as useless as him against someone like Garfiel or me."
Otto recalled the horrible sight from yesterday, and he cringed. "T-they're effective though, goddamn. Even you might have problems with them, Ram."
Ram looked at Otto with a glare, "Hmph, as if I would have problems with them." She spoke with confidence as she shot Otto with a faint smile.
The two walked side by side, quiet as either glanced over their shoulder to the emotionally distant Emilia.
"Yeah… Do you think…" Otto didn't even need to finish his sentence to get the message across as Ram shot him a subtle somber look.
"The loss of Barusu continues to weigh on her; I have advised her it would be best to forget about that useless pervert and move on," Ram stated affirmatively with a small huff, but even Otto could see through her guise.
He knew Ram missed Subaru. She just wouldn't express it.
"What about you? Don't you feel anything with Natsuki-san being gone?"
Ram looked at Otto and then looked away, "I don't feel anything in particular. The only use he had was about gluttony and my sister."
Otto didn't answer back; he knew deep below that cold exterior Ram cared about Subaru and his death.
The Camp soon made their way into town, getting a large number of stares from the locals. But Otto took the lead in this situation, asking for directions to the communal bathhouse.
The Bathhouse was spacious, the walls and floor lined with wooden planks coated in a seal giving it a welcoming shine. There were a few couches situated against the room's borders, and to their immediate left was a front desk with a young man sleeping face buried between his arms. His skin was a tan brown, splotched across his arms were freckles, and his hair was a dark mess of uncombed locks. An audible snore could be heard from him.
Otto approached the sleeping young man, softly coughing into his hand before speaking, "H-H-Hello?"
Nothing.
Otto said, "Hello, we are here to use the bathhouse?"
Nothing.
Otto gulped and reached forward with his hand, poking the shoulder of the young man.
The young man snores quickly ended, choking on spit as his face slowly raised from his arms, skin red from pressing into it for too long, while drool ran down his chin and neck. His blue eyes were half-open, his head swung left and right, a glob of saliva swinging around as it hung from his lips. "Uh, huh?"
Otto nervously stepped back as the line of drool flung about; he could feel his skin tingle in disgust as the slobbish young man looked around. The line of drool almost landed on Otto, "Eugh." He voiced his disgust; eventually, the young man stopped swiveling his head around and yawned, "Are you the owner?" Otto asked.
The young man looked at him, squinting before letting out a sigh; he turned his head to the left and the right before sitting back in his chair.
"I-" Otto didn't get the chance to speak as the Young man touched his face, pulling his hand away when he felt his drool.
Otto's face cringed as the Young Man wiped the drool on his mouth; he could hear the barely held-back snickers from members of the Emilia camp, "Are you the owner?" Otto asked once more.
The Young man looked at him for a moment before speaking, "Yeah, I am." His words were slow and heavy, just like he slept.
"Oh, that's great, we wanted to-" Once more, Otto was cut off.
"Now, hold on" The Young man gestured for Otto to wait, "Who are you guys?" He then gestured to the whole camp.
"We're travelers," Otto stated.
The Young Man squinted his eyes at them, "Uh, nice…. What's your guy's name?" He made a small gesture with his right hand.
Otto took a deep breath before speaking, "I am Otto Suwen. My friends are Garfiel Tinsel, Emilia Tinsel, Frederica Baumann, Petra Lyte, and Ram Lyte." He lied partially; he wasn't quite sure how people would react to a person with no last name, so he went straight to lying as he gestured to each of the Emilia camp members.
The young man gave him a curious glance, "You uh, gonna let them introduce themselves first, or you speaking for the whole group, here?" He questioned.
"They don't speak English," Otto promptly stated before adding, "It's a long story."
The young man looked between Otto and his group before nodding in his head in a sigh," Enrico Del Martinez, but call me Enrico. Little weird about your friends, but you don't like bandits. I guess you guys are good with your no English." The Young man swept his bangs to the side, proceeding to tilt his head to the right and look past Otto's shoulder.
Otto awkwardly looked down at the young man, "Is something the matter?"
Enrico straightened his head and looked back to Otto before pointing at the Emilia camp members behind him, specifically Frederica. "Hey, what's up with that girl on your friend's back? Do I need to be concerned about something?" Enrico continued to point at Frederica, who still was carrying Rem on her back.
"Huh? Oh! That's Rem, Ram's other sister. She falls asleep a lot." Otto chuckled as he lied right through his teeth; he was sure this wouldn't backfire on them.
Enrico nodded his head and softly leaned into the back of his chair, "Narcolepsy. Nice. I had a girlfriend once that did that." He yawned before stretching and popping his neck.
"So, what can I do for you all today?" Enrico asked as he stood up, slouched with a lazy gaze at Otto.
"We are here to use the communal bathhouse, and we didn't know if we needed to check in with you and whether we would pay or not."
Enrico's lips curled into a smile, a wide grin with a few chuckles escaping. His demeanor turned from slobbish and sluggish to energetic and alert on a dime, "Yeah, don't worry about it, friend. No payment is needed, plus the communal bath house is yours to enjoy today. No one comes in during this time of day. Anyways women on the left, men on the right. If you're feeling a little something and need to go to the other, I won't tell a soul." The young man laughed as Otto's cheeks turned red, "Now if you wanna get your dirty ass clothing cleaned, well… that might cost something."
Otto watched as Enrico scratched behind his ear. The slob then looked at his finger before wiping it on his shirt, "We… don't have anything to pay with." Otto wondered how the young man functioned daily.
Enrico stared at him blankly, eyes squinting before he sighed. "Shit, dirt poor, huh?" shaking his head, he scratched his chin for a moment, clicking his tongue. A little smile grew across his face, "Guess I can be a little hospitable for you guys… I'll even throw in some spare clothing, figure you guys don't have a lot of spares with your dirty ass clothing."
"R-really!" Otto spoke excitedly before clearing his throat, "Sorry, thank you, sir, for your hospit-"
"Ah! Not yet, my amigo, you are gonna owe me." Enrico wagged his finger as Otto, with a giant smirk plastered across his face.
Otto gulped, "Oh…. Uh." He wasn't sure how he could end up paying Enrico back.
"The only thing I want from you and your friends is to make it big in the city and maybe sneak back out here, and we can have a drink over your tales." The young man offered his hand, "Should be easy. I have a brother in the city. Alejandro Del Martinez. You'll know him when you see him; he works at our family's bar and grill outside the city walls."
Otto smiled as he took hold of the young man's hand, shaking it, "Sure!" Though Otto cringed once, he remembered Enrico had yet to clean his hands.
After the conversation, The rest of the camp would change before heading into their gender-respective bathhouse rooms.
Each room was the same, a large pool of warm water in the middle with a stylized stone floor. Garfiel grinned and immediately got in, discarding his towel. Water splashed out onto the stone floor as Otto sighed, "Don't make a mess, Garf."
Otto didn't get in like his brother, no instead, he headed to the other side of the room before opening a chest that sat against the wall, smiling, "He said that these were some of the best homemade shampoo and conditioner around." He pulled out two small bottles, unable to read the words etched on them, "Not sure what is what, but it probably doesn't matter." Otto stood up with the bottles in hand and returned to the water.
Once back in the warm relaxing water, Otto leaned into the nearest wall, softly sighing. The pleasant sensations of the water made him melt in his spot, "This is paradise." It made him forget about their current situation, eased his body's muscles, and his ordinarily high stress collapsed in on itself.
"Yeah… Cap'n would've loved it here," Garfiel added.
Otto looked at Garfiel and hung his head low" "Yeah… He would."
"Cap'n would've fought those bandits and saved the day like he usually does."
"Yeah…" Otto cursed himself for his weakness, his cowardice. If Natsuki Subaru had been here, he'd have figured out the situation with that uncanny intuition of his, "He would," Shang wouldn't have stood a chance against his bro.
"I miss him."
"So do I."
The two sat silently in the water, both looking down, heads hung in shame. Otto hated how things were going, and he felt as if they were just going in circles, finding no solution to what they had walked right into; he didn't want to leave the people suffering at the bandits' hands. He knew the others didn't either.
"Maybe when this is all over, we can see about finding his body again and give Natsuki-san a proper burial."
"I wanna kill that bastard." The hate oozing from Garfiel's words was enough to mask the sobs.
"I know, Garf."
The dam broke as hate could no longer mask it; the waterworks began to flow out as tears streamed down Garfiel's face. "It's not fair! Why does Cap'n have to die and..." Garfiel looked at Otto, "Why did Cap'n have'ta die!"
"I don't know Garf, that Araksis… He spoke so fervently about Natsuki-san. As if it was some accomplishment to kill him. He was saying all these terms. I don't know what could possess a living being to speak about a person like that." It vaguely reminded him of the legendary bowel hunter, Elsa Grainheart. However, Araksis lacked an intense fascination with the bowels of his victims. Otto could easily imagine Araksis ranting about how they were pawns for his grand plans, and he could imagine the taunts the alien creature would spew at them if they were to meet again.
Then there were the men that followed him, either extremely fanatical or loyal enough to create a chant for the person they followed. It made Otto wonder about the culture behind the Fallen and what made them what they were. How did they function? Where did Araksis sit in the social hierarchy of his race?
What would he do if he got his hands on them?
If Subaru had been a trophy, left to mummify in a cold wasteland. What would he do to them? What sick tests would he run? He had threatened to pull them apart limb by limb; would he open them up as some sort of plaything? One thing was clear to Otto, though. That Araksis held no concept of mana and gates, nor Ods.
Lost in thought, Otto had tuned out the world. It took a loud, sharp cry from the room over to snap him free from it. He and Garfiel jolted in their spots, standing up in the bath.
"LADY EMILIA!" The faint cries of Frederica could be heard through the walls.
Otto and Garfiel raced out of their room, the merchant lagging behind Garfiel as his wet feet slipped on the smooth floor. Once inside the girl's room, they saw Emilia unconscious on the floor and Frederica performing CPR on the unconscious half-elf.
"What happened?" Otto asked, panicked as he looked at Ram, who was cradling a scared Petra.
"Emilia slipped under the water and-."
Frederica pulled away from Emilia, who spat out water and gasped loudly for air, jerking up and looking around with wide eyes, crying out, "Subaru! Where are you-"
Nothing but silence and stares met the Half-Elf, worried looks. Emilia buried her face between her legs, whimpering, muttering Subaru's name.
/.\./.\./.\
Despite the incident with Emilia, the rest of the bath had been rather refreshing, Otto had to admit his nerves were a lot calmer, and he could think easier. Honestly, he wanted to go back for a second round. After getting into their new spare clothes, Otto had to admit he looked nice, unlike his old outfit. The materials are softer. He wasn't sure that was the right word, but the clothing lacked the personality of his usual attire. It didn't scream merchant.
But it will work for now. Otto just hoped that his original clothing could still be salvaged.
After obtaining their new clothing, the Emilia Camp would return to their camp for the night, but Otto would split from the group, telling them he would be back before dark. There was still a lot of time in the day to get one or two things done before the evening, and he was sure he would get one important thing done.
Having walked to the edge of town, Otto followed a dirt path for a bit, soon coming up on a hill, and on that hill rested a log house with an overhang covering the front porch. On it, The Sheriff sat on a chair looking out.
Quietly, Otto walked the rest of the way up the hill and approached the porch. The Sheriff glanced at him gruffly, "What are you doing here?" Otto went tense, stopping as he could feel the aura the man was giving off. He was far from happy.
Not even a foot on the first stair, he was trembling in his tracks from the man's tone. It took a second for him to eke out a word, "I…."
The Sheriff sighed, "Take a seat. Let me hear it." He gestured over to a free chair that sat on the opposite end of the porch. "You look good and smell better too."
"Thank you, sir!" Otto smiled before quickly moving to the chair, after which he sat there staring at the wooden flooring. A few minutes of silence passed before he posed his question, "Why doesn't anyone stop them?" It was better to get it out now than to wait.
The Sheriff huffed as he reached with one shaky hand at the small table next to his chair, "Why? What can they do? They have had a peaceful life out here—no reason to panic. The Fallen are too rare to see around here. They're used to the comfort of a few individuals protecting the town." He lifted the pipe resting on the table and sat next to an open box full of soft brown material; he then grabbed a small handful of the material and began packing it into his pipe.
Once done packing in the brown material, Otto watched as the Sheriff brought the thin end of the pipe into his mouth before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small silver metal box. Flicking it open, he would hit something on it, causing a flame to burst.
"I don't understand; what do you mean comfortable? Do you not have guns here?" Otto's eyes followed the flame as it was brought to the hole on the large end of the wooden pipe. After a second or two, the flame was pulled away, and the silver box closed.
"Comfortable, as in they got used to all the peace," The Sheriff breathed in on the pipe before pulling it away, breathing out smoke, "We have guns, ain't used in the defense. They are hunting guns, first and last resort weapons against the Fallen. Been that way for years."
"So, who, how… Are you the only one protecting this place?" Protecting was a word he loosely used, as the events from yesterday had shown. The Sheriff was relatively inactive against the crimes committed against his people.
"It wasn't just me protecting this town, there were others, and even then, we were the second rate to the real defenders." The old man removed the pipe from his mouth and spat over his porch railing, "Nowadays, I do my best to keep the peace."
Otto fidgeted his fingers against one another, a question flowing from his lips, "What are these real defenders you keep mentioning?"
"Guardians."
Otto perked a brow at the name, "Guardians?" he honestly wasn't sure what he was expecting, but Guardians wasn't one of them.
The Sheriff puffed his pipe before blowing smoke, "They are heroes of the Last City, defenders of humanity and its remnants."
Defenders of Humanity and its remnants? Otto couldn't help but think back to a particular Sword Saint in Lugunica. Such a lofty description couldn't possibly be accurate, though. Right? Otto cleared his throat, speaking clearly, "Why aren't they here then, and are they really the defenders of…." He began to trail off, his voice falling quiet.
The Sheriff looked at Otto thoughtfully before leaning back and scratching his chin; the chair rocked and creaked on the wooden floor, "Time, worry. Dread. I remembered it etched on their faces." He answered dryly.
"What?"
"Heh, you should know. But then again, you're not from here, not this world, even if I have to bet."
"How did you know?"
The Sheriff shot Otto a smirk before shaking his head with a chuckle, "It doesn't take much to see how you stand around like a deer in headlights. Plus, I couldn't understand what your friend was saying, it ain't a language I have ever heard before, and I know some pretty strange ones." The older man leaned into the back of his chair, taking a deep huff of his pipe. "Oh, and you've just been asking the dumbest shit imaginable. Make sure to keep it to yourself. Never know what a man might do with such information."
The Merchant internally cursed at himself, and he had thought he was rather good at hiding they were from another world. He slapped his forehead and shook his head after getting back on track, "You certainly have experienced a lot, then," Otto looked off to the side, knowing that if Natsuki-san were here, he would be able to connect with this older man much better than he ever could.
"I suppose I have lived a long life, mister Otto."
Otto's eyes widened, "How do you know my name? I haven't even said it?"
"Grisby ran it by me last night and suggested you might stop by. I am sorry I never got your name yesterday; Shang's little… accident." The Sheriff dropped it right there, falling quiet.
The two would be quiet for the next few minutes, chirping birds filling the air. It was calm. The old man let out a cough before turning his head and spitting into the cauldron, "You know what happened to this world? It was destroyed and ransacked by things you wished never crossed your mind."
"Huh?"
"All that humanity ever built was reduced to rubble or ruins. The world collapsed, the great nations fell, and darkness washed over. My father told me what his father was told by his father, the sky was black, and darkness dominated the land."
"That's…"
"People were screaming, killed by something far greater than the mind could handle. The winds were like poison, the environment hostile."
"That's horrible!"
"Tales of water boiling over and consuming people, wind wrapped up in a tornado of fire burning through the lands as the governments of the golden age committed to old procedures, perhaps even settled old grudges one last time."
That would explain a lot about the world around them; Otto hated to admit it, but despite how unreal it sounded, the sheer desolation of the land they traveled through, the Fallen, all the skeletons. The Fallen… Otto wasn't sure why but a gut feeling told him that the Fallen weren't the culprits behind all the devastation, and he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.
"Then, it ended, the Traveler… Saved humanity… Then the Dark Ages, as people call'em, came along, and then it passed. But honestly, I say they aren't over, though. We're still in'em. Things have been worse, and they aren't gonna get better for a while longer…." The Sheriff stroked his beard as he rocked back and forth in his chair.
The words lured Otto into the conversation, even more, his interest rising as he wished to know more, "Is that all? What about this Last City or City I have heard about."
"Most of Humanity resides in the Last City's walls' safety, while others live in small villages like this one here. Generations passing by living in an area like this or some cases. A settlement like this one ends up founded by daring individuals looking to step out from the comfort of the City." The Sheriff looked at Otto with a straight face, "Of course, that's becoming less and less the case every day; there used to be more settlements during the dark ages, more than the eye could see. But it doesn't take much of a guess to wonder what happened to them. Most smart people headed for the City and have been doing that ever since. There's even an order of Guardians dedicated to helping those on their way to the City."
Otto remained quiet, taking in the information, contemplating the words coming from the older man.
"The stubborn ones remain out here a dying breed. Refusing to be corralled into one place."
"When you say it like that, you make it seem like the City is a bad place," Otto stated.
"It's not. It's just different, is all. Out here, you don't have the big protective walls. You've got your family, friends, and whoever comes along to rely on you. Pray each day isn't your last. It's hard living, but it's the life we choose." The Sheriff scratched his chin before coughing.
Waiting for the coughing fit to end, Otto further contemplated the Sheriff's words. When the older man stopped coughing, he asked, "I apologize if this seems rude, but bandits are extorting your town. Why don't you do anything or try to leave?"
The Sheriff gave Otto a cock-eyed look before chuckling, "Whether you like it or not, we made our living here, and we will keep living here even if it kills us. Those bandits are just one rough patch we will make with what we have. Heck, the Fallen might kill them one day and miraculously pass over us; the Sheriff paused, scratching his chin before adding, "Or they also find us and kill us,"
"That's-"
"Morbid, I know," The Sheriff interrupted Otto once more, "Maybe a Guardian passes by to visit us again. Who knows what might cause their end? Either way, it's better than well. You already saw it." The older man lowered his gaze to the ground, softly sighing. "It will end up being a lot better than us deciding to go and fight a battle we can't win."
Otto's brow furrowed as he contemplated the older man's words; his voice croaked as he asked the first question that came to mind, channeling the same energy his friend, Natsuki Subaru, would have used in this situation, "Why don't these Guardians come down here?"
"I told you already. They are too afraid. Besides, it's not like they'd let us stay after everything; I am sure we would get some words of 'encouragement' to pack up and head back for the city." He spoke that last part with a hint of disdain.
Otto looked at the older man, undeterred, and he wouldn't allow the man to dodge his question, "Why are they afraid?" He asked once more.
The Sheriff gave Otto another cock-eyed look before shaking his head, "It's a long story, but what you need to know is most of the Guardians sit in the city, and some are actively out in the system. Still isn't enough to make people out here feel safe, of course." The Sheriff closed his eyes and sighed, "I can't blame them. I always see it with the people that occasionally pass through here, heading for the city. When the writing's on the damn wall, nowhere is safe. The darkness is creeping right on in again. The Guardians fear another collapse. That's why they are afraid. Does that answer your damn question?"
It wasn't enough for Otto, not nearly enough for him to be satisfied. He needed more information."Are there other reasons you have seen for people heading to the city?"
"Damn it, boy, ain't that enough answers to your questions already?" The Sheriff sighed as he looked at the straight-faced Otto. He closed his eyes and recounted what he could from his long life, "Protection always has been for a lot. Safety of the walls, in the shadow of the Traveller. The obvious stuff, things that don't need to be said, in some cases. The worst cases. It's the last vestiges of a settlement seeking a chance to make it to the next day."
Silence fell between the two as neither talked, on the sound of the local wildlife could be heard. Eventually, the Sheriff would speak up, asking if Otto wished to hear a tale; soon, Otto found himself not listening to one but two stories. Then another, and another.
Soon Otto was just listening to the Sheriff talk about his past.
"I lived in an old forest long before I lived here. A town of pride, if you will. It was a nice place, a good place. Didn't do nothing wrong, remained peaceful." The Sheriff explained as he continued on his tale.
Minutes passed as Otto listened to the Sheriff recount his youth.
"So, there I was, five bandits and three hostages. I tell them to release the hostages, and you'll live. They tell me to get, say they'll gun me down faster than I can draw. I argue they'd be unable to even land a scratch on me. They got nice and angry, and then six shots rang out. The bodies fell." The Sheriff gestured widely out across the porch as he m
"Six shots… But you said there were five?"
"Heh, the sixth shot came from one of the poor bastards, missed by an inch. That day I walked out of there as a man. That day I started my path to becoming a gunslinger of justice." The Sheriff shook his head, chuckling, "I was quite a young man back then." he returned to his chair again.
Otto raised a brow at the foreign term, "Gunslinger?"
"It's a term, men who carry a gun and shoot well a real talent. A skill, like you, would have, say, basket weaving. But your life's on the line when you go out."
"I see. Is there-" Otto stopped as the older man raised his index finger, silencing Otto.
"I'm not done; you should know one more thing. Those five bandits had friends. So one day, I left for a very, very long time. Those friends moved on in and came along. God knows what they did to them, but when I returned, it was burned to the ground, land blackened and charred, and at the back of that town." The man paused, his eyes staring into the distance, "Laid a pit."
"I would've taken my revenge, but someone beat me to it. I never forgave that man."
Otto gave the older man a puzzled gaze, "I don't understand the message."
"What I am trying to say is when you kill in the name of 'justice,' fight back against what is plaguing you… it has a way of finding itself back to you." The Sheriff sighed as he relaxed into his chair.
Otto raised a brow at the Sheriff's words, "Are you saying it's okay to be extorted?"
"Yes, you saw what happened to that young man. Every action leads into another." The old man took a puff of his pipe, blowing smoke a moment later, "If we fight back, they'll just slaughter every one of us." The older man groaned as he slowly got out of his chair, "It's been nice talking with you, but the day is closing, and I got things I need to tend to that don't involve you."
The Sheriff popped his back and rolled his neck, looking down at Otto with a firm gaze as he strode over and placed a hand on his shoulder, "I would recommend for you and your friends to be gone by the end of the week or even today, if only so you can avoid… whatever happens."
Otto looked at the man feeling a welt forming in his throat, the eyes of the older man pierced into him. "Anything else, boy?"
Otto swallowed and shook his head, "No, sir." As soon as the man pulled away his hand, Otto stood up and walked off the porch, mind racing. He continued down the path he initially walked up, eyes focusing on the ground. Otto audibly voiced his troubled thoughts, "This place, this world. It's too dangerous even for us if Natsuki-San was here-"
"Wait just a minute!"
Otto paused in his tracks, turning around as he spotted the old man carrying something wrapped up in a cloth; a confused 'Huh?' Escaped Otto's lips.
"While in town, head into Ivana's shop to purchase what you need… It's a long journey to the Last City. Figured it might be a good idea to get something, well, whatever you can afford from Ivana, and whatever she has."
Otto looked down at the green metal container, his fingers tracing the latch centered in the middle before flipping the latch and opening the box. Inside were dozens of glowing blue cubes. "What is this?" Otto's eyes never left the glowing cubes, their mesmerizing glow keeping his attention fixated. They were like flawless gems to his eyes,
"Glimmer."
Otto looked up from the container of the blue material dubbed Glimmer and met the older man's gaze, a curious tone exiting his mouth, "Glimmer?"
The older man scratched the back of his head, letting out a low grunt, "It's a type of currency, if you will, I won't go into detail about it, but it's a programmable matter. I ain't an egghead, so if you want to know more about the stuff, you'll want to talk to Ivana; she handles this stuff all the time."
Otto closed the box, offering it back to the Sheriff. "I-I can't possibly take this from you. You need this more than my group."
The Sheriff shook his head and pushed the box into Otto's chest, "I insist you and your pals are going to need it more than me."
Otto watched the older man depart back up the dirt pathway. His eyes silently fell to the box in his hands. "Thank you." He softly whispered to himself.
Eventually, Otto made his way back into town, asked where the store was and headed for it.
Otto looked around the store, eyes taking inventory of goods or what remained of said goods upon rows of wooden shelves. Most, if not all, of it, looked picked clean. Otto noticed from the corner of his eyes what looked like Appa's sat at the upper level of one of the left rows of shelves; Otto shook his head and focused on heading for the front counter. A pleasantly full-figured blonde-haired woman stood at the other end of the counter, her lips in a smile and hands on the counter, fingers tapping the wooden material, "Hello there! How can I help?" Her tone was intoxicatingly bubbly, a friendliness that most got along with right off the bat, just like poor old Otto.
Otto relaxed his shoulders and smiled, "Well, I am looking to buy."
Author's Note:
Hey, a new chapter, new stuff. Same old same old. Had some fun trouble with this chapter. I made it too big, so I downsized and split it into multiple chapters. I realized that wouldn't work right, so I figured, alright, I will increase the limit of what was in this chapter and condense this section of the Emilia camps adventures over three chapters. After that, we will be switching perspectives again. I am also changing my writing by a small bit, which is using outlines more often when writing these chapters. I feel they help a lot better with getting the work done.
Also, let me know how you feel about this chapter. I tried to present a certain atmosphere to the town, and the characters, specifically the Sherrif, and I wanna know if I ended up doing good on it. Either way, at the end of this all, I just hope you guys can enjoy my story.
For those wanting to know when I am working and when I am posting a chapter. Here is a discord link DHZGARjwna just fill in the rest.