NOTE: This is part of a double upload! If you haven't read Chapter 8, please go back and read that first!
The gun butt felt so smooth and warm, cradled in Maxwell's palm.
...Hmph. Was that really it?
With a clenched fist, the flames in his palm turned to ashes, from black to grey, floating to the pale wooden floor of the cart and smearing. The ash pile weathered away from the bumping of the road and from the breeze that crept in from the canvas coverings of the cart, and vanished into the wind from an opening in the back.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
He sighed, staring out into the black ashen wasteland they had been embarking on for some days now. Was this really it? Was this the glory of a life of godhood?
He was no god. He was a rabid dog. Absolutely raving mad, roving from dying land to dying land in search of scraps to survive off of. Though, as a god, nobody else lorded over him but himself. In many ways, he was free.
And yet, in freedom, he felt like a dog. A dog with a chain around its neck.
He was reaching that point of his cycle again, he knew; such rebellious thoughts were to be expected. He was only just starting to reach the other Troupe members in height, only a scant few inches above his loyal accordionist.
He reached down, swirling the ash on the floor with his finger as he felt the rumbling of the road beneath him. ...What did she mean…?
She knew that his main concern was keeping himself fed. Not to say that nothing else was his concern; of course he had other concerns, both within and outside of his followers. He had a Heart too. But he wasn't about to ramble all the way out to some distant kingdom on a whim.
…! Unless she meant…?
No. No, no, this kingdom was still thriving. This memory was an interesting little scrap he had picked up on the road, but they wouldn't be able to initiate a full Harvest. And his body was still young; in its prime, even. It wasn't like he would need to Harvest for quite some time.
...But what if he never needed it again?
An absolute immortality… Was that her offer? But the price of such a thing…
Every kingdom he had Harvested before had been dying or dead, teeming with the whispers of horrors from tragedies long past. But to convert a thriving kingdom into essence, while it might be enough for such a thing to be possible…
It would be an atrocity of unspeakable scale.
And yet, she wanted to bring him closer. Why? Did she expect him to do such a revolting act? Did she have a plan of her own? Or was he completely misreading the situation, and she wanted something else entirely?
If that was the path she wished to walk, then he had no intention of following her. He would not participate in such a crime. And yet, some part of him felt drawn to that place. He wanted to know what she was planning, and what he could do about it.
"M-Master? We're approaching. What are your orders?"
He turned to see the accordionist peeking out from behind a tarp and into his private chamber of the caravan. He had only recently reached the age where he could truly call himself the Master of this caravan; although it was always his official title since he was just a squirming little thing, he was always too young to make rational decisions until now, and his closest advisors had to take the reins for him for those years.
He looked back out into the cold wasteland. He could decide his course of action later. For now, he wanted to gather information. And who knew? Perhaps this could serve as a vacation for him; some time to let his youth cut loose, regardless of the outcome.
"...Set course for Hallownest immediately and prepare to set up camp," he drawled. His voice always became so gravely and harsh in his later years, but for now he could admire how smooth it was. Suave, was the word Divine had used. He thought it suited his biased self quite well.
He steeled himself. He would come to understand her intentions, and he would see what these Hallownestians were made of.
The rabid dog of the gods would decide whether they deserved salvation, or damnation.
Brumm nodded. "Yes, Troupe Master Grimm."
Chapter name and summary are a reference to VROOOM! by King Crimson.
HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR MONTHS TO GET TO THIS CHAPTER
Any chapter that's titled after a King Crimson song you can expect to be Grimm-centric. Jojo fans go home, they're just too perfect for the Troupe.
And now, FINALLY, i will be taking a short break. I'm done with Midnight Rider for a little while, and I'm gonna go back to Chance's story in Ethno. Deepnest is not gonna be fun to write.
And as I mentioned last chapter, this is the end of Midnight Rider's prologue. We're finally getting into the meaty parts of this story, but it's also gonna be episodic and not necessarily in chronological order, so expect the story to jump around everywhere from now on.
Please leave a comment I beg you