This chapter is "Tactical Double Upload Part II". Please make sure you have read Part I, it was uploaded just a couple of days ago.


Chapter 54

Tyrael had firmly believed it could not get any louder or more chaotic than the Sunday markets in Westmarch, barring actual battlefields and sieges, of course.

The markets of the East surpassed even the latter two in these departments. It almost looked like there were far more people here than space was for them in the city itself. The market wasn't just one long street, as he had originally believed. It was a labyrinth of winding corridors under a multi-domed ceiling inside a city-block sized building. Tyrael's hold on Quiet's hand immediately grew tighter as they entered the bustling bazaar and promptly got swept away by the crowd. Calling it an "assault on the senses" was an understatement. The air was heavy with perfume, spices, flowers, fruits and vegetables, incense and the smell of thousands of people milling about. The light coming through the domes and windows bounced off of clothes, shawls, curtains, carpets, richly adorned everyday objects and ornaments, furniture and wonderful glassworks, making it appear as if the air itself had a thousand colors in here. The noise was constant, punctuated by the attention-grabbing shrieks of eager vendors, the laughs and cries of children, the loud and well-practiced arguments and haggling or the occasional wail of donkeys.

- So many people! – Quiet shouted, Tyrael could barely hold onto the suddenly hyperactive and bouncy little angel as they navigated across the maze.

They passed by stalls that were just too colorful to look at, heaps of spices or seeds taller than a man, small bays of cushions where one could drink tea or sip on a hookah, dozens of vendors proudly and eagerly showing off the admittedly beautiful shawls and robes, promising the "best prices in all the bazaar". Tyrael eventually could not help himself, and stopped at one tent to purchase one. His choice fell on a white-golden veil that had waving desert dunes dance across it in deep red color. Haggling and eventually paying for the cloth was a bit difficult when he also had to keep his hold on Quiet in the meantime, but he managed it somehow.

- I wanna look around! There are so many people here! It's happy! – the little angel shouted angrily, trying to break free and disappear into the crowd.

- That is why you need to stay close to me! If we split up here, we will never see each other again – Tyrael retorted, stuffing the veil in his backpack.

- Esshol!

- Quiet, what did I tell you about that word?!

Unfortunately it did not look like this time around Quiet would settle down, and Tyrael had to wonder if it had something to do with the crowd and the noise. Those seemed to have been the shared factors during the scarab and later the bat incident (although why exactly, he still couldn't quite figure out) that led to Quiet's recovery on both occasions. He was ready to lose his patience completely, but forced it back a moment too soon. Shouting will not work. He needed to keep Quiet occupied, he realized.

Alright. Explain things. Tyrael was good at that. So he took a deep breath, said a silent prayer for the success of his tactic, then began:

- Quiet, do you know how tea is made?

oooOOOooo

The bazaar was the single greatest thing on Sanctuary.

Mostly because it gave Tyrael endless topics to talk about to Quiet and keep him in check that way.

Thankfully, Inarius's legendary curiosity did not forsaken him in this moment, and the little angel rather quickly started to listen to what he was saying. He even asked questions eventually, rather tricky ones at times, but his attention was completely on Tyrael. They talked about a myriad of topics: tea brewing, trading, weaving, why Aranoch people had such different clothes and skin compared to the western people, glassworks, food, really anything. Of course, Quiet still being a child, Tyrael had to harshly dump down most of the explanations (which made him internally wince countless times), but it was a small price to pay for keeping him safely by his side.

In the meantime, during their aimless wandering, they actually came across a larger and strangely quieter bay within the bazaar, where a handful of travel-gear wearing people were making hushed deals with customers. As it turned out, this was the corner for caravan leaders and messengers to find jobs and recruit people.

- Excuse me, sir! – Tyrael immediately walked up to the man who looked the readiest for desert travel. – I am looking for a caravan headed for Lut Gholein in the nearest future.

- You're in luck, stranger! I am Gamlu of Lut Truhast, and I am the leader of the Silver String caravan traveling between Lut Gholein and Lut Bahada! We are leaving tomorrow at the first crack of dawn – the huge muscular man laughed heartily, adjusting the wooden pipe in his mouth.

He sported civilian clothing with the usual bisht, thobe and baggy pants, although none were adorned. These clothing were meant for the harsh desert road, not for a walk in the streets. He had a white kerchief covering his bald head.

- Excellent! I and my nephew would like to join your ranks for the road. We have gold and we can take our part in the tasks, if you'd have us.

Gamlu chewed on his pipe, his intelligent green eyes slightly narrowed.

- Usually we bring people from Lut Gholein these days. Have you not heard the news, stranger?

- I have. Lut Gholein has lost its luster – Tyrael nodded. – But it is necessary that we go there. Can you take us?

- But of course, stranger – Gamlu nonchalantly shrugged at this. – The reason is not my business. However, first and foremost, I need names.

- My apologies. I am Tyrael… of Westmarch. And this is—

- Quiet Lightwing! – the little angel suddenly exclaimed from next to him.

- "Lightwing"? – Tyrael mumbled barely audibly, staring incredulously at Quiet.

- Fancy western names, I see – Gamlu grinned. – Alright then, sir Tyrael! The fee is thirty gold each, and you are expected to help out with the animals and cargo, should we need you. Agreeable?

- Yes, it is.

- Well then! First crack of dawn at the main eastern gate. It's gigantic, you cannot miss it. Payment is before we set out. You will get one camel or horse to ride, and you will be responsible for that mount at the very least.

- Horses like me! – Quiet said happily. – What's a kamel?

- It is another animal. You will see it tomorrow morning – Tyrael quickly answered before turning back to Gamlu. – Thank you, Gamlu. We will be there!

- Don't be late! The Silver String does not wait.

- Understood.

In the same bay, Tyrael quickly got a hold of a young but strong messenger boy who happily accepted the package to Westmarch. He seemed eager to leave for the West.

- Do not lose a single of these letters, or the two packages! It is of most importance that they reach Sophia Riordo – Tyrael ordered sternly, handing over the wax-sealed pile.

- My record is spotless, sir! I shall deliver your message without a scratch on them – the runner bowed deeply, accepting the bag of gold as well.

- Beware of the passage through the Tamoe Mountains. An earthquake had hit that area a few days ago. And may all the gods see you safely there – Tyrael nodded as well.

We will, fear not, he thought he could hear a whisper from the ground.

Thank you, Zaim, he answered back telepathically, hoping the god heard it.

With everything taken care of, Tyrael allowed himself a moment to stop and just exhale as loudly as he could, letting his shoulders drop. Now that the letters were officially on their way back to Sophie, he felt… excited? Anxious? Hoping he wouldn't scare her senseless with his recounting, and she would like the gifts? It was difficult to tell. Leaving the bay, they rejoined the unending flow of the crowd outside. A group of mothers and fathers passed by, guiding their children by their hands as they happily shared embarrassing stories about their kids with each other. Clearly that was a group of old friends.

- There are so many friends there – Quiet suddenly spoke up, his gaze wandering on that group.

- Friends? – Tyrael echoed, following his stare.

- Yes, those called "papa". A lot of people have that kind of friend.

- You mean the fathers?

- What is a "fadder"? Kyla calls Kapten Heyly that and also "papa". That's a kind of friend, right?

- Lyndon didn't tell you?!

- No.

- Oh dear. So, a father is…

Tyrael paused. Was he supposed to explain human reproduction here?! By the Seven Hells no, that had to wait for Lyndon, Tyrael wouldn't touch that subject with a 3-meter pole!

- Yes? – Quiet tilted his head to the side.

- So… a father, or papa, has a child or more children – Tyrael awkwardly began. – He—

- A "fadder" is a he?

- "Father", not "fadder", but yes, it is always a "he". He, along with the mother or mum, who is always a "she", bring up these sons and daughters together until they become adults and can have children of their own.

- What is "bring up"?

Tyrael mentally kicked Lyndon in the shins for this. What was the scoundrel thinking?!

- Bringing up a child means that… that you keep them safe, you love them and teach them everything they will need to survive in life, from simply walking and speaking to certain professions like farming or forging or whatever else. It means you teach the child how to behave, what is good and what is wrong, how to help others how to be happy, how to achieve and fight for their goals.

Quiet fell deeply silent, pondering on this new information. Tyrael almost fell back into the monotone rhythm of walking, when the little angel jolted him out of it:

- Leendonn is my fad—father.

- What?! – Tyrael snapped his head at the angel.

- Leendonn is my father! – Quiet announced louder.

- N—no, he's not!

- Yes! You said it! He loves me! He taught me to speak, to climb, to sneak, to behave, to fight well and to not hurt humans.

- Uh…

- I have a papa! – Quiet exclaimed happily and bounced.

Tyrael, torn about what to say, had to run after the angel as he skipped among the crowd. On one hand, Lyndon could never be the proper biological parent of the little angel. On the other hand, Tyrael could not really argue with the logic presented to him. Lyndon had been Quiet's caretaker and basically foster parent up to this point, ridiculously weird as that might have sounded to him. There were some truly cosmic levels of irony in hearing the Father of the Nephalem, the one who "started the trend" in the first place, shout happily that he had a dad. At the same time, it was also somehow endearing.

So Tyrael just smiled slightly as he rushed after the little seraphim, allowing him to have his time in the sun.

Eventually he managed to catch up to Quiet and take his hand into his again. The little angel was still beaming with pride and happiness, humming to himself. His wings opened wide and quivered with excitement.

- You are really happy about this, aren't you? – Tyrael asked, smiling.

- Yes! Leendonn called me "son", but I didn't know he was my papa! I'm so happy I have a papa! He taught me how to be good, I am going to be good!

Except for that pickpocketing bit, Tyrael grumbled to himself, but couldn't find the strength to get angry with Lyndon this time around.

It was clear the scoundrel loved and cared for Quiet, and did his best to teach him right. That was something the mortal angel couldn't help but admire. Who knew the formerly lawless street brat from Kingsport had it in him?

With a loud sigh he returned his attention to the situation at hand. All they needed to do was spend the day until the evening, he mused. Shouldn't be too hard, their staying here so far had been surprisingly smooth. Tyrael allowed a small smile to himself, enjoying the peace. They wandered among the seemingly endless corridors and bays of the bazaar, the smells, sounds and lights almost overwhelming. It appeared they had arrived to a more magic-oriented section that sold just about anything from amulets and charms to ingredients for potions and enchantments. Tyrael could easily spot the fake jewelry with his vision, but even he was surprised by the amount of genuine artifacts here. Granted, Aranoch was a harsh land despite the blooming cities, employing magical support in everyday life was probably much more wide-spread here than in the west. He sometimes had to yank Quiet back from a shiny stall or two before the little angel could practice his pickpocketing skills on those as well. Politely deflecting the advances of the more aggressive vendors meant another challenge entirely, but Tyrael stayed on top of all that, and even managed to just enjoy the sights around himself.

That is, until he spotted a dark corner.

Normally, the small heavily curtained bay would not stand out in the slightest. But the curtains were dark-colored, and the crowd seemingly avoided the place at all costs, even skirting around it. In the general noise and color, that foreboding place stood out like nothing else. Tyrael couldn't help his curiosity. His hold on Quiet's hand grew slack as he carefully stepped closer to the bay, much to the disapproving glances of the crowd around him. He couldn't catch a glimpse of the inside beyond the curtains, so he risked pulling them aside and stepping inside. Immediately he reared back with a choked gasp, almost falling over.

Before him stood Malthael, Archangel of Death.

oooOOOooo

Teeriel let him go. That surprised Quiet so much that he forgot to move for a second, so he just stood in the crowd.

He saw Teeriel go inside a dark and boring-looking curtained place. Did he want Quiet to follow him? He surely would have said so, no? Maybe he wanted to do something important there. He had talked to a lot of important-looking people here already. Besides, the crowd made Quiet happy, he could finally move more freely around!

So the little angel gladly bounced down the corridor, marveling at the many many colorful people and the many many shiny things. Some of them could fit into his pocket easily! But he never saw Leendonn take anything from these tables, so maybe they weren't part of the game. So Quiet just stared at the pretty necklaces and other shiny things. He would look very shiny and nice if he could put all of them on.

- You like what you see, short stuff? – smiled a happy man from behind the tables Quiet was currently standing in front of.

- Yes, you have very nice things! – Quiet nodded, experimentally poking one of the necklaces with a funny oval-shaped disk hanging from it.

- These are magical necklaces, little one! To protect and help in your daily life. Tell your papa, he might need one.

Quiet didn't want to say that his papa, Leendonn was not here with him right now.

- Those are not magical – he stated matter of factly instead, pointing at a few of the necklaces. – They are pretty, but not magical.

The vendor made a very funny face at him, to which Quiet just politely smiled and went on his way. He quickly found something else in the crowd: a small child next to another big man (another papa, maybe?) was staring at some veils on a nearby table. What was most strange about him was that his left arm was… well, it wasn't there. That sleeve of his shirt hung emptily by his side and he only poked at the pretty textiles with his right hand. Curious, Quiet walked up to him.

- Hello! My name is Quiet – he politely introduced himself.

- Hi! I am Calain – the child waved back with his only hand. – You are not from around here, yes?

- No, I am travelling with Teeriel – Quiet shook his head.

- You like it here?

- Yes, it is a very nice city. The bath house was fun!

- I like that too! Mum sometimes takes me there.

- Why is your arm missing?

- Oh, papa says I was born with no arm – Calain looked at his left shoulder. – He is very sad every time I mention it, so I don't. It would be nice to have two arms, I could play better with my friends. But papa says gods do things for a reason.

Quiet looked at his own arms. They looked identical to him, only the hands and the elbows were mirrored to each other. Carefully examining the humans around him, he made absolutely sure the same was true for everyone. It didn't look fair that this one child had only one arm. Why did nobody help him?

- I can help you! – he then stated seriously.

- Really, you can? – Calain asked surprised.

- Yes! Give me your hand – Quiet reached out.

He could heal Teeriel's bad ear weeks ago, he could do this, surely. He took Calain's right hand and carefully studied the arm, the bones, the muscle, all those very very small… tubes? Strings?... inside…

It was the same, all he had to look out for was to mirror the hand and elbow.

Quiet reached for the left shoulder.

oooOOOooo

It was just a statue.

Tyrael legitimately needed a minute to realize this in his terror. At the opposite wall of the bay, a tall statue of Malthael stood, carved out of some kind of black stone. On closer inspection, it wasn't anything like the real archangel. It was elongated, its proportions twisted, stretched and disturbingly alien. Its armor was a chaotic mess of barely carved out plates, its robes and ribbons just as nonsensical. The only detailed parts of it were the raised sickle swords, ready to behead the next victim. But those were disturbingly accurate, down to the last etching into the guard or the downright evil gleaming of the blades. Despite its disproportional appearance, it communicated perfectly the sheer terror the archangel had radiated from himself. The sheer terror Tyrael had felt when he had come face to face with his brother for the first time.

With some difficulty, Tyrael tore his eyes away from the statue, but he found no reprieve anywhere else either. The bay only had a single long table in it, and that was on the verge of collapse under the myriad dark statues of lusterless stone and dark charred wood, all depicting Reapers in their twisted nature. Even most of the floor was covered with them. Death maidens, assassins, anarchs, executioners, corpse raisers, and other horrible monsters that did not even show up in Westmarch, but no doubt terrorized the rest of Sanctuary. They were all depicted in a misshapen, exaggerated, threatening way, and they all perfectly expressed their horrible nature and the slaughter they have wrought.

Behind the table a thin man sat on a small stool, his brown skin now ashen, his hair long and unkept. His rag-like clothes hung grey and faded from his hunched bony body as he tirelessly carved yet another Reaper statue from dark wood. His fingers were gnarly and filled with cuts, splinters and bruises but none of that seemed to matter to him. He kept murmuring to himself but it was too low to be understood.

Tyrael knew he would regret it dearly, yet he couldn't help himself.

- Excuse me? – he called out, far less certainly than he wanted to.

The man immediately snapped his head up, so hard it looked like he might break his own neck.

- You know him! – he pointed at the Malthael statue. – All those who come here know him!

- I… fought the Reapers, yes – Tyrael said softly, torn between trying to draw closer and just making a run for it.

- But you know him! – The man insisted, standing up and stumbling to the table. – You saw him! These untouched didn't, but we did! All of Sanctuary did!

Tyrael let out a shaky breath at the unfortunate victim before him. A survivor of an Aranoch town that did not have guardians like Uthomael and Carala.

- Death walks among us! – the man went on, with nothing sort of a maniacal look in his eyes. – It is here! It has always been here.

- Death was defeated – Tyrael said in a carefully controlled, even voice. – The monsters were killed and the people saved.

- Death is here! It merely changes shape! Yesterday this creature of the sky, tomorrow maybe a human! – the man angrily retorted.

He suddenly vaulted over the table, but before Tyrael could retreat, the man grabbed his arm.

- You know Death! You know her! – he exclaimed, his grey lifeless eyes shimmering with a pale blue light.

Her…

This man had been touched by the Reapers, Tyrael realized. Either all he saw was madness… or actual visions. There were a few people in Westmarch in similar conditions, one guard gained the ability to foretell the death of others.

Before the man could lash out or do something equally unpredictable, Tyrael forced a few of his memories into the disturbed and clouded mind. He showed the man cities being rebuilt, humans returning to their homes, plants blooming again.

- Death has been defeated – he told evenly to the dazed man, ignoring his disturbing rambling from before. – You are safe now. Go, find Utho and Carala in the Burosa Shelter. They will be able to help you. Leave these ghosts behind.

- Death cannot be left behind – murmured the man, still stunned.

- But these monsters can be. Go. Find help, for your own sake – Tyrael gently pulled the man out of the curtained bay and onto the bazaar street.

He needed a bit of a push, but the man began walking down the aisle in an almost undead-like manner. The customers all but fled from his path, shouting curses at him and at Tyrael for dragging him out. The mortal angel let the swearing sail over his head as he looked back at the once again curtained bay. He wanted so terribly to set it on fire and turn the entire place into meaningless ashes. But he figured the customers or whoever ran this bazaar would eventually do so, with no damage to its surroundings. And hopefully that man would be able to leave this darkness behind as well. That had to be enough.

Tyrael ran his fingers across his bald head, realizing he was sweating and shaking. This day was turning for the worse, it seems.

So naturally, when he heard shouting behind him, he jumped like a startled deer and snapped his head around.

A dozen or so meters down the street a large crowd was gathering, their cries sounding more excited than scared, thankfully.

- Come! COME! It is a miracle! – one man emerged from the group, frantically waving at everyone to join them.

Where's Quiet? the thought practically stabbed into Tyrael's mind and the mortal angel ran there, pushing complaining people out of his way.

Fighting to the front of the crowd, he saw Quiet standing rather stunned and even frightened in the middle of the circle, holding the hands of an equally baffled young boy. A large man in rich clothing was running around the circle, shouting incoherently about a "miracle". He then suddenly jumped to Quiet and held him high by his torso, for everyone to see.

- BEHOLD THE MIRACLE CHILD! – he howled, turning the struggling angel around. – HE HAS GIVEN MY SON HIS LEFT ARM BACK!

- Put me down! – Quiet shouted but couldn't escape the iron grip.

The boy's left hand was indeed hanging limply from his side, but he had managed to slightly swing it forward with some no doubt titanic focus. The crowd broke out in earsplitting cheering, chanting "miracle child" and raising their hands towards the now positively terrified Quiet. Tyrael stared dumbfounded at the scene before him.

- Praise be unto you, herald of the gods! Sulutan of the House Mehen shall forever sing your name! – the man finally put Quiet down and bowed deeply before him.

Quiet looked around frantically and upon spotting Tyrael, he immediately rushed to him. Tyrael scooped him up out of instinct, suddenly hyper-aware of all the pairs of eyes turned to them.

- Praise the golden haired miracle child! Praise him! – people shouted.

Tyrael realized they had to get out of here, but before he could make a move, a younger man stood in their way, holding the hand of his blind wife.

- Please, child of the gods! Give my wife back the vision she has lost over the years! – he pleaded desperately.

- The gift of the gods should not be squandered so! – his wife tried to protest, but her conviction sounded weak.

- Quiet, we need to go – Tyrael whispered.

- B—but she needs help! – the little angel stammered, clearly lost and uncertain.

Still he reached out towards the woman, prompting Tyrael to step forward as well. Quiet gently placed his palms above the eyes grey with thick scale and the gems on his body flashed up. The crowd fell deadly silent, holding their breaths. When the little angel pulled his hands away, the woman blinked a couple times, her deep brown irises now visible again. She squinted at her surroundings, her face lit up as the world came into focus for her.

- I CAN SEE! – she shrieked in tears and jumping into her husband's arms.

The bazaar's building shook from the cheering that broke out. Quiet wailed in terror and practically dug himself into Tyrael's cuirass, trying to hide. The mortal angel tried to cover him with his cloak as best as he could, frantically looking for an opening in the crowd to slip through.

- Make way! Make way, I say! – shrieked a woman in a voice worthy of the Burning Hells, surpassing the cacophony.

Tyrael wasn't even surprised when Carala pushed her way through the people. She stood next to Tyrael, straight and assertive like a figure of authority.

- The gods have not sent this child of innocence so you can smother him and his gift with your unruly behavior! – she thundered, silencing everyone. – He has come to our blessed city because the gods were pleased with the way we live our lives! Do not raise their ire, lest they might smite Lut Bahada with curses seven!

Anxious murmuring broke out and the crowd finally opened up, allowing Tyrael, with the shivering Quiet in his arms, to pass. Carala walked behind them, keeping the people in check with sharp glances. Still, soft whispers, glances of absolute reverence and praises followed them throughout the bazaar. Tyrael kept up an even pace, even though every instinct screamed at him to just bolt for it. For a second he thought he caught a glimpse of a familiar-looking messy blond hair but it quickly disappeared and he could not be sure.

Once they were finally outside the bazaar, Carala took over and quickened her steps, dragging him along by the arm.

- Thank you for the timely rescue – Tyrael sighed deeply.

- It is most fortunate for you that the Aranoch people are godfearing and superstitious – Carala grumbled under her nose. – Please tell me you have a way out of the city?

- The Silver String caravan at the next dawn.

- Good, good. Those people will not postpone their travel for anything.

- Will they know of these events?

- Yes, most definitely. Rumors spread in the city faster than wind. If the caravan leader hadn't been in the crowd itself, people would tell him right away anyway. They might pester you and that child throughout the road, but at least they will get you out of Lut Bahada.

- Just great – Tyrael glanced down at Quiet who was reduced to a shivering ball under his coat.

- It will be tricky enough to get you to the eastern gate tomorrow morning. The people are superstitious but their excitement will override their fear by then, you can be sure of that.

- We will need a plan.

- What kind of child is that, even?! Regrowing limbs, did I hear that right? – Carala glanced back at them.

- Apparently. I missed that as well.

The succubus only rolled her eyes at that. They rushed across the thankfully mostly silent or still unaware streets and practically burst into the Burosa Shelter.

In the far end of the hall, the poor man from the market was shivering under a bundle of blankets, with Utho standing before him, making him drink some tea. He turned around and a shadow of worry crossed his face.

- Tyrael, sir – he nodded.

- They managed to get the entire city's attention in one fell swoop! – Carala stomped there angrily. – Apparently this kid can regrow entire arms and heal blind eyes!

Utho glanced at Quiet.

- I am so terribly sorry for this commotion – Tyrael slightly bowed. – We did not intend for any of this. I am sure Quiet only wished to help.

- It's not their fault, darling – Utho turned to Carala.

- Well, whose is it then?!

- The people can get overexcited around these parts, you know that. Remember when we arrived and healed a couple of sick people? We could barely calm them down in a month.

Carala only let out a tired sigh and massaged her forehead.

- Go now and rest in your room, sir. You won't be bothered here, I swear – Utho told Tyrael.

- We will need a plan to get the eastern gate by dawn. The Silver String is waiting – Tyrael shook his head.

Utho glanced back to his delirious guest for a moment.

- You sent this poor soul here, sir, yes? There is a lot to do tonight. Please rest for a bit, then we can figure something out.

Tyrael nodded and quickly climbed the stairs to retreat into their room. There he placed Quiet on the bed who promptly burst out in tears, grabbing and hugging the blanket tightly.

- I just wanted to he—e-e-elp! – he wailed in a heartwrenching voice. – The boy was very fr—friendly, h-he told m-me he w-wanted—to have a good arm—I swear I did no wa-want to hurt anybody!

- Quiet, it is alright – Tyrael said gently, kneeling before him and taking one shaky tiny hand into his own. – You did not hurt anyone.

- But people were l-loud, they w-were shouting! I did bad!

- No, no, not at all. The people just got too excited, they have never seen something like this before. Humans can't heal their missing arms or their blind eyes. What you did was a "miracle" to them, and they were very happy and grateful for it.

Quiet sniffled, wiping his tears with his small fists.

- B-bu-t it was s—sk-skerry – he hiccupped.

- It scared me too – Tyrael smiled reassuringly. – Big crowds are loud and can be very overwhelming. Do not worry. Tomorrow we will leave with a caravan for the desert and the people will calm down.

- S-so I did no d-do bad? – Quiet asked in a frail voice, blinking up almost hopefully at Tyrael.

Anu damn him, but Tyrael's heart ached at the sight.

- No, of course not – he sat next to the small angel. – In fact, what you did was a very very good thing. You gave back the arm of a child and the sight of a woman, these are very important things to people. You have strong magic and you used it to help people. That is a very good thing. We just need to be careful how we do such good deeds, because people can get too excited and loud when they see it.

- L-Leendonn would have been happy too?

- I am sure he would be immensely proud of you right now. When we meet him, you can tell him about this and he will be very happy, you'll see – Tyrael patted him again. – Now, try and res, Quiet. We will have to wake up early tomorrow.

Quiet nodded, bundling himself up with the blanket. He lied down, curling up into a cocoon of sniffles and hiccups, but he seemed to slowly quiet down.

- Teeriel? – he asked in a small voice.

- Yes? – Tyrael was about to stand up but stopped at this.

-… Can you tell me a bedtime story, please?

Tyrael let out a loud breath, massaging his neck as he tried to come up with an idea.

- Alright – he caved in, it wasn't like he could say no to that voice.

So he sat in a more comfortable position, taking of his cloak and cuirass.

- This is a story – he began slowly, collecting his thoughts –, about… a group of eight heroes who went on an adventure to find a very powerful and very dangerous treasure and bring it to safety…

oooOOOooo

He wants to recreate his cult from the Sin War! Why else would he go back to those meaningless ruins?! Do you honestly believe he healed those people out of the goodness of his heart?!

I was wondering when you'd show up, you lunatic.

There is nothing in him but vanity and pride! You are playing right into his hands!

It would be so nice if you actually knew what the hell you were talking about, Tyrael retorted with all the disdain and disinterest he could possibly muster, before successfully clamping down on the telepathic connection.

Honestly, he did not have the time, or the energy, or the willpower to deal with their stalker right now. After telling the story of a dumped-down, non-horrifying version of the Black Soulstone Heist (he had no idea why he chose that one, to be honest), all Tyrael wanted to do was make a plan with Utho and Carala for tomorrow, then crash into his bed and preferably not move a single muscle for a handful of hours. Market-going was tiring, surprisingly. So was retelling a borderline suicide mission that almost killed him five times at least. Tyrael still had no idea how he had managed to spin it into an epic adventure where the heroes bravely and completely unscathed captured the treasure and made a break for it.

… Also, he mmight have been a tad bit too cruel to the villain representing Balzael. But then again, that traitor deserved that and far far far worse.

Yawning so wide he feared his jaw would unhinge, Tyrael slowly wandered down the creaky stairs. The man from the market slept fitfully on the ground in one of the corners in a makeshift bed, Utho and Carala were hunched over the counter, looking at some kind of paper.

- I'm here – Tyrael mumbled, trying to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes.

- Long day, sir? – Utho smiled faintly at him.

- You can say that, yes.

- We have been trying to figure out the most optimal route to the eastern gate – Carala pointed at the paper in a no-nonsense tone.

Turned out they were looking at a city map. Tyrael joined them, locating themselves quickly on it.

- Splitting up may be the best option – Uthomael offered. – I can sneak across the roof tops and crevices with Quiet, and you sir can go with Carala. With a bit of luck the people's attention had been firmly on the child and they will leave you alone.

- And if not, a couple of curious bystanders is still easier to handle – Carala.

- We should still avoid the main streets – Tyrael nodded, following a tight maze of backstreets with his fingers. – Do you believe the caravan will leave as scheduled?

- Gamlu of Lut Truhast is the single most duty-bound and punctual mortal we know – Carala actually let go of a smile.

- Rivaling that of Wisdom angels, for certain – Utho added. – He will more than likely be immensely proud that the "miracle child" travels with his company, but there is no way he will allow the crowd or anything else to hold up the caravan.

- Well, let us hope so – Tyrael exhaled loudly. – I am sorry about all this. It never even crossed my mind that it could happen, and I am certain Quiet did it with the best intentions in his heart.

- Helping others is not something that should be apologized for, with all due respect, sir – Utho shook his head.

- It is only the aftermath that can be tricky – mumbled Carala.

- Darling…

- I am just saying!

- And she is absolutely correct – Tyrael let go of a bitter smile.

- As for this poor soul – Utho turned to the sleeping man –, we will have to find a healer. Someone who is well-versed in the sicknesses of the heart.

- I am not sure how he has even survived in the first place – Carala massaged her forehead. – What did those "Reapers" even do?

- Tearing the souls out of humans, and turning their corpses into twisted monsters. Every soul they harvested were used as fuel for their foul magic, and for Malthael himself – Tyrael admitted slowly, not wanting to revisit the memories.

-… May Anu show him mercy now – Uthomael murmured a prayer, glancing up at the ceiling.

- Does he even deserve it? – Carala asked the one question neither angel wanted to think about.

Before the conversation could turn for the worst, Tyrael excused himself and retreated back into his room. This was not how he had wanted to end his two days of peace here in Lut Bahada. With a tired sigh and arms heavy as lead, he took off his new clothing and climbed under his blanket. On the other side of the room, Quiet was sleeping soundly and silently in his cocoon, the bedtime story sufficiently taking his mind off of today. Tyrael wished he could do the same, but his mind kept going back to that dark underground corner where Malthael emerged and killed his people without hesitation. It kept repeating, over and over and over, the heads rolling across the floor, the face shriveling into dust and bones, the dark sickles snuffing out every light, sinking into his flesh

Tyrael covered his eyes and let out a choked sob. All that anger, all that fear and helplessness felt towards the eldest whom he had once trusted without a single flash of doubt…

"Brother, he won't bite. Just hold him."

Tyrael's eyes flew open and he wiped his tears in surprise. A sudden memory surfaced from long ago. Itherael had just been born, smaller and frailer than the rest, but he was already a mature adult just like them. Still, Malthael's utter bewilderment had been palpable for months, and he fumbled to even hold up his youngest brother in a comfortable way. And when Itherael started following Malthael around to learn, the little green bundle tirelessly shuffling after the tall purple shadow, that had been incredibly adorable, hilarious and no doubt extremely confusing for Malthael. Imperius couldn't stop teasing the eldest for that.

And another time, when Malthael had stated rather vehemently (Tyrael had never heard the eldest speak as loudly as then – which is to say, in an actual indoor voice) that he was not a teacher and he had no time for such frivolous acts when he was busy writing a library's worth of scrolls on a single topic. Only for the four archangels to then find the eldest sitting in the middle of a group of lightlings from all aspects, carefully explaining that no, the Pools did not work by dipping your head in it.

Or when Malthael singlehandedly (and suffering all the while because his physical strength had never been all that great) dragged the injured Imperius back to base from the battlefield, cursing and chastising him all the way, but still he refused to leave the archangel's side until Auriel stabilized him efficiently.

Tyrael did not know if it was wise to ignore all the bad and just focus on the surprisingly light-hearted and quiet moments he remembered about Malthael. Maybe this tactic had a place and time, just like taking a break from duties did. It most certainly eased his mind, allowed that tight grab on his throat to loosen just a bit. So he deliberately pushed out all thoughts of sickles, darkness, statues and souls and focused on the life Malthael once had. When he was silent and distant and had his flaws, yes, but still part of the family who held the fate of his siblings and of the people to the highest regard in his own subtle way.

Tyrael let out a long sigh as he allowed the memories to flow through him, until the dreams finally took over.

oooOOOooo

Waking up early sucked, Quiet decided as he was basically pulled out of bed by Teeriel.

The little angel half-asleep struggled and slapped at the large arms but there was no returning to the warm blanket with the happy dreams. The large crowd of shouting people was but a distant memory to him and he hoped today would be quieter. Teeriel quickly packed their stuff, asked Quiet to make some order in the still dark room (which he did by asking everything stand nice and orderly), and the two of them rushed down the stairs to the big hall.

The happy fat man/angel Uthomael and the happy thin lady/demon Carala waited for them. Carala was dressed in her usual clothes, but Utho wore pants and a shirt and a lot of belts and nothing else, not even that funny hat he had on the first day.

- Good morning, Lord Teeriel, Quiet – he nodded.

- Good morning – Quiet mumbled, rubbing his eyes, even though it was definitely not a good morning.

- Ready to leave town? – Carala asked, brushing her dress off.

- Yes, we are – Teeriel nodded.

- Come here, little one. You will be with me – Utho reached out, and Teeriel gently pushed Quiet there.

- Where are we going? – Quiet asked, confused.

- You two will head for the eastern gate in a different route, so people will not see you and start shouting again – Teeriel explained.

- Oh.

- It will be a fun ride, I promise – Utho grinned.

Well, if "fun" meant climbing onto the roofs and somehow running silently there, it was sure fun. Quiet was hanging onto the back of the surprisingly fast fat man, while Utho jumped on wood beams, climbed short walls around roofs (why was that a thing?), and occasionally sneaking around people very silently when they were on the small tight streets. It was still very early, the edge of the sky barely started to turn pink, but Quiet could feel, and occasionally see many people milling about on the big streets, looking for something.

- How are you so fast and quiet? – he asked Utho.

- I am very good at it because I am a Dagger angel and I was taught well too – Utho smiled over his shoulder, jumping across a few beams to a new roof.

- Leendonn taught me how to sneak past people too. So I… so we don't have to fight them.

- That is most wise, little one. Staying silent and stealthy often leads to better results, I agree.

- You would like Leendonn. He is very good at that. He can take purses easily too! I learnt it from him – Quiet stated proudly.

- Oh dear – Utho chuckled. – I take it lord Teeriel is not happy about this?

- No. It is a game but he is no fun at all, he doesn't like games – Quiet puffed up his cheeks, looking over the big city below them. – Well, except in the bath house where we played splash war. That was fun.

It was a very nice city, only the people were a bit too loud, he noted absentmindedly. But outside of that last afternoon, he really liked it here, he decided.

- Little one, taking money from people who had worked hard to earn it, is not a game or a really good thing.

- But Leendonn is a good person! Good people don't do bad things.

- I… well, it is not my place to teach you about that. I hope lord Teeriel will be able to do it.

- He keeps saying it is not true, but that's stoopid – Quiet grumbled.

- Maybe you need to mature a bit more for this, little light – Utho sighed good-naturedly and finally dropped the subject.

Good, Quiet was getting really tired of always having to talk about it.

The road to the big big gate was very strange, but people indeed did not see them on the way. It was a huge building, a bit like a tower but thicker and had a very very big opening in the middle of it. The two-winged door was heavy and old and full of metal and wood from what Quiet could sense. It was in good condition, though, and right now it was wide open so people could pass through. The building and the doors were very colorful too, full of shapes of squares and triangles and waves, kind of like how the people dressed here. They really liked their colors, huh? Utho climbed off of a roof in a dark alley and put Quiet down, casually walking out into the big open space before the gate as if everything was normal.

Carala and Teeriel were already there when Quiet and Utho arrived. There were a few people milling about, carrying large packs and boxes, not dressed in very colorful or shiny clothes. When they saw Quiet, some of them opened their eyes wide and they did their work even faster than before, or stopped altogether. Quiet hid behind Teeriel's leg, hoping the people will not start shouting again.

- How was the trip, love? – Carala smiled at Utho.

- Nobody saw us, so I think I did rather well. People have been on the roads, however, we have guessed that right.

- Yes, some tried to pry Quiet's location from me. Carala kept those at arm's length very effectively – Teeriel shook his head, grumbling, but gently patting Quiet on the head. – But most did not recognize me, thankfully.

- Joel! Careful with those boxes! – came a powerful voice from farther away.

Peeking out from behind Teeriel's leg, Quiet saw the big man called Gamlu coming towards them. Oh he would be very loud if he started to shout. Quiet thought it better to hug Teeriel's leg and hide behind it again, just in case.

- I did not believe the rumors. But by the gods, it is true! – Gamlu walked up to them. – We are to bring the Miracle Child to Lut Golein!

- Yes, and you shall not make a big deal out of this, Gamlu! – Carala said very sternly, pointing at the big man and putting her other hand on her hip.

- But of course, lady Carala, do not insult me! I would never be so foolish as to intrude upon such divine heralds' work! – Gamlu sounded almost offended.

He was loud, but this was how he had talked back in that very big marketplace, so Quiet dared to peek out at him again.

- Here, sixty gold as agreed upon – Teeriel handed over a big brown bag of money.

- Again, you offend me! – Gamlu actually raised his voice somehow. – I cannot demand earthly values from you!

- Gamlu, what was that about not making a big deal out of this? – Utho raised an eyebrow.

- I would never disturb or intrude on these holy heralds, but I cannot possibly—!

- Gamlu, please at least take my half then – Teeriel let out a very tired sigh. – We will be travelling with you, living on your resources and your guidance. I will not accept all that for free.

Gamlu grimaced but took the bag and poured a bunch of coins out of it into his own.

- May the gods forgive me for this – he mumbled under his nose.

- I insisted on it, they will leave you alone, do not worry – Teeriel smiled slightly.

-… Will you not shout? – Quiet chanced this question.

- Miracle Child, you have my solen oath that I shall keep your peace intact from my men and all who travel with us! – Gamlu said, bowing very deeply very quickly.

- Solen?

- "Solemn". It means very serious. He means his promise – Teeriel told him.

- Oh… thank you! – Quiet nodded to Gamlu who seemed very happy all of a sudden.

The big man turned around and rushed back to the other people who were still watching and not packing at all. He started shouting at them to hurry up and get to work.

- So… this is it then – Uthomael said.

- Yes. Thank you for your hospitality and for all your help – Teeriel nodded.

- But of course. We wish you a safe road ahead, wherever you may go – Carala grabbed Utho's hand, smiling.

- And thank you for… understanding us, sir – Utho added.

- I hope your peaceful life will be long and happy – Teeriel smiled.

Quiet did not like this whole thing. It reminded him when they said goodbye to Adenah, Izba and Ashava, and that memory still made him very very sad. He hated goodbyes, he realized. But he wordlessly walked up to the couple and hugged Carala's legs then Utho's legs.

- Thank you – he mumbled into the clothes, before drawing back.

- Little one, stay safe and happy! – Utho crouched down, taking his hands into his own. – I wish you nothing but the best of luck.

- May your power grow and solidify – Carala mimicked her husband.

- T-thank you – Quiet repeated, sniffling and quickly rubbing his eyes when they let him go.

Utho and Carala began walking, holding hands and still waving at them even as they slowly turned around a distant corner. Quiet continued waving back as well, constantly rubbing his eyes.

- Why are goodbyes always so bad? – he sniffled, looking up to Teeriel who seemed a bit sad as well.

- Because we value companions and friends, and when we have to leave them behind, that is always a sad moment.

- I do no want to leave anyone behind!

- It is a natural part of everyday life, Quiet. When we travel, it happens all the time. I had to leave Soffia behind as well, and that pains me, but I hope… I know we will see each other again. Not every goodbye is forever, remember when I told you that?

- Y-yes.

- You have said goodbye to Leendonn as well, yes? But you will meet him again. And with a bit of luck and travelling in the future, you will meet Utho and Carala and everyone else as well.

Quiet nodded, unable to say anything right now. He still hated goodbyes very much.

- Come on, Quiet – Teeriel smiled down at the little angel. – I will show you what a kamel is.


Mission accomplished! Now let us hope I can finish the October chapter by the very start of that month. Wish me luck, cupcakes!

I apologize for every grammatical and other mistakes in these two chapters. Due to the tight schedule I had little opportunities to properly weed them out. Feel free to point them out to me!

Lore & Trivia Corner

- Lut Bahada Great Bazaar: I based the bazaar scene on my experiences in the Istanbul Great Bazaar, one of my top favorite places on earth. I tend not to like loud places full of people but that market was just soooo… atmospheric and magical and unique. I also drank there the best goddamn fruit tea I had ever had. Good times.

- The Reaper-touched city guard a character in Act V you can find in the Survivors' Enclave. His arc throughout the Act involves him barely escaping from a Reaper, realizing he can see when people are about to die, and by the end he realizes he might be able to use his curse for good. Although his will to live is more than likely completely gone by that point.

- Healing a child's arm was inspired by the first Sin War book where Uldyssian heals the malformed withered arm of a child in the first bigger town they stop. I figured it would have been a nice nod to the start of Inarius's future arch nemesis.