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Diablo: Jungle of Shadow
Chapter 1: Earth
To move quickly, one had to prepare quickly. Or, if one wanted to put another spin on the phrase, efficiency translated into efficiency, both in preparation and action. Or he who hesitates is lost. Or, insert saying here, translating into insert situation here.
Right now, Seth didn't give a damn about any such saying in any language, and he only cared slightly more that morning had come and as such, the trade convoy was in the preparation stages of the same action they'd repeated over the last month-continue the trek back from Kurast to Seram. To shake off hangovers, pack up tents, harness horses, and prepare to continue that trek-not necessarily in that order. Or in Seth's case, make his way through the convoy to find the one leading it.
What in Heaven's name is he thinking? We're leaving? Now? Does he even know?
Seth couldn't begin to comprehend the motivations of his father, bar the universal desire to get out of the Torajan Jungles and reach the less humid, more open lands to the south. Yet as universal as that desire was, surely it didn't outweigh the search for Felix?
The young man didn't know. But while he didn't like what the likely answer to that question was, he was determined to find out anyway.
No-one approached the son of Passanius as he looked for his father, and not just because his quick strides made it difficult for anyone to approach him. Brown haired, grey eyed and with a build that had attracted the eyes of a few mercenary companies over the years, he was very much his father's son. Hard, uncompromising, and willing to fight against the world if the world picked a fight with him. It was a similarity to his father that he didn't deny, though Seth liked to think he still differed to some extent. More ambition than to live his life outside towns and cities rather than in them for starters. And also enough compassion to put off departure to search for the youngest member of their family.
"Ah, Seth, just the man I wanted to see."
And enough intelligence to approach a difficult topic more subtlety.
Or maybe it isn't difficult for him at all...
"Father..." Seth declared, walking over to the balding man and using his height to his advantage. "Thought I smelt something other than sweat and blood. Or maybe someone forgot to tend to the latrine."
"Charming," Passanius grunted, all pretence of family affection swept out into the Twin Seas. He turned to the horse set to pull his caravan, the poor beast's hair slick with sweat in the rapidly warming jungle. "Now, if you've done with sweet-talk, you can bring Felix's gear to us."
"I could...or we could let Felix do it himself."
Passanius sighed, looking up to meet his elder son with a gaze that seemed to say "oh, if only I could be young again." Seth wouldn't have been surprised. While Felix took after his deceased mother, his brother of two years senior was his father's son physically as much as psychologically...or so people said.
"Seth, you know Felix as well...better...than I do. Lad's more trouble than he's worth. Must have gone off on a wander and-..."
"A wander that began when?" Seth asked, determined not to let the old man brush off the issue that had been plaguing him since he first woke up. "When did he leave? Why isn't he back yet?"
"Maybe he's waiting for the fairies to bring him home," Passanius snapped, shoving past Felix to hand a map to one of the traders under his employ. "How the hell should I know? He's a dreamer with no sense of time and no sense of direction."
"But unlike you, he does have a sense of family."
That did it, Seth reflected, as he watched his father's shoulders stiffen, along with the rest of his body. His eyes narrowed as he slowly turned to face him, his fists clenched, the map crumpled as a result...there was nothing Passanius could do, what with being in his late fifties and therefore often mistaken to be Seth's grandfather rather than sole remaining parent. His son was being approached by everyone from Kehjistan to Lut Gholein, while he was stuck in a pattern of life that he'd carried out for decades. Seth could leave him at any time, do anything to him, a status quo which suited the trader's elder son just fine. Problem was, it seemed that Passanius assumed that his younger son was of the same mould. Seth was his father's son. Felix was the son of a dead mother. In Passanius's narrow world, that was all there was to it.
"Listen to me Seth, and by Heaven, listen well..." Passanius growled. "Felix is my son. And your brother."
"Exactly. Which is why we-..."
"But I have over two-dozen men to look after as well," the old man continued. "Men with wives, children and extended families. You, who talk about responsibility, would have me risk their lives to find just one-..."
"Risk their lives?" Seth exclaimed, unable to believe what he was hearing, or that his father genuinely seemed to believe it. "This is a jungle, father, not a battlefield."
"As far as you know..." Passanius murmured. "But you know the tales of these jungles Seth. Of the plight that has gripped Sanctuary...of the powers that be..."
"If you're talking about the bullshit that idiotic people like yourself believe, then yes, I do."
"Then that's your prerogative," Passanius growled, clearly not fond of being called an idiot. "But it's mine to get this convoy moving and trust that Felix finds us before Hell finds him."
And with that, the conversation was finished.
A few seconds, one thump against the side of the caravan and a sore fist later, Seth silently admitted that his father had a point. Over the last few decades, there'd been something...wrong, with the world. Wars among cities and nations for the most petty of reasons, vicious beasts, even whispers of demons...as if Hell, or some element of it had taken a stake in the world. At least that was what the Zakarum preached, maintaining that only through faith to the Light would a man be spared this time of darkness. As far as Seth was concerned, the statistics couldn't be ignored, but nor could the fact that the priests were nothing more than Men. Men, like all men, who could take any situation and turn it to their own advantages. Men no different than the mercenaries who had approached him, knowing that this was a good time to fight for gold, whether it be monsters or other Men. People could yak on about Heaven and Hell, but all Seth cared about was the here and now. And considering humanity's penchant for killing each other without divine or demonic intervention, he saw no reason to look for a demon or angel out of the corner of his eyes.
But then again, the fact that these were dangerous times did beg consideration. Which was why he couldn't understand his father's motives in abandoning his other son. Safety in numbers was a valid strategy, but what about "leave no man behind?" They weren't barbarians of the West or deep South, they were human beings. Heck, even animals looked after their young.
But maybe he's right, the young man reflected, leaning against the caravan as a bag of swords and axes was thrown into it-goods from Lut Gholein that a trader could find in its palace. Maybe the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.
But he's your brother...and Passanius's son...came the voice of his conscience. You can do what your father can't.
The voice washed over him, filling him with...warmth (and not the usual sort). A warmth that prompted him to listen to it.
Your father is old...but you are young. The mercenaries saw potential in you.
But he's my father.
And Felix is your brother. Honour thy father, but...
Seth shut the voice out. He wasn't in the mood for platitudes to be recited. But then again, as he imagined his younger brother alone in this hellhole, maybe lost...he could shut out the words, but not their meaning.
Come on...it'll only be a few hours...
On one count, Passanius was right. Felix was more trouble than he was worth.
That still didn't stop Seth grabbing one of the swords and heading out to find him.
The being was disgruntled.
All the chaos of the East, all the plight of mortals...it was satisfying. It was glorious. It was...fulfilling. But it meant that the worms' plodding footsteps had become non-existent in recent times, the lands too dangerous for their frailties to take. Mortal deaths were all well and good, but if one wasn't around to do the deed personally, then they were wasted. He had a...'quota' to meet, and the mortals' cowardice wasn't making it easy to do so.
But as one strayed away from the many, as he sensed a fiery soul nearing him...perhaps that could change...
