…
A warm breeze passing by brought with itself a gentle smell of cinnamon and freshly baked pastry. Sweet words sang all around the boy as he sat back in his garden chair, enjoying the pleasantries that came with the Lateran summer. It was a peaceful afternoon, spent in the patio of some fancy cafe where all the busiest personalities of Laterano would gather for a quick break in their packed schedules.
"Whew… And you just outran that search party?"
Andy nodded proudly and turned to his red headed friend, smugness plastered all over his face.
"Mhm! Outran the mercs, made it through the forest… Though, I had to drag the guy for like, a mile or two."
"And you managed that? With those lanky arms of yours?"
He gave a shrug, flexing his non-existent muscles.
"Lanky as they are, sure did pull their weight! Besides, there's this thing called "adrenaline", Lem, you should read up on it."
"Hey, I'm well read on everything related to adrenaline! I'm just wondering how you managed to pull that fatass, even with adrenaline in play."
"Easy. You don't think, you just pull."
"Uh-huh. Seems like you're very well versed in the art of pulling men, ain't ya?~"
Amidst a few cackles and chuckles, Andy managed to playfully flick her halo with his finger, causing the redhead to let out a squeak of surprise. She retaliated almost immediately, poking her fingers all over his face, while almost falling from her chair. Mostima broke her own silence with a long, drawn out sigh, focusing back on munching on her tiramisu.
"Y'know, sometimes I just listen to you two talk without interfering and I realize some people will never pass the mental threshold of a ten year old."
The two immediately stopped trying to poke one another's eyes out and turned to glare at the instigator.
"Oh, says you!"
"Yeah, says you!"
"Uh-huh. Says me."
Down her throat went a piece of the alcohol soaked dessert.
"You just lack perspective, you sad hag. That, and any joy in life. I mean, seriously, if I were as miserable as you I'd kill myself."
She let out a snort at Andy's words, seemingly unbothered by the teasing.
"So you're saying you're not?"
His brows furrowed. What did she mean by that?
"Am I?"
"Think, Drew…"
Another bite of tiramisu disappeared into her mouth.
"... Am I the one who's had all their war buddies die? Or the one who had to drag their friend's lifeless body through some forest at night?"
"Well, no, duh."
"Yeah, see? Which means you're more miserable, simple as that."
She gave an apologetic shrug, as if to say "I don't make the rules."
"I still don't get how it relates to me being miserable. I mean, just look at me! It doesn't affect me at all!"
A sigh and a shake of her head followed.
"Oh, Drew. Come on, I know how your mind works. I know everything about how your mind works, okay? I can tell which parts of your brain are already rotten to the core, which are still fighting off the plague of powerlessness and guilt."
Her words were so bleak, so cold on this hot day. Andy turned away, unwilling to listen any further.
"Yeah, you don't know much."
"Oh, but I do. Pinky promise."
"Shut up…"
"Come on, don't be a sore loser. It's okay to make mistakes, hm? You just have to own up to them and… Well, first you gotta survive long enough to own up to them."
Andy took a frantic look around the cafe, noticing just how many people had already left.
"Where's Lem?"
"Don't change the subject, Drew."
"No, but she was right here, where's…"
"She left."
"Left?"
"Mhm."
"Where?"
"Somewhere? I don't know, you tell me."
"But why'd she leave?"
"Cause she wasn't needed anymore, silly!"
A smile played at her lips, turning her expression so bright and lively once more. Straight from a picture.
"Aaah… Yeah, okay, makes sense."
"It doesn't, Drew. It really doesn't. But if you say it does, who am I to argue. It's getting cold, feel that?"
A sharp gust of wind breezed by the two, chilling Andy to his core.
They cafe was fully silent now, as Andy noticed that all the faceless patrons had turned towards the two, watching their every move with empty eye sockets. He felt the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up.
"Why are they like that?"
"Like what?"
"Empty."
"Oh, cause they aren't important either."
"Then who is?"
He felt a light touch on his hand. Gently caressing his skin, cold, rough fingertips rubbing against his. Her sleeve was all sorts of messed up. As if the fabric wasn't even solid, but a mix between liquid and gas, flowing lazily through the air and being tugged at by the wind. Those empty, white eyes were now drilling straight into his soul. The increasingly stronger gusts of wind would snatch her bangs and send them straight into those soulless pits, smacking against the glossy surface over and over. She didn't even seem to notice.
"You are, Drew."
"..."
The whites of her eyes kept growing wider and wider, gleaming so bright with the gentle, cold wind. They were all he could see. His entire world. Lost in her eyes, unable to speak or think, to breathe or move a single muscle. Could they even be called eyes anymore? Just a white mass, assaulting his senses, blinding him with it's light. His eyelids involuntarily drooped over his eyes, shielding him from the sight.
A gentle chirping of fowlbeasts and a soft whisper of the morning breeze filled his ears as he finally came to his senses. High, high above, a mess of leafless branches clumped together, creating a somewhat sophisticated sunroof. The sun itself, now clearly visible, shone brightly, causing little worm-like creatures to dance around the corners of his sight. Andy took a deep breath, feeling his heart still beating rapidly. Was it due to the events of yesterday's evening? Or that dream and her soulless, empty face?
He rolled over to his side, immediately being met with a small puddle of frozen vomit. To the other, a large carcass sprawled out across the snow, its face obstructed by its body, invisible to Andy due to the angle.
"Droz…?"
Nothing. No movement, either.
Seeing Droz's corpse up close was the last thing he wanted to experience right now, so he rolled back to the other side. He tried standing up, only to fall right back onto the snow, being pulled by the weight of the rifle on his back. With no more adrenaline to help him carry that heavy thing, it was a real pain to mule around.
Droz, Droz, Droz…
Having gathered some more courage, Andy stood above his body, unable to fully grasp the idea of him actually being dead. This gigantic mass of fat and muscle, always so eager to throw a snarky remark or an insult. He wasn't perfect in any way, no, but did it really matter? Not a single person is perfect, after all. Not even Ricketts was. And Droz was his friend, that's what really mattered. Though, had been, rather, seeing how he was now lying dead in the snow, surrounded by a pool of dried up blood.
Andy wiped a small tear that managed to escape his eyes. There's still work to do if he doesn't want to end up like him. First things first, however, the big man deserved a funeral. Not a grand one in any way, like the ones they'd usually hold in Laterano, filled with cheerful music, celebrations and alcohol, no. Just a small one, a private parting of the two boys.
He started digging. The snow was painfully cold on his bare hands, turning them red and numb. Layer after layer, the pain only grew, to a point when his fingers wouldn't even cooperate. The deeper into the snow he dug, the harder it became, turning to sharp, frozen spikes at a certain point.
Droz kept silently watching him work from afar, like some ghoulish foreman, completely motionless and static. Andy's eyes filled with tears, not from sadness or anger or any deeper feelings, but from the overwhelming pain. It was too much. Way too much. He left the half dug hole and crawled over to the giant's corpse, to mutter a few last words of defeat.
"... I can't do this. I'm sorry, Droz. You told me to leave you, right? You won't be mad if I leave you here without a proper burial, will you?"
His questions were met with nothing but the ambient chirping and howling of the wind.
"..."
"... I'll take that as a yes. I… Need to find Suna. That town. Remember?"
Again, silence.
"Maybe Isaiah's there? Maybe the rest are already wondering where we are? I know you'd hate to keep them waiting…"
With a heavy sigh, Andy collected his friend's hands off the cold snow and joined them together on his massive chest, crossing his arms in a pathetic attempt of making him look like one of those ancient Sargonian emperors, covered thoroughly in balm and thrown into a grand tomb to nap for eternity. Took the dog tag off his neck and laid some snow on top to add a layer of protection - that's about it. No grand fanfares, just the fowlbeasts' tune and a low backing track from the wind. Sorry, Droz.
It was time to move. Andy knew he wouldn't make it here for long, not without any food or water. He knew his friend would absolutely kick his ass in the afterlife, had he succumbed to the cold and gave up now. No point in dawdling, no point in stalling.
Having gathered himself enough to stand from the giant's side, Andy adjusted his rifle's sling and assumed a direction to follow. Judging by the sun's early position, he quickly determined where the southwest should be, at least roughly. With the warm rays grazing his back and enveloping fully in a soothing embrace, the boy finally set out towards this town of "Suna." He's never heard of it. Not even overheard it being mentioned anywhere before. What's a town in Kazdel like, after all? Given his first impression of the sarkaz themselves, he wasn't expecting a warm welcome at all. Maybe it was some sort of outpost, like their own? Maybe it was actually just a smaller version of Laterano, all made of marble and covered in snow, an oasis of peace in this wretched land…
Through the forest he went, thinking of just how beautiful a sight like that would be. Protruding high above these pale birches, towers way beyond mortal reach, a city of pure light, bathed in the North Kazdelian cold. Tenement blocks bustling with life and lively conversations, a gunshot to be heard here and there as one walks down the busy streets towards a place so familiar, so warm and nostalgic. A place filled with cigarette smoke and poverty, yet so homely and cozy. No, that's just Laterano. He's thinking of Laterano. And a Laterano that will never return, mind you.
Andy tripped over a thick root hidden under the snow and almost fell to his knees. That's what you get for walking around a forest with your head soaring above the clouds. He kicked the obstacle out of pure spite and kept moving. How long has it been already? The forest seemed to just endlessly stretch onward, without a single indicator of it ever coming to an end. The trees were now all blending together into one indistinguishable mass as he kept dragging his feet through the snow.
The sun had already risen way above the horizon, mockingly sending glimmers and glints of light to bounce off of the snow and right into his eyes. Thirst and hunger were setting in as well, causing his stomach to grumble and throat to go completely dry. With all this snow around, it brought back memories of fancy Lateran desserts, paid for by someone else's money. Oh, how he wished he could've just scooped up some of that snow and thrown a thick layer of caramel syrup on top… Maybe even topped it off with a cherry? Or some blueberries? Or, even, if he'd be feeling fancy, maybe a few strawberries, or…
An idea struck him. Realistically, what was there that would stop him from just… Filling his stomach with snow? Nothing. It's just rain water mixed with some air magic, right? Surely, nothing too harmful.
Another hour or so passed before he had thoroughly clenched his thirst and hunger with nothing but the most high quality snow he could find. Good enough.
Satisfied with himself, he carried onward, as the sun had already begun heading for the horizon. This little break worked wonders for his legs, too, as they were given some much needed rest. Walking through all this uneven terrain took a toll on his measly muscles, that's for sure. Oh, and not to mention the four kilogram rifle on his back…
Far, far in the distance, a gentle light shimmered among the birches. Not a natural light. Neither a reflection of his wings or halo, no. A lamplight. A bright one, too. Andy felt his heart beating quicker and quicker as he ran towards the glow, relieved to finally be leaving this damned forest. This treacherous, awful forest.
He stopped by a tree, squinting to focus on the light's source. The sun's radiance wasn't nearly as bright now, making it difficult to make out the details. Yet there it was. Surely, it had to be it. In no way as grand as he had imagined, before him laid a small ragtag town of a few messily put together huts and sheds. With a string of oil lanterns lining the main street, alongside which all the buildings were standing. It had nothing to do with Laterano, that's for sure. The town of Suna, the pinnacle of Kazdelian architecture.
Unsure of whether he'd be welcome in such a place, Andy took his first few wobbly steps towards the settlement. Clutching the rifle in his hands, hoping to find any familiar faces, he reached the main street.
Absolute silence, but for the wind's soft wailing. A few rugged shadows would peer from behind the hut's windows as he passed by, trying to make out the silhouettes. Weird. He had imagined this place to be a bit more lively, but that was clearly not the case. The only source of some sort of signs of life was a rather sizable hut by the main road's end. Adorned by the welcoming words "DEVIL'S HEEL" by the entrance, it appeared to be full of people making a whole lot of noise inside. After a moment of hesitance, Andy pushed the door aside and stepped in.
And what a ruckus it was. Filled to the brim with patrons, the stuffy insides were nothing more but a very crudely organized bar. Wooden tables with just one leg, a line of devils sitting by the bartender, some long haired fella playing away at an ancient looking piano…
It was quite the sight.
Andy had barely managed to close the door behind himself when the entire bar went silent. As if someone had just flipped a switch, even the drunkest of devils stopped their inebriated mumblings and turned to look at the newcomer. He felt a certain warmth growing in his cheeks as he awkwardly stumbled towards the bar, glared at by the patrons, some mumbling to their drinking buddies, some already flashing their blades and sharp teeth. Andy squeezed himself between two rough looking mercenaries by the pouring station and cleared his throat, before addressing the old bartender.
"Uh… Hello, I'm looking for, uh… I was wondering if any sankta in uniform had shown up at this, uh… This establishment?"
The bartender gave a quick glance, busy with cleaning an incredibly dusty glass mug with an even more dusty rag.
"Sankta? The only sankta I've seen these past ten years was… Well, is you, sonny."
Andy gave a small nod in an attempt to seem polite, despite the growing anxiety within.
"A-Ah. I understand, thank you."
"Mhm. You was from that Lateran outpost up north, ah? The fellas that was gon' run up on y'all stopped by 'fore the whole fiasco. Bad business, I tell ya. Bad business, sonny."
He felt a somewhat uneasy feeling stirring deep within himself.
"They did…?"
"Sure they did. Ain't no other bar that serves shine in a good fifty miles or so 'round these parts. Where else would 'em fellas stop?"
"And were they saying anything? About the, uh… The attack?"
"Sayin', sure. Not for me to remember what, though. If I were to write down any and every thing these drunkards that pass by spew, I'd be sittin' on a book's worth of material, son. 'Sides, I'm too old to care 'bout these warmongerin' ruffians."
The old man went back to dusting up the mug, seemingly done with the boy. Andy wanted to ask a few more questions but felt a sudden weight being put on his shoulder, locking him in place and sending a cold shiver down his spine.
"You're a long way from home, ain't you?"
A low, gurgling voice erupted from behind, breaking the bar's silence. The boy felt a drop of sweat running down his forehead.
"I'm… Sorry?"
"You best be, traitor. You know what we do to lost little lambs like you 'round here?"
"N-No?"
A vile, booming cackle.
"Then you're 'bout to find out."
As Andy turned to the source of all this noise, another hand quickly pressed against his other shoulder. There were two sarkaz men standing right in front of him, holding both his shoulders. One of them, raggedy, with scars covering his middle aged face, and horns adorned by a string of notches, probably a kill count of sorts. The other, however, young and bright, with his long, spiky ears wagging gently as a bright grin stretched on his face.
"Aye, no finding out needed! This here's my work accomplice, actually!"
The older man scowled.
"Work accomplice? This traitor?"
"Yes, sir! Best damn shot in all of North Kazdel, I tell ya! Don't let his age fool you, though, he's got…"
The young man took a deep breath, drawing in the ears of everyone around.
"HUNDREDS of recorded kills!"
A soft murmuring of surprise and admiration shook the bar, painting satisfied grins on the devils' faces. The rough mercenary wasn't buying any of it, though.
"Hundreds? How come I never heard of this freak, then? What's his name?"
The younger man's grin faltered almost immediately.
"Name? Uh… Name…? Well, he uses a codename, of course! The… Uh, The Exorcist!"
Another wave of slightly louder murmurs erupted from all around the place, some of them worried, some of them excited.
"Exorcist? Cause, what, he kills devils?"
"Exactly, friend!"
"Yeah, I want his real name. He's a traitor, he has one."
The young man didn't seem bothered in the slightest, flicking his hand dismissively.
"Friend, do you think a mercenary of his caliber would go around giving out his name? Not in the slightest! But, just for you, I suppose…"
He turned to Andy with a warm smile and gave his shoulder a light squeeze. The boy was so confused about this entire situation that he didn't even protest.
"What's your real name, huh?"
"A-Andy."
"Andy! See? Andy, "The Exorcist…"
To the boy's surprise, the young man reached for one of the dog tags on his neck and pulled it right from beneath his gray uniform. His eyes squinted as he quickly scanned the little metal plaque.
"Andy "The Exorcist" Ricketts! That's right, that's the man himself!"
"Ricketts? N-No, that's not…"
"Your lucky day, then, "Ricketts." Don't get used to it, though."
The hardened mercenary spat by his shoes and walked off, his footsteps heavy against the bar's hardwood floor.
Andy was left standing by the young man's side, his head spinning from the absurdity of what had just occurred. Did this guy just save him from a beating? A lynching? A killing?
"T-Thank you, sir."
"Oh, no biggie, Andy. Say, how about you sit down by the three of us and discuss some, uh… Business opportunities?"
"Business?... But I'm supposed to meet up here with a p-... Someone."
"Oh! Oh, well, I'm sure that someone can wait. Come, come, I'll pour you something nice, you'll meet the others…"
And with that same grin plastered over his face, the man led Andy away, towards a small table in the bar's corner, where two other sarkaz men had been sitting. The place had regained its cheerful mood from before, with happy music being played and lively conversations booming all around.
"So! You can call me Gin, Andy."
"Gin?"
"Uh-huh! Like that Victorian drink. My favorite type of poison, you know. This here's Shine…"
He pointed to one of the two, a muscly giant leaning down on the table and snoring softly, clearly having passed out from having one too many drinks.
"... And this is Bourbon."
The other man gave a small nod, continuing to smoke his cigarette. Andy returned the gesture and took a seat.
"So…?"
"So! Andy, I'm not gonna ask you for your background or anything, since I'm a man with an open mind! I believe anyone's as good as they can be, no matter their past! Or race. They call that egalitarianism, I think. Anyhow, I don't mind that you're an angel."
He gave a beaming smile, maybe a spoonful too sugary and sweet.
"Even more so, I find that fascinating! More than fascinating, I find it useful."
"Useful?"
"Mhm! See, myself and my two friends, here, we run a little… Logistics operation. Deliveries around Kazdel 'n such. Say, wouldn't you like to join us for a run to a nearby town? We've got some, uh… Some less than legal contraband to smuggle, the kinda stuff that wouldn't fly on a merc line."
"Merc line…?"
"Merc line, it's like a… Nevermind! You'll find out yourself, if you decide to join in. We could really use a natural born shooter like a sankta, you know? Even just for the wow factor, I mean, a group of armed men is already scary enough, add a sankta with a gun to the equation, you get any potential thieves and raiders shitting their pants from fear!"
He clapped his hands together, waking the giant from his drunken slumber.
"Wha-...? Wh–... Eh…"
With a few more groans, he went right back to sleep. Gin shot him a condescending look.
"... Yes, seeing how unreliable some paid muscle can be… We could really use you for this job."
Bourbon gave a nod and blew some smoke right into Andy's face. He recoiled immediately and tried dispersing it with his hands, as the smoke brought some less than pleasant memories.
"It's safer, too. Obviously, traveling by yourself is a fool's move and I don't doubt that you'll be wanting to leave this shithole as soon as you can, right?"
Bourbon's tone of voice was sharp and precise, digging straight into Andy's mind.
"Right, but… I'm supposed to wait here for someone."
The two tilted their heads, Gin in curiosity, Bourbon with his eyebrows raised high in a mocking manner.
"Who? Don't tell me you've got more of you angels dropping by this hovel?"
"No, I'm actually from that outpost on the other side of the forest and…"
"And that's okay! We love a military man, don't we, Bourbon?"
The smoker gave a shrug and took another puff. Gin continued, his tone full of warm reassurance.
"It's alright, Andy! This little job pays really well, you know? You'd have enough cash to run off from your comrade at arms, wherever you'd like!"
Andy felt something strange stirring deep within him. A hint of excitement, maybe?
"... How much?"
"Oh, "How much", "How much"..."
Gin gave a high pitched chuckle, before taking a sip from a bottle standing in front of the passed out drunk, Shine. He shuddered after having tasted whatever was inside.
"Ah... It's much. That's all I can tell ya. Enough for you to buy a ticket out of here. That's what you want, right? You're a soldier and you wanna go home, did I get that right?"
He winked at the boy. Andy felt his cheeks growing warm. The way he described him made him sound like some sort of deserter.
"That's… Well, I was almost done with my tour anyway, but then we had a run in with a bunch of…"
"Oh, I know, I know, stuff happens, right? I'm sure they'd understand."
He offered the bottle to Andy.
"Drink?"
An overwhelming feeling of excitement washed over him. Alcohol? He's never had alcohol before…
"Uh, sure."
Just a normal glass bottle, nothing too fancy about it. Nothing scary, either. He took a gulp and immediately felt a fiery sensation running down his throat, burning everything it touched. The substance rested at the bottom of his stomach, warming him up from within. Such a strange sensation.
"First time, huh?"
"Y-Yeah. It's a bit strong."
"Uh-huh! That, it is. That, it is…"
Gin raised another bottle off the table and clinked it against Andy's.
"So, Andy! Do we have a deal?"
The boy took a glance at the man, then back down at the bottle. They seemed… Strange. Very strange. It was all moving so fast, so quickly towards a direction he had no control over. He was given orders to wait here, to wait for Ricketts and Muller, but… It's not like Ricketts would be going anywhere anytime soon. But if what Gin said was really true then he could be making his dreams of a grand return to Laterano a reality sooner than he had imagined…
He raised the bottle and clinked it against the devil's.
"Deal."
The young man's face immediately lit up with a wide smile. They both took another swig.
"Deal! Welcome aboard, then! We're leaving tomorrow morning, but now… Say, are you hungry? You probably are, I'll order you a nice meatbeast chop, how's that sound?"
Andy nodded rapidly at the offer, still having trouble with getting that liquor down his throat. His stomach grumbled at the mere mention of real food.
"I'd… I'd l-love that, thanks…"
And with a little hop in his step, Gin wandered off to order the boy his chow.
It was just him and Bourbon left. Besides the passed out Shine, of course.
The smoker took another puff and blew the smoke away from the boy this time.
"... You're not with the Lateran military, are you?"
"I, uh… I actually am. Why?"
The man let out a low whistle.
"Rebelling against authority, are we? I thought you Lawies were all against that."
"Lawies?"
"Mmm. But maybe you're here to prove me wrong. Maybe there's still some sarkaz left in you, somewhere."
With those enigmatic words, he took one last puff and squashed the cigarette butt against an ashtray.
"Does this have to do anything with, uh… With that guy calling me a traitor, earlier?"
"Does what have to do anything with that?"
"You, saying I'm rebelling against authority."
The man gave a low chuckle.
"No, Andy. I assure you, he wasn't calling you that for any personal reasons. It's just a fact. As much as we are nothing but a bunch of uncivilized devils, you, sankta, are a bunch of traitorous cowards."
He said it in a very matter of fact tone of voice, with no hatred or disdain behind it. Andy couldn't help but think about those words for the rest of the night. Even after he had filled his stomach with that overcooked meatbeast, after more strong alcohol had entered his frail body, after he was led to a rented room upstairs and left there by the rest to sleep the horrors of yesterday off.
Was this the right move? Mercenaries?
And as he laid there, staring at the spinning ceiling, a certain phrase resurfaced in his mind, soothing his anxiety and calming his nerves.
"A year in hell… For an eternity in heaven…"
He mumbled to himself before finally passing out.