Chapter 8

Chapter 8

“Hello there, old human! How does the day find you?” said the male incani.

“The day found him unlucky for sure, brother,” said the woman incani.

Erick had walked the mostly-straight road heading out from the sewerhouse to the courthouse. In hindsight, he should have taken a different street. Jane probably didn’t walk this way. She would have known better. Erick should have known better too, but everyone he’d met so far had been friendly. Everyone except for the incani. He’d forgotten about them.

So now he was flanked by two horned purple people, each with knives, while a third watched from a porch. It was almost exactly the same situation as before, but this time Erick was their only target.

He slipped into the most welcoming version of himself and rolled with the situation. “The day finds me well. How are you, young whippersnapper?” Erick tried to walk forward, but the man stepped into his path. Erick tried to step the other way, but the man stepped into Erick’s path again. Erick stopped trying to get around the incani. “Are you asking me for a dance, or do you do this to all the old men you meet?”

The man smiled wide. “You’ve learned the language rather quickly.”

“It’s a miracle!” said the woman. “That makes this much simpler.”

“Oh?” Erick gave them their prompts to move the encounter along, “What’s so simple about ‘this’?”

“I’m glad you asked!” The man stepped back, bowing. He stood straight, a smile cracking open his fang-filled mouth. “Since you’re new in town and you’re probably looking for friends—”

“With friends like you, there’s no need for enemies.”

The man’s smile widened.

A sharp pressure touched Erick’s lower back.

Hit for 27!

And then the pressure was gone, the woman had withdrawn her knife and stepped away. A single drop of blood dripped from the first inch of her blade. The smile that blossomed on her face was filled with pure, malicious joy, but it was quickly schooled into a half-crazed smirk.

“He stumbled into your knife rather deeply there, sister.”

“All I did was hold it! He did that all himself!”

“It’s okay. No one would be so excitable as to be upset over such a small tap.”

“But he’s already made so many mistakes, brother.”

“He has, hasn’t he.” The man stared at Erick. “You’re not welcome in Spur, pink piggy, but if you choose to stay, there is a way to make yourself welcome.” He stepped to the side, saying, “We’ll talk later, I’m sure. You can either come back here tomorrow, or we can come calling on you at the sewerhouse. Or we could just talk to your daughter. Either works for our purposes.”

Two spells hit him in quick succession.

Healed for 290!

And then the air thickened, twisting into a heat mirage. Blood vanished into the breeze flowing through the street. Erick almost touched the place where he had been stabbed, but this was not like any situation he had ever been in before. He didn’t want to move too fast.

The man said, “You’re free to go.”

The woman called out, “See you later, pink piggy!”Ñ00v€l--ß1n hosted the premiere release of this chapter.

Erick stepped forward. He walked past the man, and kept going.

He went straight to the courthouse.

- - - -

Normally, Erick would not seek help from the law over a casual gang encounter. As he had never been an officer on any planet, involving the law had always led to an escalation of hostilities that made solving the systemic problems of any community more difficult. So he wasn’t going to the courthouse to snitch.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing at the courthouse, but he would find out soon enough.

The redscale guard from the other day was on duty, sitting behind his desk. Today was a busy day compared to the last time he was here. Two dragonpeople in suits walked across the center globe room, while another dragonperson spoke to Redscale at the desk, her bright yellow scales the color of the sun. Erick waited his turn with Redscale, but as a moment turned into a minute, Erick realized that the guard’s talk didn’t seem like courthouse business. It was a casual conversation.

And it wasn’t ending.

Erick took a step closer. Redscale eyed him, but continued to talk to Yellowscale.

Erick took another step closer. Yellowscale eyed him.

“It’s not that bad, Hera.” Taro said, “Hey, can you go away now, Erick?”

“Of course.” Erick nodded. “Sorry for bringing up bad memories. It was nice to meet you both. Hera, Taro.”

“Sorry... about...” Hera focused again, saying, “Good luck.”

Erick walked out.

Down the courthouse steps, Taro caught up to him, saying, “Hey. Hold up.”

Erick did.

“I didn’t mean to chase you away like that, but... There’s a history. If you’re actually going to be a part of Spur and you’re an avowed pacifist, you should go to the Interfaith Temple. Get some proof of it and then pin it to your shirt. It might not stop the harassment, but it might.”

Erick smiled. “I’ll do that. Thank you, Taro.”

“Down that way.” Taro pointed. “Big white building surrounded by a vineyard. Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Erick stepped down onto the street, waving farewell. Taro was already leaving. Hera stood the top of the stairs, her gaze heavy, forlorn. She waved goodbye, a quick motion more perfunctory than sincere, as she followed Taro back inside the courthouse.

- - - -

Higher than most of the buildings in Spur and at least half again as tall as the city walls, the Temple of the Faithful was stark white buttresses, peaked roofs, and bright stained glass, in the center of a green and purple vineyard twice as wide as the Temple itself. Here and there under the sun dappled trellises, there were people. A lot of people, in many different groups under the extensive grapevine canopy. Most of them were Dragonkin. Some of them were the metal people, the Wrought. A smattering were the beautiful giants, the Orcol, and Erick was much more mindful of his wandering eyes than he had been before. The Orcol did not appreciate all of the blessings of their patron god. A few Incani noticed Erick, but then ignored him completely. Here and there, in even rarer numbers than the crowds they were servicing, were people wearing what were probably priest robes.

The Temple was located firmly in a heavily populated part of Spur, too. Getting here was an exercise in dodging crowds and navigating people. As he approached the entrance to the gardens, a redmetal fake-dragonkin was there, wearing his metal flesh like a priest’s robe.

“Welcome to the Interfaith Temple. How can I help you?”

“I’ve heard that I can get a proof of pacifism here and that might help me mitigate the Quiet War from happening to me inside Spur. Is that correct?”

Redmetal’s face scrunched up. “It’s possible.” He looked to people gathering behind Erick, then pointed to the right of the garden, speaking to the new arrivals, “That way for the end of the line, fair farmers.” The newcomers left in the direction the priest pointed, saying ‘thank you’. The priest pointed behind him as he spoke to Erick, “Follow the path right to the main doors. Someone will be able to assist you inside.”

Erick walked along the path, eyeing the groups of people as he went. The soft sound of the wind and the gentle voices of people reciting lines filled the vineyard. Almost all of those gathered here wore simple clothes, most of them with mud or grass stains. All of them were sitting on the grass, or standing around, in groups of ten, with one priest to a group. He even spotted the little pinkscaled girl who spoke to them on the way into Spur. She was sitting in a group with the man from that day, too, while a priest recited lines to the group.

A group buzzed with light, all at once, then went quiet. The participants quietly broke group, bowing to the priest as they went—

Erick was at the main temple door. An older silverscale dragonkin stood there in a nice, plain white dress, as though waiting for him. She supported herself with a cylindrical staff of straight, dark wood, in the firm grip of one hand. The other hand held something, unseen.

Her voice crackled, “Hello, Erick Flatt!” She shoved the unseen thing in her hand into Erick’s hands. It was a silver, four-pointed star. “You’ve come for this, and this you shall have! You are now an avowed pacifist in the eyes of the Temple. Congratulations!” She smiled. “But there’s no quest text to this, so you’ll just have to trust me. By the by, you’re still allowed to smack a brat that knifes you in the street, but maybe when you’ve got a bit more HP, hmm!”

“Uh.” Erick looked at the star pin. It might have been made of silver. “Thanks?”

“Now git! The Old Bastards are telling me that you might be deep in the sewerhouse for the foreseeable future, but it’s your daughter that’s in deep shit.”

“Uh... —Okay!” Erick nodded, smiled, then turned right around, saying, “Thanks!”

“Pin that on your shirt, right now!”

“Right.” Erick did so. “Yes. Thanks again!”

“Go! Go!”

And Erick went. He wasn’t about to dismiss a nebulous warning from this priest. No way.

Up ahead, past the edge of the vineyard and past the redmetal priest, were three unknown incani directly in the middle of Erick’s path. One of them took immediate notice of the pin and pulled the other two away. Erick continued forward. He would have walked right into them, had they not made themselves scarce.

Well that was pretty cool.

Erick thumbed the four-star pin on his chest.

Useful, but I’m not sure how or why it works.

Just like magic!

- - - -