Chapter 267: Welcome to Gorgoth

Chapter 267: Welcome to Gorgoth

It was very warm. Even more so than usual. Eastern Flatland hummed with the heat radiating from its stony ground. But it was a dry heat, so good for the respiratory system. The cloudless sky offered no protection from the sinking sun which refused to cool any, even on its way down. Its rays glinted off the armour jogging towards us.

The five guards approaching were dressed in the typical neo-Roman style. A chest plate that was a combination of leather and metal. A shirt that was long enough to form a kind of skirt. Long boots that laced up to the knee. Every soldier in Flatland wore some variation of this getup, from the very first ones wed encountered in Probet, to the ones in the various cities wed visited.

Their swords werent drawn, so that was a good sign. But it was immediately obvious the druids werent happy to see them. Which meant there was going to be a problem of some kind in a minute, and we would be dragged into it. I eyed the exits. Even outdoors, there are routes that are open and ones that are blocked.

Dereel, Deneel, called out the lead guard. What have I told you about interfering with traffic? Were in the middle of the harvest delivery, and youre clogging up the thoroughfare.

He was a short, stocky man with heavy eyebrows and a prominent nose. All the guards had tight-fitting leather helmets like a boxers head guard, but the one in charge had a slightly taller one with a fancy metal plate at the front. Hierarchy-defining hats seem to be a universal thing.

Sergeant Glick, please, said Brother Deneel in a wheedling voice. We arent interfering with anything. He used both hands to point at the slowly passing animals, then at his own feet, and then back at the animals to demonstrate how far apart they were. He kept doing this over and over, Brother Dereel joining in like some sort of synchronised dance routine.

Glick stopped and readjusted his sword belt. It kept slipping down like it didnt quite fit him. He straightened his helmet as well, which was a bit on the large side.

According to article two of the New Charter, you are prohibited from plying members of the public with promises, temptations or lures of a religious nature. He was clearly a jobsworth, but I liked him. Especially the way he was focusing on the two druids and ignoring us completely.

This is religious persecution, plain and simple, said Brother Dereel. We have rights.

No, said Sergeant Glick, you dont.

We used to, said Brother Deneel rather forlornly.

Take them into custody, said Glick to his men who came around from behind to grab the druids. According to the New Charter

New Charter? screamed Brother Dereel. What about the Old Charter?

The Old Charter is no longer valid, said Glick.

Says who? demanded Brother Dereel.

The Department of Charters, said Glick. They would know, I guess. Now stop bothering people or itll be more than a fine next time. Search their pockets.

We dont have anything, wailed Brother Dereel. He wriggled as the men went through his robes. We took a vow of poverty.Updated from novelbIn.(c)om

Thats what they all say, said Glick.

We arent bothering them, theyre our friends, said Brother Deneel pointing at me. Him, I wasnt so fond of.

The guard turned towards us. I had been slowly backing away, hoping to get a good angle to slip past the guards while they sorted out their business with the druids. A place where they taxed religionsseemed like a good idea. I was somewhat hampered in my attempt to leave by my party clumping up behind me and getting in the way.

Are you with these druids? asked the guard, peering at me more closely. Maybe we should take you in, too.

No, I said. We only just got here. Look at our clothes. Do we look like druids?

As I said it, I realised I was dressed in very basic, drab clothes that werent too far removed from the simple garb of the druids. I did a quick half-turn to reveal the others in their much more elaborate getup.

It was only then that I had a really good look at what they were wearing. They had gotten fancy new duds in Fengarad, but I hadnt bothered giving them more than a cursory glance.

Now that I was pointing them out, I noticed just how ridiculous they were. Gold braids and sequins and intricate beading on the cuffs. And matching. Claire and Maurice were in turquoise and orange. Dudley and Flossie had red and chocolate as their theme. Jenny stood out in her green and gold outfit. If she had a matching set put aside for me, Id probably have to dump her. I mean, sex is very nice and all, but a man has to draw the line somewhere.

As you can see, were part of a travelling circus. I pointed at the others. Clowns.

Sergeant Glick didnt look totally convinced, but he didnt dismiss the idea as preposterous, either.

Wheres the rest of you? he asked.

I pointed towards the rear of the endless convoy entering the city. At the back.

On your way, then, he said, waving us through.

The druids gave me a desperate look, which I ignored with gusto. I made sure to stay between them and the rest of my group, lest they do something stupid like speak or act or think.

Just as we were about to leave them to it, I remembered the point of coming here.

By the way, are there any Visitors who live in the city?

It was a simple yes or no question, but their reaction would have been more suitable if Id asked them if they knew anywhere I could buy pigshit-flavoured ice cream. Even the druids were taken aback, no longer clamoring to be friends.

I wasnt sure what the big deal was. Visitors werent generally seen as a bad thing, not in the rest of Flatland, at least. Clearly, things were different in Gorgoth.

Im only asking because we heard there were some of them in the area and we didnt want to bump into any. It was a valiant effort, but didnt really neutralise the effect of my original question as well as Id hoped.

The food was the same anonymous slop we had those first days in Probet. We werent required to heat it ourselves, although we were much better able to do that sort of thing nowadays.

The long table where we were seated was empty apart from us and Grayson, who watched us eat. It tasted pretty good and we all gladly accepted the offer of seconds.

He waited until wed finished before asking what wed been up to. The subtext was clear: How are you not dead yet?

It was a stammering, awkward, clunky retelling of various bits and pieces of our journey. The main parts involved Monsterland and Uncle Peter. I did most of the talking and left out a lot of the details. He only really needed to know we had kept the Nekromel demons from coming here, and stopped the elf from making Flatland an even flatter land. I tried my best to not implicate us too heavily in the reason for the monsters rushing across the border, but we were clearly somewhat entirely responsible.

The rest was ogres and trolls and jabberwocky. I made sure to make our adventures sound like we had lucked our way through most of it. Competence can only lead to undesirable job offers.

I didnt reveal my magic abilities or any of our groups powers. That sort of things was best kept private, I felt.

So Requbar has been devastated? asked Grayson. We have started receiving reports, but nothings been confirmed.

Im not sure how bad it was, I said. There was a lot of structural damage, but it could have been worse.

We hadnt inspected Requbar after the explosion, so it was hard to know how bad it was. I also hadnt mentioned the second explosion wed seen from the air. Best to leave it for them to sort out what that was.

The table fell into a silence, small talk not really being anyones forte, least of all Graysons.

Is there a Visitor here, in Gorgoth? asked Maurice. An old one?

Not that Im aware of. They arent too fond of your kind here. Mostly from lack of contact and baseless rumours.

Whos in charge? asked Jenny. A king?

The city is governed by the Pope. He is the Prime Ordained of the Holy Shrine.

This revelation drew some surprised murmurs. I doubt he was actually called a pope, but the translation thingy usually chose the closest word in our lexicon, so I guess he was the head guy of some church organisation. Great, more zealots.

They, ah, began Dudley, his face quickly devolving into instant regret at having started a question, they dont, um, dont believe in sacrifices and the like, crucifying non-believers and what not, um, do they? Hed rambled his way to the end of the sentence and looked thoroughly relieved to have survived. We probably wouldnt hear from him again for another couple of days.

No, said Grayson. Not yet, at least. He winced, as he had quite a few times during the meal.

The others looked at me like it was my fault. Which it was, obviously, but there was no need to draw attention to the fact. Claire nodded her head towards Grayson. Jenny nudged me. Someone kicked me under the table.

I jumped up from my seat before they started pulling out weapons. Alright, calm your tits.

What is it? asked Grayson, confused at our odd behaviour. Hed been looking at us like that pretty much since wed arrived.

I can heal you, I think. I learned it on my travels.

Grayson looked dubious. So the same as before.

Lift up your shirt.

He slowly stood up, eyes locked on mine, and pulled his shirt out of his skirt. Apparently, it wasnt a one-piece after all. It was oddly uncomfortable being watched by the others as I got intimate with this large, muscular man.

Dont tell your wife about this, I said as I placed my hands on the nasty pink gash across his stomach and along his side. It looked much worse than my little poke should have.

I dont have a wife, said Grayson.

Then dont tell your husband. Ice-cold silence. I pressed and felt him flinch. That was a joke. Not that I think theres anything wrong with two men, you know

You have issues with homosexuality? asked Grayson as I rubbed his body.

No, no. You just cant trust them, because, you know, theyre always having sex behind each others backs.

Another joke? asked Grayson.

Er, yes, because, you know, the way anal sex works... from behind

It was the most awkward healing Id ever given. I fervently wished for my hair to grow so it would cover my face.

The warmth from my glowing hands transferred and the scar faded to a very faint line. Grayson let out a long sigh, full of relief.

Thank you. I appreciate you taking the risk.

What risk? I asked.

Performing an act of beast magic is the mark of a heretic, said Grayson as he tucked his shirt back in, and the sentence is death.