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Chapter 243
🕑 Added 2024-10-25 04:18:44 +0000 UTCThe streets have changed. The air is tight, tense, and angry. The Apotheosis has changed everything here, and I knew that my time here would be short, and, beyond that, this would be my final time in the beautiful, artificial capital Viertaal. The happily bustling streets now ring with the constant patrol of the steel-shod boots of soldiers, and my favorite bakery has closed its doors to become just another ration dispensing depot. Angry glares, so rare before, now meet my gaze frequently, and every other face looks at mine with distrust.
Viertaal has changed, and I don’t like it. I leave before the week ends.
-From the twenty sixth entry of the epistolary travel journal of Kayuktuk the Landlocked
“Come on Alpha! Why didn’t you call me?”
“Ytte. There is no way I could have known that whoever came to speak to us would be wearing that special metal armor. You were already en route to us when he arrived, and you hadn’t arrived by the time he left. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“I know! But… This is stupid!” She pouted as she continued to drag her massive rock along. “Maybe he could have helped us understand what to do with this massive pain in the tail!” As the days had continued to pass, Ytte learned and honed the skill of how to constantly manipulate the earth below her to be smoother and easier to drag her hundred-pound burden.
Ytte stormed off and sat on her rock while the rest of us rested until, once night fell, the swarm began our journey. Annoying as the magical khatif’s complaints were, she was lugging around a massive mound of stone that only supposedly had great value, and she’d lost the opportunity to be in direct contact with someone who appeared to know at least something about its metallurgical properties.
With Ytte finished with her tirade, Sybil approached me, her steps pensive and sure in the darkness.
“That face means you’ve been thinking. Tell me about it.”
She flared her frills in acquiescence. “Most… ‘people’... are loathe to label us people.”
“And?”
“All ‘people’ we’ve met thus far have had one thing in common: clothing. What exactly is the purpose of clothing?”
Ah… I paused for a moment. “Well, its purpose is twofold. The first as a functional covering that protects the wearer, such as the armor that Drolick was wearing today. That protects him from attack, as metal is generally stronger and harder to pierce than flesh. The humans in the Veratocracy wear those full-body coverings because it makes them harder to detect.” She flared her frills in understanding. “The second is to do with the idea of modesty, I suppose. Creatures who wear clothing use it to cover their genitals as a matter of modesty, since having yourself seen when not explicitly engaging in mating behavior is embarrassing or shameful to those with a sense of modesty.”
Sybil’s head slowly cocked to the side. “This sense of modesty seems stupidly inefficient. I understand the protective measures, but who cares if your reproductive organs are seen any more than a different part of your body? It’s just a body? I enjoy looking at your thick shoulders and hips, or your strong tail and fierce hands more than your penis.”
I chuckled as I tried to respond. “Regardless, the sense of modesty is a sense that is seemingly shared universally among so-called ‘civilized’ races. The Moonchildren, Sunkindred, Veushten, and, apparently, any others will almost certainly share this sense of shame.”
Sybil thought for a moment. “By their own logic, we should be far more civilized than they, just by birth.”
“Why is that?”
“We’re born with protective coverings, our scales, which also provide us with a sense of modesty, since we have our genital folds that protect our reproductive organs. So, we are inherently and efficiently garbed after their own manner.”
The slight chuckles that had already risen at her previous response devolved into giggles at her wholly logical response. “I suppose you’re right, but they probably wouldn’t care.”
Sybil sighed, then began turning away, losing herself in thought. “Then I guess we will need to begin clothing construction… would leather be better…? I’m sure Shemira would…” As my mate lost herself in her musings, I turned back to supervise the continued passage of the swarm.
As per my command, the swarm was moving as unobtrusively as we could muster, and were also making good time. I looked around, taking stock of the moving bodies, and was happy to see that there weren’t any stragglers or distracted members of the swarm slowing down our general progress.
With the nipping winds of the fabled autumn I’d never before experienced beginning their blowing, I was sure that we would have more than enough night to make our passage unobtrusively, but I wanted to make our campsite at least a couple hours’ worth of travel past the city itself by the time the sun rose, so I went to begin pushing the swarm to greater speeds once we had passed the city itself. The landscape opened up more and more as we pushed past the cramped Sheer Pass, and, while we couldn’t see that far in the dark, there was an intangible feeling of openness and freedom as we stepped out of the constrained valley between the two mountain ranges. The plains began to open before us, the grasses growing tall, taller than the average keelish, and the plains before us spread, apparently endless and fertile.
It was as the swarm began to feel complacent that a chorus of chuffing, snarling growls began to sound from in front of the main body of the swarm. I called out, “Easy! Stay together, stay alert, stay ready!” Just after that, the growls coalesced into one cry, and four figures rushed out of the grasses at the keelish in the front.
Without hesitation, the figures began lashing out with hand and jaw, and keelish bodies fell in their advance. It was strange, though. Were these ambushers not aware that now that they no longer had surprised us, we would be able to rally and pursue?
“They seem intelligent! Try to subdue instead of slay, if possible! Vefir, Etra, you’re on triage, so stay close but hang back!” After my barked orders, I sprinted towards the scene of the battle. On three of the four fronts, the attacker had already been subdued, buried under slashing claws, gnashing fangs, and falling poleaxes. In snarling tones, they communicated with each other, looking confusedly between themselves as they were held painfully against the ground. I ran to the final, still struggling individual.
It was a thickly furred beast with two legs and arms, like a human with a long, thin tail and thick, black fur under its intricate leather armor. It looked furiously and snarled from side to side as it swiped threateningly with its paws as the keelish tried to hold it at bay with their poleaxes. They were mostly unsuccessful, with the crazed beast accurately seizing openings and rushing to where it could wreak the most havoc and damage. Keelish squealed out in pain and suffering as the creature struck out again and again, but fortunately, the keelish banding together kept their fellows from being slaughtered, and were instead sustaining heavy injuries. As I approached, the defenders spread out and gave me an opening to approach.
“Tell me,” I asked in the human tongue, confident that it would understand. “How stupid do you have to be to lead four individuals against a body of several hundred?”
The beast turned to me, eyes rolling in a fury. “We are your ancient predator, the Misti Hawar! You should flee before our cries and be cut down like wheat before the scythe!”
“I guess your answer is pretty damn stupid.”
The male-voiced beast was particularly enraged by my response, but I wasn’t feeling inclined to charitable thinking either, so I approached while he continued to run his mouth. “You pest! You were supposed to flee and smash stupidly against the walls of Shandr, then be eliminated by the guard!”
I didn’t respond as I engaged in battle with the foreign “Misti Hawar”. Stupid he may be, but a great fighter too. He was quick, even quicker than me. He had a good battle sense as well, the glowing spots under [Combatant’s Bloodlust] only appearing for brief moments, and he was a whirling tornado of raging assaults. Unfortunately for him, Wisterl was a wilder, crazier fighter than he could hope to be, and when one of his sweeping strikes went wide, I pressed the attack and, with a decisive blow, lopped his hand off at the wrist with the claws of my left hand.
“Dulvroc take you, you vermin! Accursed, blight created filth! I’ll kill you!” Angrier than before, the boy rushed back in, and, before long, with a snick of my jaws, his other hand was liberated from his body.
“I don’t care who you are. You’re an idiot. Obviously, you know Shandr, and I told Drolick that violence would be repaid in blood. I guess we’ll need to speak with him before the night is through.”
