Chapter 34: The Hungry Path Of Uncertainty.


    “Please.” Nero begged, but his pleas bounced off of the woman uselessly. She was moved, he could see, but not moved half enough to shake her resolve.


    “I’m sorry.” She replied.


    “They’ll burn it down!” Nero snapped. “They’ll burn a town down with everyone in it, men, women, children, every single person will suffer and die if you don’t help us.”


    Nero felt the tears wet his cheek, heard the way his voice cracked as he spoke. He was so close, so close, it couldn’t end like this.


    “Nero, she’s not going to change her mind, let’s go.” Selvas told him, voice uncharacteristically soft. “We’ll find some other way.”


    He ignored her and dropped to his knees. There was no other way, there was no other option, this was it, right now the person who stood between Stradale’s life and death was the stranger in front of him.


    “I… I just want to do something good for once.” He told her. He didn’t know what he was wishing for, didn’t know exactly how a man she’d never met before was going to convince her to abandon her leader and come help him, but Nero was done being rational, rationality was not a privilege afforded to desperate men at the end of their rope.


    She met his eyes, and Nero held hers.


    Please, please, please.


    And then, wordlessly, she shook her head and turned for the door.


    “Wait!” Nero screamed, voice frantic, he scrambled onto his feet. “I… I can help you.” He spat. “You want your friend freed, I… I can help with that.” he pointed quickly to Selvas. “We can help with that.”


    She raised an eyebrow, about to ask a question, but Nero didn’t have time for her to give it voice.


    “You fought us, you’ve seen what we’re capable of, if anyone can break them out, it’s probably us.” He pressed, words shooting out of his mouth with barely a moment of thought between them. “And if we die trying, it’s no loss to you.”


    He could see it in her eyes now, she was considering it, considering exactly how many other Might users in Tayalnisyan were as powerful as they were.


    Not many.


    Now she was thinking of how many would work to break a wanted criminal out of a jail basically for free.


    None.


    Nero should have been confident, but there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes, like debris against a glass surface.


    “It’s too dangerous.” She said, “We don’t know you, for all I know this could be a ploy for the city Lady to get all of us.” She added hesitantly. “If we’re going to find someone to pull this off, it’ll have to be a person we approached, not the other way around.”


    Nero’s heart sank, he felt like he was going to puke. It was over, it was all over, and yet his mouth was moving before he could think. “You can trust me.” He told her.


    Wordlessly, he stretched his palm out, reached for that raging power that thrummed hungrily within him and set his hand ablaze with a golden light.


    Her eyes widened, then widened even further as she saw the golden Imp hover just inches above Nero’s palm.


    “I am the Light Breather.”


    The woman took a step back, her lips were quivering, her body trembling. She made a gesture across her chest and then looked at Nero with an expression that he couldn’t quite place, yet one he recognised well from Alisan back in the tower.


    Worship. He recognised it was worship.


    “Come with me.” She croaked and then turned for the door.


    Nero didn’t hesitate even a moment before following.


    The hot air of Damnation beat angrily against Tommy’s back, his legs felt heavy underneath him and still, still he felt the best shape he’d been in for a long while.


    There was a metaphorical spring to his step and the world smelled that much more beautiful.


    “Have you ever seen a Crimson up close before?” Tillian asked. He wasn’t a native of Stradale, instead a young outlaw, one of the lucky few who ran around Hell under no Demon’s serfdom.


    He had been chosen for his impressive Toughness by Cain. So Tough in fact that in his years as an outlaw there didn’t seem to be a hint of a scar on him. That was rare, even for a boy only eighteen years old like he was.


    “The ones who showed up at Stradale were the first I’d ever seen.” Tommy told him. They were walking past the hills, using the massive mounds of land as cover to obscure themselves from the approaching forces.


    They needed to scout to get a better read on the enemy forces. Cain was off recruiting, because the simple fact was that people were exponentially more likely to join their side when someone as powerful as her was the one pitching the idea.


    Even if it is the losing side.


    “Oh, you saw one, what were they like?” Sussana, the Vitrakin, asked from behind. Well, Vitrakin no more, he supposed, by joining their side she’d forfeited any chance to ever go back home. She was impressive because she was a Caster, a rare find and useful in unconventional battles.


    “Terrifying…” Tommy answered, suppressing a shudder. He hadn’t seen them in action, only heard from spectators of how quick and ferocious they were against the executioner.


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    How much more powerful, then, is the executioner for killing one.


    ‘Alfie’…


    He should probably start thinking about him as that, and not the title the Chieftain gave him. It was not just right, but the least Tommy could do if he ever wanted a chance at being seen as anything other than the addict who nearly got the Light Breather killed.


    Alfie had wanted to be the one doing the scouting, but both he and Gunther had urged him against it. He was just too much of a valuable Mighty and the risk of him getting surrounded and killed was simply too great.


    Tommy had volunteered immediately, desperate to do good, desperate to put that sense of direction he was finally feeling to some good use. And so he and four other Mighty set off from Stradale.


    The remaining two were Aigburth the mercenary archer and Rollins the Stradalian hunter.


    The pair were quiet, and while Aigburth’s seemed more out of contemplation, Rollins’s silence was a seething rage that screamed out from his eyes.


    Robbed his wife.


    Yes, that was what Tommy had done.


    And when he brought the matter to the Chieftain, the lack of witnesses meant that Tommy got to walk free. Rollins hadn’t let it go however, so he showed up to Tommy’s home in a rage, eager to teach him a lesson but found a beating instead of retribution.


    It was, in truth, mostly a blur to him, but certainly not to Rollins. Tommy would bet good crystals that the poor man remembered every last detail of that day and was reminded of it every time he saw Tommy.


    And now that we’re together, it must be the only thing at the forefront of his mind.


    Tommy added that to the list of many things he had to make right.


    He’d become a protector of Stradale, been a lookout and occasionally gone hunting to help Gunther stockpile medicinal resources and food for the upcoming attack, and while those things felt nice, not once had he actually walked up to a person he’d wronged and apologized.


    Because I’m a coward.


    That was the truth, he was scared, scared of what they’d say, scared of what they’d do and worst of all scared that he wouldn’t keep on trying to be better if he didn’t like what he heard.


    Nothing horrified him more than the idea of turning back into what he once was. An aimless man, less a person and more a whirlwind of destruction.


    Well he had to stop being a coward someday.


    Tommy slowed and let Rollins catch up with him. The man’s malice bleeding gaze fell on Tommy for a moment, he tensed, as if expecting an attack then looked away.


    “I’m sorry.” Tommy said. “I’m sorry for hurting your wife, I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m sorry for what I was, and I… I just want you to know that I’m doing everything in my power to make things right.”


    Rollins'' reply came quickly, and it was as hot as a whip. “Can you just fuck off with that.” He scoffed. “Fuck off with your fucking journey to be a better man bullshit, I see you looking out for everyone, you become a protector, help Gunther out in gathering and spend sleepless nights watching for invaders.”


    “I… I don’t understand.” Tommy said, throat tight.


    “And then you fucking look at us from the corner of your eyes, hoping somebody saw, hoping that we’re all thinking ‘wow, look how much better of a person Tom the piece of shit junkie has become, he’s probably not going to mug me when I walk home alone tonight, you know what we should do, we should forgive him for mugging us last month and invite him to our homes for dinner’”


    Tommy felt his guts twist. That wasn’t what he was doing. No, it was. It wasn’t what he meant to- but what did it matter what he meant to do? It was the truth and that was that.


    “Listen, the only reason I’m here is because these three don’t know who you are, and I’d never forgive myself if their misplaced trust in you is what gets them killed.” Rollins said and then quickened his pace to join the rest of the group.


    Tommy watched him go, shoulders that much heavier, the world smelling that much more pungent and his heart aching.


    Rollins turned around to face Tommy, bow ready and knocked an arrow into it. Tommy stopped, but didn’t move to run, perhaps he should just let him kill him, that might be the only good thing in this world he could manage.


    “Duck, you idiot!” The man growled, let loose the arrow and Tommy did.


    The projectile struck a man in pale plate armor, shattering it and sticking shallowly into his shoulder.


    They were more behind him, four to be exact, and they were coming straight at them.


    Nero and Selvas were silent as they followed behind the stranger, sliding along shadows and squeezing through alleyways. It occurred to him yet again that this could be a trap, she could be leading them straight to the Demon Lord of this city to exchange the Light Breather for their leader.


    Nero waited for the panic to come, the urge to run, the hesitation and terror to come knocking and banging at every door in his head.


    Nothing came.


    He was just that desperate, if this was a trick, then Stradale was already doomed.


    They reached a small building, not at all dissimilar from the many others that dotted the city, and the woman knocked on its door six times with what sounded like a specific rhythm.


    Nero waited and it opened with barely a creak.


    The four armed gorilla went in first, then she did and then gestured for Nero and Selvas to follow.


    Nero took in a deep breath and entered, hearing Selvas’ footsteps echo his.


    The building was cold, dark and stuffy. There wasn’t much illuminating light save from the glow from several pots which held brightly coloured swirling liquids within them.


    It reminded Nero of Gunther’s potion shop and brought back memories of his time in Stradale.


    The man overseeing the pots was not hard faced or short however. Instead he was a lean, tall man, aged and wrinkled so that he looked maybe a few decades younger than Cain and smiling brightly to display missing teeth.


    “Jion, you brought guests!” He beamed, hands raised in the air. He sprung up with a suddenness uncharacteristic of one his age and rushed towards Nero with a jittery quickness.


    He halted right in front of him, far too close for comfort and far too eagerly. Nero could make out details of his worn face that he would rather not have had the pleasure of viewing.


    His discomfort was made ever greater by the man beginning to sniff him intently, like a dog tracking a scent.


    “Excuse me.” Nero said, stiffly.


    The man looked up at him and grinned knowingly. “You’re not from around here.”


    “I… what?” Nero blinked. “Don’t fucking sniff me.”


    “Outsider, you lack the stink of Dolore.” The weirdo concluded. He walked up to Selvas, perhaps to do the same but thought better of it at the flash of her blade.


    “Leave them alone Erlo, they’re friends.” The woman called out. She’d taken off her hood now and her long red hair cascaded down her face.


    “Friends, friends.” The old man nodded, grinning at something Nero couldn’t identify. He stroked a long white wispy beard as he stood there. That combined with his long robes gave him a striking resemblance to a wizard.


    “Friends.” Nero repeated cautiously.


    Erlo, stretched out his hand to shake his and Nero took it. The man wrapped his other hand around it and shook Nero’s hand so vigorously that he thought he was going to lose it.


    Nero stumbled forwards, nearly lost his balance and pulled his hand free.


    The man turned to the woman and shook his head disappointedly. “Jion, our new friend has a poor hand shake.”


    Nero glared at the bastard who just smiled back


    What was it with old people in this world.


    “I said, stop that!” The woman, Jion, stepped in front of Erlo and glared at him. There was a rigid sternness in her eyes, one that made the old man calm down ever so slightly. “He’s not just anyone Erlo, Nero here is the Light Breather.”


    The man raised an eyebrows. “Bullshit.”


    Ember floated out of Nero’s pocket and drifted up to his shoulders. “Hi.” She waved.


    His eyes widened, “Not bullshit.”


    “We’re here to break your friend out of prison.” Ember revealed, striding forwards and dragging the room’s eyes along with her. Even the gorilla seemed interested in what she was saying. “I trust you lot already had plans for this, let’s hear them.”


    And they did, quite a lot in fact, and yet none seemed to provide a way to actually come out of their predicament with all limbs intact. Nero helped, Selvas did as well, but morning was already nearing and they still didn’t have a concrete answer.


    Suddenly Erlo looked at Nero, leaned in close and with an expression as grim and heavy as life and death itself asked. “How wide is your arsehole?”