I
Lorenzo remembers a memory from the past— or perhaps another world— when the ruins were still a city. In a narrow alley that tried to stay hidden from the looming castle yonder, he leaned his back against the cold wall. He was waiting in the rain that made everything gray. From the castle, the sound of the trumpet that signaled the exchanging of guards could be faintly heard.
Lorenzo waited, a cigarette in his mouth. After the sixth cigarette, he left.
In another world, in another time, Ysabelle died. In this world, in this time, Ysabelle would not.
To the left, there was sand. To the right, there were even more dunes of sand. The only sounds audible were the trudging of horses, the sand being kicked, and the silent sizzling of their being from the sun.
Within sight was the Rogue Oasis. The oasis served as the midway point from the entrance of the desert to the town of Rogue. It was as much a place for respite as it was a place for merchants to do business.
Every now and then, Lorenzo liked to stretch his abilities to keep from being too rusty. Peter and Lorenzo were riding side by side, loping their horses into the oasis. Within a second, Lorenzo disappeared from his mount and appeared under a date palm tree by the water.
Peter sighed and cursed, then dismounted and lead both his and Lorenzo’s horses to a stable. Seeing that there was no stables around the oasis, he tied the horses by the side of a small inn.
Peter and Lorenzo were both gifted men. They were blessed by the great goddess Lhiya with abilities that not every mortal had. Lorenzo could bend time, making him inhumanly agile. Peter could summon lightning and with his sword, he could wield and direct the bolt.
The oasis was not very big. It was a swimming pool–sized body of water surrounded by date palm trees. Around the pool, people lounged with their blankets. There was an inn with a boulder on top of it, meant to mimic the enormous floating rock over Rogue. Nobody knew why there was a giant boulder floating in the middle of the desert. Naturally— as with anything that people could not explain— they worshipped the boulder and built a city around which eventually became Rogue. Around the inn were a couple of stalls of fruits. There was also a lone watchtower by the water with a sleepy guard.
“I bought you your favorite food from the stall. Eat up before we enter Rogue to find our target,” Peter said, setting the bag of food down.
Lorenzo perked up at the thought of protein. It was going to be a good day if the Rogue Oasis had meat.
Peter sat down and unfurled the flyer that was in his pocket. “The bounty here is for someone named Alvin.”
Lorenzo was rummaging around the bag of food and looked up at Peter with downcast eyes.
“Alvin is apparently a covert rebel clan hiding at Rikoka; he was disguised as a Kehsai guard,” Peter continued.
“You can’t tell me you bought my favorite food without actually buying it,” Lorenzo complained.
“Are you listening?”
“You lose my trust a bit this way. You know that I like chicken. I need the protein to keep my muscles,” Lorenzo continued.
Peter looked at him for a while, “Is your favorite food not watermelon?”
“No! You know it’s not fucking watermelon.”
Peter shrugged, “I guess it is when you’re in a desert,” he said as he began digging into his portion of the fruits.
Lorenzo remained silent and ate his fruits anyway, making his displeasure as apparent as possible with his grimace.
Peter continued his briefing, “A few days ago, Alvin was caught by the Kehsai guards stealing an heirloom orb from the shrine of Rikoka. Alvin took off with another unidentified person and was believed to have fled to Rogue.”
“Which one is the fact and which is the speculation? That he ran away to Rogue or that he is a rebel?” Lorenzo asked.
“I don’t know. But it does make sense. The rebellion started in Rikoka, making the rebel leader a Rikokian,” Peter ventured.
“I thought that the leader was a Roguean,” Lorenzo interjected.
“I honestly don’t know, but rumor has it that the rebel base is somewhere in the Rogue desert, so you might have confused those two details. Assuming that the leader is indeed Rikokian and the base is in Rogue, it would make sense that the leader has some grudges about the Rikoka clan. Stealing an heirloom with symbolic significance would a reasonable motive. Then the fugitive would run to Rogue to try to bring it to their leader. It all connects.”
Lorenzo shook his head, unconvinced, “This is like trying to find faces in clouds and drawing connections for the sake of having a clear picture. There are too many assumptions. It seems to me that the only certain thing is that this Alvin guy tried to steal the magical orb of Rikoka and that two guys ran away. How far did the Kehsai guards chase them to know that they headed to Rogue? Did anyone actually see them in Rogue? Is Rogue even near the rebel base, really? Is the leader even Rikokian? We don’t know shit.”
“Maybe. But you have to have a lead and start somewhere. It’s better than having and doing nothing,” Peter said.
“Have all our missions been run like this?” Lorenzo asked.
Peter smiled. Peter and Lorenzo are retired knights that entered the continued service program of the castle, which they claim is the royal gift of purpose. This service was offered to retired warriors who had been fighting their whole lives and did not know what else to do after being discharged. In the kingdom, the biggest orphanage was the military, especially for children that were blessed by the goddess with special abilities. Many of the soldiers grew up serving the crown, having their life’s sole purpose be to serve and protect the kingdom. After a certain age, they were to be formally discharged from the military for being too old. But the program allowed them to continue doing what they do best by being the military’s unofficial militia of hitmen. They would release missions too small for the military, and bands of retirees would claim assignments whenever they pleased.
In their dynamic, Peter usually managed and led the missions while Lorenzo did the dirty work— not that their roles were strictly defined. Peter joined the skirmishes most of the time too. It’s just that Lorenzo was not the kind to ask questions. He would just follow Peter wherever he said they needed to go, and knock down whoever they need to knock down. Peter took care of receiving missions from the queen and collecting their retirement pay.
While making their way to the second half of the journey through the desert, the place showed itself better to the travelers. The parch-inducing landscape was not as barren as one would initially think. When the wind was still, and the sand was flat, one’s eyes could see far away. To the east was a high mountain where it was crested. Inside the crest were giant statues almost as tall as the mountain. Near it, the sand shifted around violently. People say it was where a giant worm resided.To the west, you could see ruins and even further— if your eyes were still sharp— even the highlands. That would mark the end of the desert, evident from its colder climate around that region. To the south, the city of Rogue has already showed itself with its red adobe walls and giant floating boulder.
When the pair reached the walls of the city, Peter said, “You go on ahead and go inside. I’ll ask the guards around the perimeter if they know anything.”
Rogue was known to have the most prominent commercial square in all of Hurlia, which was why it was always bustling with people— no matter the time. As with any place with too many people, there was also the presence of poverty and necessary thievery. Vendors yelling, “THIEF!” were commonplace, so were people sleeping in almost every corner of the red wall. It could be challenging to tell if they were beggars or drunks. It could be that some were both. As with any place with too many people, there was also the presence of the ironic and crippling loneliness among the people. Interacting with too many different people would drain the energy for making anything meaningful, so escaping that through liquor was popular.
“Ah, you cheat!” a voice rang out of the bar. The bar was shaped like a red square and was made from adobe, like most buildings in Rogue.
“The only reason you’re alive and able to cheat is that I let that dog that was chasing you hump me instead!” the raspy voice continued.
“Tsk, you always bring that up when you’re losing,” another raspy and old voice replied. The argument was coming from a table in the corner of the bar occupied by people that looked like raisins.
A young man and a pregnant woman entered the bar. The bickering old men stopped their arguments to witness the pregnant woman order a cocktail. They judged in silence for fear of trouble from the young man that looked ripped.
“Give me whiskey with exactly three cubes of ice: one for the goddess, one for the king, and one for the dragon,” the young man asked the barmaid.
The bartender stared at the young man for a while then finally said, “I will check the back if we have enough ice,” and left to the back of the bar. The young man followed him.
“Should I come with you, Alvin?” the pregnant woman asked.
“Stay there for now,” Alvin replied.
Inside the stock room of the bar, Alvin and the barmaid stood.
“Tell Jaime that I have the precious orb of the Rikoka,” Alvin said.
The barkeep raised her eyebrows.
“It’s true. I had to wrest it from that mummy they’re keeping in the shrine,” Alvin said with curling lips.
The lady smirked and put her hands akimbo, “That’s such an impressive and shitty thing to do, but judging is not a part of my job. I’ll send word for them to send an escort to guide you to the hideout. Then it’ll be up to you and Jaime to deal with each other. But first, you have to at least show me.”
From the dark corner of the cramped stockroom, a shadow swooped in and slashed the neck of the barkeep. The figure clad in black was silent except for when it struck. Its attacks were swift enough to make the air around the figure whistle.
Alvin, trained as a Kehsai guard himself, was as fast as the Kehsai that drew blood in the room. The Kehsai wasted no time and lunged at Alvin with a flurry of strikes, all of which Alvin deflected.
Outside, another Kehsai ambushed Alvin’s companion, Ciarah. Ciarah fought around and with the awkward bulge in her stomach. It was challenging to duel with an orb the size of a globe strapped to your midsection.
The stockroom door flew from its hinges and out of it came a limp Kehsai flying across the room. Alvin bounded within two leaps out the door, kicking himself off against the wall then on top of the bar and driving his knee at the Kehsai attacking Ciarah. His knee found the mouth of the Kehsai, making the guard swallow a loose tooth.
Wasting no time, Alvin and Ciarah darted through the door and disappeared into the crowd, leaving the old gambling men cowering under their table.
On the other side of the city, in a similarly shady place, Lorenzo was in an underground bar. It was the sort of place where dancing with as much skin as possible was encouraged. Lorenzo went to the underground club’s counter and bought two sticks of mind-opening herbs called Kazaz.
Lorenzo went back up and sat with a beggar near the club at the outskirts of town. Further on was the garbage dump of Rogue.
“You can choose to squat anywhere in Rogue. Why’d you choose beside the trash?”
The old beggar, without opening his eyes, replied, “People need to be closer to where they belong.”
Lorenzo sat with the beggar, and together, they smoked the Kazaz. The beggar had dark skin, like Peter. Both of them were Roguean. For some reason, Peter never gave any indication of a special feeling towards his return to his hometown, Lorenzo thought. People would usually feel more like themselves whenever they’re closer to the place they were born in.
“People also feel more like their ideal selves whenever they’re closer to the place they will die in,” the beggar said.
Lorenzo jerked his head when the old beggar replied to his thoughts. This was not the first time he had done so, but it surprised him still. The beggar smiled. The Kazaz was working, and their minds are being wrenched open. At their broadest, minds could talk to each other without speaking.
Once before, the beggar explained that the mind was like the legs of a prude virgin. By default, it is shut to anyone outside. A life of wisdom could loosen it and open it a bit. Books could help— experiences help even more. The more jarring an experience was, the looser the legs of the mind became. Kazaz could temporarily loosen the inhibitions of the brain and make these legs fall limp.
The beggar insisted that the legs were the best analogy for this phenomena— that the legs needed to be opened and penetrated for the mind to experience its reason for being. When the brain— or anything in the world— experiences its reason for being, it is the highest form of pleasure. From this, the mind could grow into the power of more than one and could know more than the average brain. It could see beyond the single plane of reality. It could have the opportunity to see the fill of knowledge for a hole of the unknown that hid within our hearts.
The beggar could say what he wanted, and Lorenzo would even let him do what he wanted. But Lorenzo did not like the mental picture of the beggar literally fucking his mind.
They sat in silence for ten minutes, smoking. Lorenzo’s heartbeat was fast, and he felt hungry.
“The start of the rope that you seek is with the lady that bears life— no— the lady that bears what once was life,” the beggar finally spoke.
“Finally. I’m getting hungry. Thanks, gramps. How can I repay you?” Lorenzo said. He stood up and wobbled and tried his best to dust his pants. Lorenzo shook sand from his whitening hair.
The beggar smiled, “I don’t need much, and I don’t have much. All I would like from you before I die is for you to tell me what you’re doing in a world that you don’t belong in.”
Peter walked around in the bar and inspected the fallen Kehsai guards and the barmaid whose head was barely hanging on her neck.
Peter decided to hide behind the counter and wait for clues to come to him. From the looks of the thrashed bar, it would surely call the attention of whoever was concerned. While waiting, he took some swigs of the free liquor around him.
Not five minutes had passed when two men cloaked in beige entered the bar. Peter noticed that the way they wore their clothes were similar to the way the Kehsai wrapped their black clothes around themselves.
“The word from Angelo was credible. Look at this place,” the first beige agent said as they walked around to inspect the place.
“Can you not use the real names of our people?” the second agent said through gritted teeth.
“Ah, FUCK! Katrina is dead too!” the first agent exclaimed as he peered into the stockroom.
The second agent shook his head, “Right. So. Word is true. That’s all we need to know. What was the description of the people we are looking for?”
“Young man with a pregnant woman,” the first agent said as they exited the bar.
That is indeed all he needed to know too, Peter thought. The rebels were less competent than he thought. Before they could exit, Peter jumped up from behind the counter.
