Scourge of Chaos: Savage Healer

Yet another face of Blumwin revealed itself before Sunday, making him wonder how many sides the city still hid from him. It was certainly much larger than his initial estimations, or at least the changes in architecture and roads made him believe so.

He and Vyn were descending down broken cobblestones toward a distant side of the lake on the opposite side of the Wayward Rat, way past the gardens he had visited with Elora, and slapped the old flower-selling lady unconscious. The homes and shops here were dirtier and more broken down than what Sunday had gotten used to seeing. Stalls and blankets still littered the street and everyone tried to sell something, but there were also small corners where groups of people spoke in hushed tones and mean-mugged anyone coming close. Small tables sat on dirt roads with various humans and undead playing all sorts of games or drinking. The latter drew Sunday’s attention but one look at the nervous Vyn made him leave the desire behind. There was more important gambling to do.

They had been walking for most of the day, scouring the place. They were careful, not asking questions and just hoping that luck would smile at them. The search for those Sunday had decided to try employing was taking its toll on the human, however. Vyn was certain there were many who could recognize his features so he had wrapped himself in shawls and a thick new cloak that gave bulk to his wiry frame. Still, his fidgety actions betrayed the discomfort all of it brought him.

“What are you going to name the drink?” Vyn asked as they left yet another broken ‘tavern’ that was little more than three walls and a curtain. Everyone looked at them strangely, but Sunday didn’t shy away from doing the same, and his glare was doing wonders.

Trying to distract yourself, huh? That’s a good question. Slaptastic Wine? Moth Juice? Sunday’s Drowned Bug Heal-all? “I haven’t thought about that yet. I’m bad at names.”

“It’s good to think of one, especially if you’re going to sell it out in the open.”

“If I was, we wouldn’t be walking around here searching for a bunch of thugs, would we? There’s a charm in buying something you’re not supposed to, and staying out of sight of the bastards on top of the food chain is always a good idea. At least until I have enough strength to protect what’s mine.” And that might take a while.

“I don’t think you’ll be out of sight for long after word gets around what it can do… We spoke about this, but something tells me you don’t realize what you’ll be up against if your healing messes with the vamps. Don’t get me wrong, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a while and my greatest shot at making it out of this shithole, so I’m with you. They are just that dangerous.”

“I’ll deal with the problems as they come. I’m not scurrying around like a rat when literal mad gods have decided to pick a bone with me.”

Vyn remained silent and fixed the shawl covering his face. The man was good at asking questions without asking them. It still surprised Sunday that he hadn’t commented much on what had happened during the task, or even questioned why they were looking for Savia and her two goons. Sunday appreciated that too. How could he explain that the Divine had a taste for him, due to reasons he himself didn’t understand, and that he was planning to turn this city upside down and make sure no one could push him around in this lifetime?

They took another corner and Sunday had to move to the side as someone almost ran into him. He frowned at the back of the sloppy young man who had tried to brush against him and checked the pouch he had gotten in swift execution of karma. Sunday had no issue taking from the poor when the poor got on his nerves or tried to explore his pockets. There were a few silver and bronze coins inside, and the pouch itself looked new and unbroken by use, probably having changed owners very recently.

The search lasted most of the day, but Sunday was patient. Even simply walking around was creating a better picture of Blumwin, and that was valuable. His product would have to reach each corner, and he planned on fleecing all levels of wealth, from the bottom to the top. That had to be managed carefully though, and by people familiar with the environment they were to use.

Safie had been left near the Arcanum to do her part as she had insisted on tagging along and being ‘useful’. They had given her a description of the thugs they were trying to find and left her sitting on a bench with a few fried buns and a glass of great-looking mead.

It was the twelfth hole-in-the-wall place that finally yielded a result, and it was the best possible one. Sunday was certain he had to navigate the conversation carefully, but the impression he got from the woman had not been bad at all. She was similar to him in how she tried to fit the needs of each situation. It was also rare to meet someone who lived on the bottom yet managed to retain personal codes and morals. It spoke of high character, twisted by circumstances and the toying of fate, rather than something rotten and unsalvageable that ate the person from the inside out.

He stepped carefully toward her small table – a feeble four-legged thing. His somewhat fancy cloak was quite eye-catching in these parts, but his current expression and the way he carried himself proved to be enough of a deterrent for those with questions. Being an undead with almost glowing red eyes had its advantages when it came to intimidating the lower members of society, and the handle of the sword proudly sticking at his side only added to the character.

Savia looked up from the small book she was holding, there was a flash of surprise before her relaxed face turned into a cold grimace that made even Sunday hesitate. She knows how to work her charms. It will take more to make me fold, woman.

Vyn remained near the entrance, watching the street. He was trying to act tough to a comical degree, but Sunday let him be. This place was even more comfortable than the Wayward Rat to him – it felt safer than anywhere else. Nostalgic, perhaps.

The rest of the patrons consisted of two unconscious old men and an undead with half a face using a wooden straw to drink from a large bottle. The owner hid behind the shoddy bar with practiced grace, allowing himself only brief glimpses toward Sunday.

“Fancy running into you here,” Sunday said and took a seat without waiting for an invitation. “I feel like our last conversation was a bit rushed. Did you think about my offer?”

Savia frowned. “What offer? And how did you find me?”

“It took some time. And my offer was for you and yours to work for me.”

The woman sighed and closed her book carefully, tucking it into a leather bag hanging at her side which she tied shut.

“Look,” she said. “I’m employed. Throwing myself in the hands of a potential healer sounds amazing, but my boss won’t be happy and I don’t want him unhappy. You standing here is enough proof that they’ve yet to find an opportunity to ‘speak’ with you, but that won’t last. That boy behind you is more known around these parts than you think; he’s a magnet for nasty shit. His arrogant sister turned this place upside down, offended the one who gives the most to the worst of Blumwin, stole from a few others, and fucked off into the sunset. Everyone knows him because of her, and everyone wants a piece.”

“If his sister is so hated, why is he still alive?” Sunday asked in turn, making the woman look at him as if he had two heads.

“Because there’s a debt to be paid.”

Sunday leaned forward and lowered his voice, “He can’t pay shit. You know that and I know that your employer surely knows it as well. If what’s her name pissed off so many people, then how convenient that one of the most influential bloodsuckers in Blumwin has him on the hook so no one else dares to take out their frustrations on poor Vyn, don’t you think?”

Savia narrowed her eyes but didn’t speak. She leaned forward as well though, and there was a thoughtful look in her eye.

“You’re not saying…”

“What were your exact orders when it came to him, and what was the reaction of your boss when you mentioned Vyn’s back from the excursion? I’m sure you’ve done all you could to not let him go in the first place, right?”

It was not the first time Sunday had thought about it. His working theory was that Chaotic Step threw him places for a specific purpose, and if his experience in the swamp was indicative of things, everyone was a piece of the puzzle.

Savia fell in thought and Sunday waited. At least her hand was not playing with the knife strapped to her thigh anymore – a great sign of progress. He threw a friendly smile toward the supposed owner, who slowly rose from behind the bar and having found his courage gestured toward a dusty bottle. Sunday nodded.

Soon enough the cleanest cup in the whole district – a chipped misshapen wooden thing – was sat before him. A dark sludgy liquid filled it halfway and let out puffs of smoke that made even Sunday wary, especially since it was cold. What is this? Another magic drink, or an attempted murder?

“They told us to watch out for him, make sure he doesn’t leave, stop others from fucking with him, and scare him from time to time as a reminder that there’s an unpaid debt… Oh.” Savia looked at Sunday with a new light in her eyes. It didn’t seem she liked the conclusions she had reached. “That only makes the issue larger for you and gives me a reason to wash my hands. I don’t do complicated. And they won’t look kindly on you using him for whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Oh, please. I don’t care about that.” I’ll rustle their feathers enough even if I ditch Vyn, so what the hell. The bigger the stink, the better… or something like that. “What I want is your help.”

“Why me? Don’t you have better connections? You’re a mage and you’re staying at the Rat, that should be plenty to open doors for you I can’t even think of without being killed.”

“Some relations come with chains that might grow taut in time. I’d like to explore as many different possible routes and you and I are similar. Putting too much trust in a few people will come back to bite me. This way I can guarantee that even if someone betrays my good intentions, I won’t end up alone against the world,” Sunday slowly explained.

It had been a lesson learned after many failures. One had to be prepared for betrayals, opportunities, failure, and all things random chance threw at you. Of course, that was something impossible in the grand scheme of things, even if magic was involved. However, it trying to do the impossible that made all the difference.

Savia nodded at that. “You sound smart, but your path is doomed. I’m loyal. I don’t think you can match my current pay, and I’m certain you won’t be able to protect me if the need arises.”

“I don’t want you to stab anyone in the back, nor do I need you to rough people up,” Sunday countered. “You won’t get in trouble if you’re careful. I’m sure you know enough people to do what I need you to do without sacrificing anything.”

“Then what do you want? I’m not good at much apart from violence.” Her scarred hands gripped her cup with a strange intensity that lasted only a moment.

The play demands certain roles, but it’s up to us to change the script. Sunday lifted the cup and after wondering if now would be the appropriate time to pray for the first time, took a sip. He almost exclaimed in surprise as the thick liquid coated his tongue. It was a bit bitter and very sweet. It was cold but unmistakable. A cold hot chocolate!? Here? And Riya hasn’t told me yet… I knew I couldn’t trust her. He smiled at his cup and licked his lips before meeting Savia’s eyes again.

“Perhaps, you haven’t been given the chance? What I offer you, and your men is to sell alcohol, at least at the start. You don’t have to quit serving the vampires if you like it so much.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t have a choice.”

“But you do have a choice. I’m offering you one.”

“To sell booze? Do you think I wouldn’t prefer that over going around intimidating people or throwing drained bodies away?” Savia hissed. There was anger there, and it remained to be seen if was aimed at him, at the vampires using her, or both. Perhaps herself as well? It wasn’t new to Sunday as well, although he liked himself a great deal all things considered. “There are more brewers in this city than people, and they are not kind to new faces trying to grab a piece of the pie. If you think you’re the first to try and go around hiring people you’re—”

“Trust me, my booze will be memorable.”

She sighed and drained her cup. “That’s what they all think. This is a waste of time. I was hoping to finally get a breather and enjoy some silence.”

“Come by the Wayward Rat and I’ll show you. You don’t have to commit to anything, but I could use someone like you, and I’m certain I won’t disappoint.”

Savia glared at him for a while, before dropping a few copper pieces on the table and leaving. Sunday watched her go and shoulder check Vyn who almost dropped his disguise. This was tougher than I expected. She has no reason to trust me.

The thought of just busting some vampire heads open playing around in his head, but without knowing what they were capable of was a no-go. He shuddered at the thought of how much his strength would increase if he was known in Blumwin and drained the cup of chocolate booze.

“Excuse me, good sir,” he said with his widest smile, startling the owner. “How much for every bottle you have of this exquisite drink? And, do you by chance know where I can purchase some garlic?”