Chapter Thirty-Five

  Sometimes Cenna wondered about how he’d been raised within the Black Scripture. When the lines looked gray in his eyes and still he was told to use his spear… a heretical village, a demihuman that appeared to be no threat to anyone… on those days, he asked himself, ‘Is this really what a hero of humanity does?’

  But there were other times when doubt was not a line, but a distant dot he could barely see, when he was certain beyond words that he was entirely in the right. ‘This is the sort of thing I should be doing.’ Such thoughts were scarce in his life, but when they occurred, they were embraced. Cenna cracked his knuckles and made his way out the way he’d come, his spear shrunk down to its innocuous and almost undetectable state, and the Captain of the Black Scripture could have been any bullyboy in ‘cheap’ leather armor.

  He half expected someone to approach him, threaten him, warn him… but nothing happened. ‘I suppose she got to me before anyone noticed I was ‘too curious’. Even so, I have to wonder if she drew some attention to herself that she shouldn’t have…’

  That too, rubbed him the wrong way. Growing up with supreme strength meant that the most important lessons of his youth was to exercise care in how he handled others. To misuse his strength was to do serious harm, even without meaning to. There was no ‘cutting loose’ outside of combat.

  So it rubbed him the wrong way to think of thugs sneering down on a peasant woman and beating her black and blue for some ‘offense’. ‘Not everything they taught me was garbage.’ Cenna reluctantly acknowledged when he stepped out onto the street.

  One of those ‘non worthless’ lessons involved his inspection of the exterior. [Focus] He used his skill and began to walk around the outside. With this skill, he could put additional sensitivity into one or more senses by drawing upon the mana of his body. As scouting methods went, it had its limitations, reducing the mana he would potentially use to fuel his martial arts and making him detectable to those who were sensitive to magic detection.

  ‘I doubt they’ve got anyone I need to worry about for either of those things, though.’ He reasoned, and so he used it without worry. The use made it worthwhile. In this instance, he put the mana into his hearing.

  “...Three boys, three girls, and a full gold piece.”

  “Is he buying them?”

  “No. Renting. For the whole night.”

  “Will they be intact in the morning?”

  “I’ve rented to him before, they won’t be happy. But they’ll be alive.”

  The crude laughter set Cenna’s teeth on edge, but he continued to listen from behind the building.

  “Good. If he wanted them disposed of, that would cost a lot more than one gold piece.”

  “He used to do that, but now everybody knows what he is, so it’s more like a taunt to the whole kingdom that they stay alive.”

  “As long as nobody gives us any problems. When will he get here?”

  “Soon. Just keep a few security guards around to deter anyone from playing hero.”

  Cenna felt vaguely sick, when he listened to the crude voices within, the client they referred to was fairly obvious, given what the whore previously suggested. ‘The adventurer she spoke of… Cerebrate…’ And in that, he counted himself lucky.

  Spotting adventurers was easy when you were used to dealing with them, they all moved a certain way, strong ones were casual and observant, watchful even when they didn’t need to be, and they could always tell when there was killing intent cast their way through the glares of those who hated them.

  There were two obvious options… ‘Attack now. Or attack later.’

  ‘I haven’t done it this way in a while… but it will cause fewer problems.’ Cenna expelled a small, tightly held breath. Flash and fun were his preferences, it was part of why he loved his spear. It allowed for such a wide range of performative maneuvers as well as having all manner of practical applications.

  But…

  ‘Stealth has its advantages.’ And with that thought, he activated his martial arts and went to the roof of the building to lie down and wait. He pulled out a stick of sweetbark and slipped it into his mouth, chewing and suckling on the little stick, his ankles crossed and his hand underneath his head, he watched the sky and waited. ‘I’ll run out of this stuff soon. I probably don’t have enough to make it all the way through this assignment and back. Oh the things I must endure…’ He thought with exaggerated amusement as he bit off the end and drew the next untouched length further into his mouth.

  ‘I’ll need to stop by the Abelion Hills again and get more as soon as I get home… I wonder if she’ll get to Kami Miyako…’ His random thought turned to the whore he’d sent away with more money in her pocket than a minor lord might make in a year. ‘She was a pretty one…’ He huffed, ‘Brave too. Whore or not, you don’t see that very often.’

  His thoughts drifted like the puffy white clouds overhead, until a conversation caught his ear that brought his wandering mind back into focus.

  “Yessir, one gold coin. Just give it here… master Cerebrate. Give it here and they’re all yours, yes, for as long as you like.” The voice was simpering, pathetic, and full of greed. Cenna could practically hear the ingratiating bile on the tongue, knowing what was being sold, he felt utterly sick to his stomach.

  “Sure, sure, just take it and get out, Kartek. Do whatever it is you do with it.” Cerebrate replied. “As long as there’s a window this time.” Cerebrate answered and licked his lips.

  “Ah, yes of course, master Cerebrate but… if I may ask, sir… I did make sure you had one, but… why? This sort of thing… I don’t judge. But ah, surely discretion-”

  “Get out.” Cerebrate hissed. What he did not say, was the answer that echoed in his mind, ‘If they know and do nothing… they’re all as vile as me…’

  While he could think it, he could not bring himself to say it. He licked his lips in anticipation, and brushed past the scrawny flesh dealer, knocking him against a wall as he strode upstairs.

  ‘It looks like it’s time.’ Cenna thought as he heard the conversation end, ‘It’s these ‘lambs’ lucky day. If they’d picked a room without a window, I’d have never have seen a thing.’ He closed his fingers together and thrust it into the thatched top, ripping through the wooden board beneath and as silently as he could, breaking through the flat portion. Down below, he could hear various people speaking, counting the adult voices… ’Six total, not as many as I thought, but then again, I suppose even criminals look down on these types…’

  One swift motion was all it took. His spear came down through the broken gap and pierced the skull of the man walking below, and before the body could fall, Cenna was inside the building.

  Cenna had killed humans before, cultists of Zuranon, vampires, who despite their classification, he could not help but still see as human, the occasional brigand who developed heroic level skills and needed a specialist to eliminate them, and had he been available, Clementine would have been his to bring down.

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  But with many humans, even those who were vampiric in nature, he wondered about them, whether they were really good or bad… not all, but many.

  On this occasion? There was no question. His ears caught the noise of weeping small ones in a distant room. ‘He is an adamantite adventurer, even if I’m going to catch him with his pants down, who knows whether he’ll be trouble? It also doesn’t sound like he’s started yet. I have time.’ Cenna let the body slump to the floor, easing it down with the gentleness a mother would use on a sleeping child, then yanked his spear free.

  From room to room he walked, his spear would thrust with greater deadliness and precision than any of theirs, the point piercing their skulls and emerging again out their mouths… and he would in turn lower them to the ground as if afraid he might awaken them.

  There was only one amiss. The ones who turned from living to dead were larger, stronger looking, they lacked the sorts of hands you typically found on those who kept the books and counted coins. Their bald heads were all shaved rather than naturally so, suggesting some kind of order or uniform.

  And Cenna was forced to cast a regretful eye toward the steps. ‘I can’t very well wait for him… I suppose this will have to do. But if I should ever hear his voice again…’ He made the private vow, then headed down the hall toward the door where the weeping young could be heard.

  There was no more need to disguise his footsteps, no one was left to oppose him after all. And so Cenna strode to the thin wooden door, grabbed the handle and pressed the latch down to open the catch.

  Cenna opened the door, a morbid curiosity for what he would find was buried in the back of his mind, at the forefront of it however, was his casual professionalism. He saw a cluster of children in the dirty, ragged remnants of a peasant’s clothing, not one of them over the age of eleven, their feet were hardy looking, tough, far different from the rest of their bodies, as if they’d walked a very long way.

  The policy of the Slane Theocracy came back to the black-haired spearmen, spoken in Dominic’s own words. ‘We’ll ask for some retired volunteers to go assist them. Other than that, we have enough to do for ourselves…’ What Dominic meant was not lost on him, the war with the elves had gone on for over a hundred years already, with no sign of a quick end coming. However, it also wasn’t lost to the Black Scripture captain that it had been prolonged on purpose. ‘As long as it continues, dealers in weapons have a profit, and the poor can be put to use dying on the front lines.’ Those were Raymond’s words, expressed by Zesshi speaking of one of his more frustrated moments.

  But looking at the dirty, terrified faces of children who had walked who knew how far only to be rented as playthings of flesh to a lecher, the questions about the course of their war and how to treat with their neighbors was no longer so sterile and academic.

  ‘You always were somewhat lazy, Cenna.’ He rebuked himself as the client of the house of torment went for his sword.

  “Do you have any idea who you’re interrupting?!” Cerebrate snarled as he raised the blade toward the spearwielder. ‘Is he insane?! Someone should have told him who I am already!’

  “No. No idea.” Cenna said and cocked his head, “Should I?”

  Cerebrate hesitated, “Nobody downstairs told you?”

  “No.” Cenna answered truthfully.

  “My name is Cerebrate, the Fierce Flash. And I paid a full gold for the feast of lambs. I don’t like my meal being interrupted.” The knight answered and tilted his head toward the door, inviting the interloper to leave, as any sane person would when confronted with a person of unrivaled strength.

  Cenna cocked his head, “I saw-” he pointed toward one of the smaller girls, who shrank farther into the corner of the room, her lower lip quivering already, “that one, in the window. I figured that since this is a brothel, you were going to use that,” he pointed toward the dangling rod Cerebrate had yet to cover up, “not actually eat them.”

  ‘Is he… like me? Just wanting a taste…?’ Cerebrate wondered, but his estimation of the spearman’s intelligence was rapidly declining, and that of course, had its own uses… ‘Someone ‘simple’ with the same preferences…’ The more he thought about it, the more useful the spearman seemed he might be.

  ‘I suppose I need to clarify that at least.’ He rolled his eyes. “I’m not a cannibal, it’s… you know, piercing, stabbing, thrusting, penetrating, using this on those…”

  Cenna nodded gravely, “So you’re saying penetration feels good?”

  “Very.” Cerebrate emphasized. ‘And I really… really need to feel better…’

  “Can I try it?” Cenna asked, he put a wide eyed, stupid expression on his face.

  Cerebrate had a sort of a lordly feeling right in that moment, as if he were a king granting a boon to some useful peasant. ‘It might win his loyalty at least… maybe he never got the chance to indulge himself…’

  “Go on. Pick one.” Cerebrate said with a lordly smile and looking down his nose, “Any one in this room.”

  He’d barely finished waving his hand out at the bounty for which he’d paid, when the spearhead ripped through his abdomen and came out his back. Cerebrate’s mouth dropped open as he found that the spearman closed the gap faster than his eye could see, and the dark-haired man’s simple, stupid expression was twisted with disgust and loathing. Had Cerebrate not been an adamantite ranked knight, he might have fallen, as it was, he lost grip on his sword which clattered to the ground, and then his shaking hands closed around the pole of the spear.

  He was staring in disbelief at Cenna’s face only inches away, and Cenna whispered, “You’re right… penetration, thrusting, piercing… it’s never felt as good as this.”

  He twisted the spear and the tiny barbs in his legendary weapon ripped open intestines, colon, and stomach all in one smooth motion. Hot, wet blood tumbled free to stain the floor as small voices let out cries of alarm. A few of their number stared with blank disbelief as they saw the scene unfold… but even they were nothing compared to the disbelief on Cerebrate’s own face.

  “Who- Who are you… how…?” Cerebrate lost the ability to speak as the spear lowered and the knight slipped back along the edge of the weapon, ripping open new wounds and making the ones he already had, worse.

  “No one of consequence. Just a fool.” Cenna answered and gave one firm swipe of his spear to cast the blood across the wooden surface of the room.

  Cerebrate proved his strength by remaining alive, writhing and clutching at his horrific rending wounds, screaming in pain as it began to hit him like a boulder striking city walls.

  “You did this to yourself, I’m sure you know.” Cenna said as he picked up Cerebrate’s pants and began wiping the blood off of himself. “If you were in any other building, I’m sure screams of pain would be noticed. But I guess that’s pretty common here.” He said and jammed the leg of Cerebrate’s pants into the wounded man’s mouth.

  “Maybe it was just bad luck for you, or good luck for them, but either way, this is the end for you. I’ve actually heard of you, too.” Cenna said with casual dismissal as he went to stand over the one-time hero. “I suppose that makes this a fitting end… and some would say I should just leave you to bleed out, but I’d really like to be sure. Always confirm the kill. That’s what Raymond taught me.” He said and taking up Cerebrate’s own sword, while the wounded man shook his head back and forth, mouthing some muffled non-words through his improvised gag, he gave it one good swing.

  The head was separated from the body, and eyes slowly closed while the body spasmed in its death rattle.

  When it was over and done, the eldest looking of the lot, a tall, spindly looking boy, stepped in front of the others. “Ah… sir… that mean we’re yours now?”

  There was only one thing for Cenna to say. He shrunk his spear, stored it at his side, and admitted while scratching the back of his head, “I never think that far ahead.”

  “So… what do we do…?” The boy asked, darting his gaze from the corpse to Cenna.

  Cenna reached into his pouch and drew out a handful of gold coins, the liberated lambs sucked in their breath when looking at the wealth he held out, and waited. “Take these. Hire a wagon and a guide. Go to the Slane Theocracy capital, Kami Miyako. When you reach there…” He paused, ‘I can’t burden Raymond too much… and I hate to burden my own staff but…’

  He settled on a decision. “When you reach Kami Miyako, find the Tachoni estate, knock in this pattern.” He said and made a sequence of five knocks, followed by a pause, then two more. “A blonde elf woman will answer the door, tell her I sent you, and that I said to look after you until I returned home. But remember, you must use that sequence, or she will not let you in. Show me you know it.”

  Six hands repeated the pattern, then did it again several more times.

  “Good. I’ll… figure something out when I get back. And,” he rolled his eyes, ‘He’s bound to find out.’ Cenna acknowledged privately, “if a middle aged man comes to the house, a man named Raymond, you can tell him everything.”

  It was all a blur after that, Cenna barely remembered having the children sequester themselves on the lower floor while he created some improvised pikes and set them up in various rooms with heads mounted in place for shock value. It was arguably trivial, but if word reached the Draconic Kingdom’s capital, odds were some interest in the corruption on the border would be merited. Particularly if one of those found dead was a former hero.

  ‘I might have some uncomfortable questions to answer later, but… it’s good to be a Godkin, nobody can really afford to do without me.’ And that, together with the more or less satisfying ending to the days events, left him feeling very good, all the way until he returned to his room at the inn that night, wondering idly if he would ever see the blonde prostitute again, or if she would just snatch up a farm somewhere to settle down. ‘Mighty brave, that one… mighty brave.’ He thought, yawned, and finally fell asleep in his bed.