Chapter 19: Local Delicacies

  The atmosphere, thoroughly ruined by the announcement of the thirteenth heir of the ruler of hell, miraculously returned to normal when it was not followed by any further, equally joyous harbingers of the apocalypse.

  As soon as Nikodem Rudnicki's fertile lands disappeared over the horizon, Justinian could once again focus on his sole purpose—revenge. Weeks of murderous training had paid off not only in the power of his punches but also in his physique. The boy, whether he liked it or not, had gained muscle in places that Miss Borowiak clearly appreciated, casting him glances with the temperature of a small bonfire. However, they were in company, so for now, that would have to suffice.

  "Franciscus, what does it actually mean that you want to become a respected devil?" Aldona finally asked, intrigued by the relative of the famous poet de Deviliare.

  The young devil looked at her with a solemnity worthy of a tax official.

  "It means that I would like to become a devil whom other devils hold in high regard," he replied with impeccable politeness.

  Aldona rolled her eyes so vigorously that Justinian worried she might have strained a muscle. He merely shrugged. He had long abandoned the illusion of having a casual chat with Franciscus. Nevertheless, he had to admit—the boy's notes were priceless. They were a cool, objective record of events, perfect for contemplating his progress in cultivation.

  "Do you think Maleficius will ultimately agree to this pilgrimage?" Justinian asked, feeling partly responsible for the stiff atmosphere.

  Aldona eagerly picked up the topic.

  "I don't think he has a choice. What kind of voivode would Boruta be if someone dictated terms to him in his own backyard?"

  "Is it that important?" the human wondered. He understood that Boruta was the administrator of the entire dimension, but to challenge his authority?

  An awkward silence answered him, finally broken by the noblewoman.

  "Justinian, our most important law is strength. If the voivode cannot enforce it... then perhaps it's time to think about a new voivode," she said, a hint of sadness in her tone.

  This did not escape Justinian's notice. He thought more and more about how very... human his devilish companion was. As he mused, he didn't notice that the pipe from Rudnicki, which he wore at his side, trembled slightly at Aldona's words.

  "Boruta had it quiet for a long time because nobody cared about this second-to-last of the hells," Franciscus interjected. "The appearance of Maleficius a few months ago was a shock to him."

  "And who is this Maleficius anyway?" Justinian asked.

  "Who can say?" the twelve-year-old shrugged. "One day he just appeared. What's important is that he killed Rokita, who was considered Boruta's certain successor. He shocked the entire dimension, and now no one dares to challenge him."

  Justinian's eyes widened.

  "He just killed the previous ruler of the mountain? And nobody did anything about it?!"

  The young noblewoman looked at him with understanding. The young man's face darkened at these words, and he was about to express his displeasure.

  "Where is the jus—" he cut himself off abruptly, realizing what he was saying and seeing the panic on his companions' faces.

  Unfortunately, it was too late. Although he hadn't even finished the forbidden word, the sky reacted with the fury of an offended deity. In a split second, it was covered with navy-blue clouds, and right next to them, a bolt of lightning struck with a deafening crash!

  Aldona screamed. Franciscus, for the first time in their acquaintance, wore an expression far from stoic calm. Only Justinian stood stunned, staring at the scorched earth. Fortunately, it ended with a single strike, but the look Aldona gave him clearly suggested they might not be so lucky next time.

  Continuing their journey to Redlandia, the trio had to cross a harsh mountain pass. The atmosphere here was much worse than before. Besides the hardships of the journey, they could sometimes hear mysterious whispers that were immediately scattered by the wind.

  "Rudnicki said that if it weren't for these damned mountains, Redlandia wouldn't have a democracy," Justinian stated.

  Franciscus nodded. "That is an understandable conclusion. For thousands of years, Redlandia was isolated from the rest of the dimension by a mountain range."

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "So what changed?"

  "Nature itself," Aldona spoke up. "For thousands of years, a tributary of the Vistula, one of the dimension's major rivers, carved through the rocks and finally opened up the miraculously isolated world."

  The young man guessed where this story was heading, and he didn't like it. It reminded him of the history of the continents in his own world.

  "Did they..."

  Seeing his somber expression, the noblewoman laughed.

  "Nothing happened to them. The protection of Boruta, who didn't want the nobility to get even more out of hand, ensured that no one could think of attacking them."

  'That would explain Rudnicki's disgruntled face from earlier...' Justinian sighed inwardly.

  Traveling through the pass and climbing thousands of meters above the plains, he had to admit that the harsh nature of the 66th hell was truly impressive. The wild land was strangely silent, reminding him of a key difference between this world and his own - many of the animals he knew did not exist in hell, like for example wolves. While there were many strange aspects to such experience, there was no doubt that he had never seen more beautiful, natural places.

  At one point, as dusk was approaching and they were crossing an old wooden bridge, his attention was drawn to something he saw far below, in the gorge they were passing over.

  'Am I just imagining things?' he frowned.

  For there, in a dark corner of a rock shelf, he saw what looked like... ruins?

  A huge cavern gaped from one of the rocks, surrounded by numerous carvings that looked deliberate rather than the work of the wind.

  He wanted to get a closer look when he felt Aldona's hand on his shoulder.

  The young noblewoman, with a complicated expression, shook her head, clearly suggesting he stop staring. Only when they had moved away from the spot did she explain what it was all about.

  "There are certain places in our dimension it's better not to delve into."

  Justinian looked at her, surprised.

  "Ancient monasteries are among them," she stated.

  "Ancient monasteries?"

  The she-devil nodded.

  "They are terrifying places, from before the time of the King of Names and Symbols. It's said that beings live there so powerful that even the Ruler of Hell avoided fighting them."

  Her words made the area suddenly feel cold. The wind seemed to become gustier, and in the distance, the half-heard whispers started up again.

  "Let's go," she said, her expression not entirely calm.

  Neither of them noticed the dark, stormy clouds slowly but surely approaching them on the horizon. The boy himself didn't notice how the pipe he had received as a gift was stealing more and more of his energy each day.

  After dark, they made camp. Justinian, wanting to create a good atmosphere, showed off his wilderness survival skills, which Aldona acknowledged with cries full of admiration. Franciscus, though outwardly indifferent, dedicated an entire page in his notebook to an "Analysis of human camping techniques in field conditions."

  The mood was spoiled only by the clouds, which had finally caught up with them and showed no intention of leaving.

  'At least the food is excellent,' Justinian consoled himself.

  Borowiak, being a provident father, had equipped his daughter with a battery of jars filled with noble delicacies, the weight of which was now mainly felt by the young man's spine. However, to his own embarrassment, he didn't complain, because he had quite taken a liking to hell's cuisine.

  "Delicious!" he savored with a full mouth, devouring another dish.

  Aldona blushed a little, handing him another jar. "I made these dumplings myself..."

  Finally, his enthusiasm focused on the specialty that had charmed him the most. It was creamy, rich, and absolutely unidentifiable.

  "And this? What is this?" he asked, pointing at the jar.

  The she-devil hesitated, and her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. She was clearly debating whether she should say it, but seeing his pleading gaze, she capitulated.

  "Pork brains..."

  A sudden silence fell over the camp, broken only by the nervous scratching of Franciscus's pen. Justinian's face went through a whole spectrum of colors, from white, through green, to purple. A moment later, the boy jumped up and disappeared into the bushes to return to hell what was hell's.

  When Justinian had moved a safe distance away, Aldona sighed, staring into the fire.

  "And what do you think about all this, Franciscus? About Maleficius and... what Justinian said?"

  "Is this not the essence of our customs? The stronger replaces the weaker?" he replied, not looking up from his notes. After a moment, however, he added, "I do notice a certain inconsistency. Justinian, while pursuing goals and using methods our customs despise... is doing surprisingly well in the 66th hell."

  Aldona smiled, though the beauty of her smile was marred by the clouds that began to circle the camp in an increasingly ominous manner.

  Meanwhile, Justinian, emerging from the bushes, made a solemn vow to himself that he would never again eat anything without first knowing the full list of ingredients. The mere thought of the taste of pork brains brought a new wave of nausea to his throat.

  As he returned to camp with his head down, he heard a growing roar. He looked up and froze. An unnatural, condensed storm had broken out around their small encampment. The wind howled, and lightning struck the ground from all sides, creating a cage around the terrified Aldona and Franciscus. It looked as if the sky had decided to unleash all its fury on this one spot.

  The hair on Franciscus's arm stood on end. Aldona looked at Justinian, pure terror in her eyes.

  The scene of Mr. Rafalski's death flashed before the boy's eyes. Without thinking, he broke into a run, trying to force his way into the heart of the storm. To no avail. In desperation, he began to shout, to call for justice, anything to draw the element's fury upon himself. It was no use. The clouds flashed with a blinding light, preparing for the final blow.

  "Where is the justice in this damned world?!" he roared in helpless rage.

  At that very moment, a split second before the lightning struck, he heard a calm, melodic voice:

  "Justice is an inherent feature of this world..."

  Justinian opened his eyes. His companions were alive. The lightning had not reached its target. Above them floated a veil of dense, aromatic smoke, which was emanating from his pipe. The smoke swirled and materialized into the figure of a man in tattered priestly robes. Although the strike had cost him an ear and part of his nose, his posture was majestic, and his intelligent gaze was reminiscent of the greatest thinkers.

  "...and everything in this world exists for the sake of justice," the apparition finished, ignoring the storm raging around them.