Chapter 4

Feast

Bastet had only been fed catfish until now, so he did not expect that the feast would offer anything but that in an abundant quantity. He could understand the limited menu – it required little effort to run lightning through the river and scoop everything that floated up. There were never any spices to mask the muddy flavor. He thought back on the battle, and how easily the city wall had snapped in half – it crumbled with such ease that it was obvious it wasn’t built to withstand such attacks. This abandoned city was a relic from a time when men needed ladders to scale walls, and from when such walls provided relative safety within them. If Wesians had been using the resources that were left behind in this town, it would be a surprise if they still haven’t run out of their spice reserves, he thought.

He conveyed these thoughts to Kreil, who concurred, commenting that what now passed as a feast would have been a poor man's meal a few generations ago. Kreil said that the famine started not long after the Maker left the world, and that the food shortage has only been getting worse. The absence of a divine juror only served to make the depraved more depraved, so it was inevitable that the new age would begin with more bloodshed than the previous one. But the magnitude of this change was unfathomable at the time. It is because no one could expect that the very laws of the world would give way to chaos without a God to uphold them. The days of the purple sun signified the blight of more and more land. Entire peninsulas disappeared, mountain ranges inverted into the ground, and seas turned into a starry abyss – the very borders of the world were shrinking. Monsters lurked about, and at nights when the moon would kiss the earth, entire civilizations would cross over the veil and enter the continent of Aetrea. As more and more land got lost to corruption and new adversaries emerged through the purple sun, the kingdoms of Aetrea entered into a perpetual state of war over what habitable land remained. And so, after many years, there were fewer mouths to feed but also far less food to do so. Kreil said that old books spoke of many fruits whose flavor no one knew today.

Bastet said he knew about the dangers of the purple sun, and not to stand in its light. His father warned him many times when he was a kid that monsters would take him if he wandered too far into the woods, and he remarked that he was scared enough to never want to test these words. But that was all he knew, that blighted land was inhabited by monsters. He found it hard to believe that the very world was falling apart. With an ocean to the north and east, and the Uzai mountain range wrapping around the forest to the west, the Briskwood village was very isolated. One time when a merchant came to trade his goods, he told them that the kingdom that Briskwood belonged to had fallen over three years ago – nobody bothered to send an envoy.

The two of them did not know where in the city the feast would be held, but they followed the sound of commotion that just kept getting louder and louder, and it was not long until they had to raise their voices to be able to hear each other. Many rows of long birch tables were placed concentrically around a warm bonfire. There were at least a dozen times more people here than there were for the battle, Bastet thought. Are these the reinforcements? The festive hubbub drowned out the sound of some musical instrument that he could not recognize. The sight of crisply roasted boar and the thick smell of wine made Kreil’s mouth water. He quickly pulled himself closer and dug in, not minding his manners.

Bastet sat next to him. He did not understand the merry atmosphere since Kreil told him that all Wesians were recruited in the same cruel way. Surviving a mortal wound was indicative of a strong life force, so most of the people here had such an injury inflicted to them, and those who survived were worth being recruited. After that, they were all tortured for months, yet still, Bastet could see no scorn in their eyes – they laughed, drank, and mingled. It must be hard to hold in contempt the side that you were on, to hate the ones whose victory you were fighting for. Or could it be that those consumed by such feelings never lived long? Bastet bit his lip. He would not let go of his misery and his anger. These feelings might hinder him in fighting for Wesia, but the threads holding you back were also the ones preventing your fall. As long as he held onto the fire that burned within him, he would never forget his duty towards his family.

Bastet perked up his ears and overheard a conversation. – “Her ass is way too fat, Nick. If I slapped it, I could sail on the wave.”

-“That only makes it better!” – Nick shook his head with a serious expression – “One of these days Riley you’ll have your balls poked open by a stray bone!”

Bastet glanced in their direction and immediately recognized one of the men. The bald man with the thick eyebrows was the one who saved Kreil and him during the battle. When Gerald searched through his memory, Bastet got a chance to get a better look at the man’s face, so he was sure. He nudged Kreil to get his attention and addressed the two men – “You really helped us out there! We’d be dead meat if it weren’t for you!”

Nick gave out a hearty laugh – “Always happy to help! You two are newcomers? Gotta get that hair under control” – he turned around and yelled without waiting for Bastet’s response – “Hey Riley! Need help with hair!”

-“N-No need!” – Bastet stuttered while looking at Nick’s bald head, but Nick just laughed and said that there was nothing to worry about, and not to get scared. They introduced themselves, and then Riley immediately conjured flames that burned Bastet’s beard off, and shortened the ends of his hair. It didn’t hurt at all.

-“Much better now ain’t it? You look ten years younger!” – Riley admired his work, and with a mouth full of food Kreil asked if he could get a haircut too, though he wanted to keep the beard.

-“Quite a feast they’ve prepared here!” – Bastet clasped his hands as he thanked the man.

-“Feast?” – Riley creased his brow and looked towards the bonfire – “But the feast still hasn’t started yet?”

-“I suppose they’ll find out soon enough?” – Nick scratched the back of his head as he turned to Bastet – “But yes, the food is excellent. Three of the seven dukes are here so we prepared our best. Even Lord Valac is coming tomorrow.”

-“It’s a long way from Arcadia to here.” – Kreil mumbled between mouthfuls – "Why is Valac coming?”

-“You two are quite lucky” – Riley twisted his lips – “Usually you’d have to march to Arcadia, but it seems that Lord Valac won’t risk moving Illias now that she’s finally safe. He’s personally coming to order the code of conduct.”

-“Who is Illias?” – Kreil tilted his head.

-“Hell if I know!” – Riley laughed – “Should be the girl that the Eskanel just tried to kill. But you shouldn’t get used to asking questions, coz you won’t be getting many answers. Only rumors.”

-“They don’t tell us jack because we have to obey them all the same.” – Nick sighed – “I’ve been fighting for three bloody years, and I still don’t know nothin’ about this war!”

-“Ain’t it weird that we’re fighting at a time we should all be trying to rhyme some poems?” – Riley leaned forward – “It’s like they’re distracting us. Can’t make any art when we’re at each other’s throats, so we won't get a chance at becoming gods. May the best artist win!” – he said mockingly, spitting on the ground.

-“There’s quite a funny theory on that subject” – Kreil filled his cup with more wine – “The greatest artist will indeed win, but with the Maker gone, there are no minds left to judge greatness, except for our own. Since there is no beauty outside the eye of a beholder, what else must you do to monopolize beauty, other than blind the eyes that see it elsewhere? Suddenly a war makes a bit more sense!”

-“Ooh, I like that!” – Nick wagged his index finger – “Has a nice ring to it!”

-“Well…” – it seemed that Riley was about to protest, but all of a sudden, the hubbub lulled into silence.

-“Did Valac arrive?” – Bastet asked to which Riley scoffed – “No. But looks like the feast is starting.”

Gerald’s small frame soon appeared in front of the bonfire – “Apologies for the wait. We decided to add a stubborn soldier or two as dessert!”

-“Gerald you fucker, you delayed it so you wouldn’t miss it!” – A shout resounded from somewhere in the crowd, which made Reed, who stood behind Gregory, muffle a laugh with a hand over his mouth.

The bonfire suddenly blazed up as the wood crackled much louder than before. Bastet's skin was dyed red as the flame became grander and grander. His eyes were drying up as the heat pinched his cheeks. A few Wesians tossed some bodies into the fire, and smell of burnt flesh and hair assaulted his nose. – “The Wesians burn the dead?”

-“No.” – Nick pinched his nose – “Theses ones are alive. Just beaten unconscious to make it easier.” – Nick explained that this was a common Wesian ritual. When a being dies, its remaining life force quickly dissipates and returns to nature. But those who were wounded enough to have their life force always leaking were able to absorb it. The door leading outside and the door leading inside was the very same door – just breathing in the repugnant smoke would replenish their life.

Kreil stood up, seemingly disgusted by the smell, and said that he would be back shortly. Bastet’s head immediately cleared up. He had his doubts about Kreil, the mysterious man who was missing his memories, and who loved his daughter enough to endure the worst of tortures. And if he was willing to do as much merely to see her again, how much more would he be willing to give up in order to save her from her fate? If such an opportunity were to arise, Bastet thought, he would be willing to do anything. And after tomorrow, the code of conduct would bind him, making chances of that opportunity occurring even slimmer. If something were to happen, Bastet thought, it would have to be tonight. With quiet steps he followed after Kreil.