Mhaieiyu

Arc 2, Chapter 17

Victus' Favourite Child

Six hours had passed since the onslaught on the core city of the Hub had taken place. Several reports issued to the public provided recommendations to stay out of sight and out of light as that’s where the nocturnal beasts would hunt first. A good few thousand civilian casualties became the newest country-wide tragedy, and already, knowingly or not, countless families had been damaged irreparably. The quadrupedal monsters loomed the streets to wreak their mayhem; destroying vehicles, ruining roads, shattering glass and tarnishing monuments. These polymorphic Crimsoneers belonged to a subset of those known as ‘Lambs’; which is to say, they lacked the cognizance and self-preservation behaviours of even animals, obeying the orders of their ‘Shepherds’ without question and performing at random degrees of success. These felines in particular, Crawlers, were of weak tissue and fragile bone but bared wicked, sludge-lathered teeth that could corrode the flesh of their Celestial blood counterparts. One alone might threaten few, but a horde of hundreds—or worse, thousands—was a different matter altogether. Their speed and restlessness combined with their numbers could theoretically bring about the end of civilisation even as vast as this.

In the midst of the chaos that reigned unchecked not far beyond these concrete walls, Emris’ eyes pried open after hours of snoring like a content bear. His lazy orbs rolled to the left and then to the right, his vision blurred and his body feeling extra heavy as he lay sprawled awkwardly on the armchair.

Once his mind started to wake up, he recognised two figures near him. Firstly and most important to him, his rabbit ‘junior’, who laid tucked into herself on the couch opposite him. On the chair off to the side, the scrawny thirty-something-year-old man who took what he assumed to be the father’s role in this micro family.

Turning his head a smidge towards him, Emris’ raspy sleep voice called, “Mornin’.”

“Evening,” he quickly corrected, leafing through some kind of book.

“Mind givin’ an older some context?”

The man sighed and closed said book, giving him a sharp look. “The Lypin—Holly—dragged you in here when all went to the crisper. You’ve been sleeping soundly ever since.”

“That adds up,” Emris said, dragging a palm over his head. “Did ye give the lass a lookover? Do ye have a doctor here?”

“My wife dropped out due to financial reasons, but she studied enough medicine to treat her.”

Emris furrowed a brow, letting his neck recline. “A drop-out, huh…?”

“I’d suggest you don’t doubt her abilities in front of her.”

“Aye, fair,” the Brig chuckled.

Tapping his fingers on the leather bind of the book, the younger man said, “I’ve been told you’re the Guardian.”

“I wish I could say no to ye.”

“You’re also supposed to be a Syndie, am I correct?”

“Aye. Ye’re speakin’ to a Brigadier, in fact.”

The man breathed deeply, letting his head drop back as well. “Is that so…”

“Hard to believe?” Emris said.

“It’s hard to believe, yes,” the father said. “Here we are, stuck in this goddess-forsaken place with those mongrels gnawing on heads outside and when the Guardian comes around, we’re the ones caring for him. Just our luck, that,” he slipped with a spill of poison.

Emris ground his molars and rolled his eyes. “Tough luck. Legends ain’t always what they’re cracked to be. I’m no deity. I can just take a bullet every once in a while.”

The father clicked his tongue. “Under normal circumstances, I’d call you a liar, but the recovery rate of your damages is proof enough. Holly here even insisted not to waste supplies treating you.”

“She said that, did she? Damn, some lass’ gotten icy. What happened to that lil’ doe I took under wing, ah?” Emris groaned, looking off to the ceiling.

Clearing his throat, the husband added, “Oh, and my son, young Elliot. He has a few questions for you. He’s always been a curious boy; infatuated with Guardians as of late. I’ll try to keep him from pestering you for too long, but at least answer some of his ponderings.”

The Guardian bit his lip and grinned. He was never the type to take orders. Still, he swallowed his pride. “ ‘Course. Always happy to play the role of the old-ass man givin’ lectures of the times of yesteryear.”

“Very dramatic,” the man said flatly with a tap of his shoes, opening his book again. “Your lunch is on the table. It’s gotten cold.”

“Don’t have a microwave?” Emris jested, flashing the father a grin he wouldn’t care to see.

“You’re lucky you’re getting a bite.”

“Real hospitable to yer Guardian…” Emris complained lowly, standing up with a back scratch to reach his uncomfortably cooled down meal. After having sunk his jaws into human flesh once again in his life, he couldn’t be too picky. “Yer son,” Emris said after grimacing at the first spoonful of soup, “why’s he interested in Guardians?”

“You’d best ask him. But not now. He’s sleeping with his mother.”

The veteran kept his gaze fixed on the soup. “Why aren’t ye with ‘em?”

“Somebody has to keep an eye on you two.”

“Ye don’t have to do that. Ain’t nothin’ worth stealin’ here, and neither of us are in the pits financially. Uh, no offence.”

The man hummed in disappointment. “Offence taken. And would you too leave your spouse and infant child at the mercy of two strangers?”

Emris’ muscles locked for a moment, his eyes narrowing and his grip on the utensils stiffening. “...Nay, not a fuckin’ chance.”

“Then keep your mouth closed while you chew.”

Emris glared at the lanky sod for a moment, but at no recognition whatsoever, he just turned back to the table with a grumble. The only sound that permeated the room for the next fifteen minutes was that of the spoon dabbing the soup and the sip of Emris’ lips. Every time he did sip, the father’s face muscles twitched in annoyance as he tried in vain to focus on that he read.

Once finished, Emris stood up and placed the bowl by the sink with a clink. “Did ye make this?”

“Yes. You’re welcome,” he said.

“I can tell. Guess the bitterness rubbed off, ah?” Emris said with a snarl, making the man’s blood turn cold for a minute before calming him with a chuckle. With nowhere to go, he sat down next to Holly’s curled up body, acting as a barrier between the man and her.

“Thank ye,” Emris said, closing his eyes and creaking the springs.

It took a moment, but the Guardian heard the man speak up again before he fell asleep. “My name is Wilhelm,” he said, “Try not to wake up until you have to.”

“Thank ye, Wil’elm the Charmin’,” Emris quipped with a snigger.

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

“I told you, you can’t be so crass with the infants,” the Cryptid caked in a snowy blanket reprimanded with an authority unbefitting one of her kind.

“Ack, ya think I walk about without knowin’ that! The snotnosed little brat was teasin’ me!” the voice of a child pretending to be an adult shouted back, slacking in aggressiveness in a way that felt unbecoming for his likeness.

Chloe thumped her front paw into the floor. “Then be the bigger boy and ignore it! Smile and wave, smile and wave! Like I told you, Mumble!”

“Pride! Fuckin’... Sh…” the scrawny Urchin hushed himself, remembering not to swear in a room full of children. Keeping his voice down, he whisper-shouted, “It’s Pride! Over an’ over I tell ya, it’s Pride! P-R-I-D…”

“Tokken!” Chloe exclaimed, removing herself from Mumble’s space to trot off and meet the older teen she had come to know too well.

Seeing him conflicted her emotions a tad. On one hand, she was glad to see him well after a good period of unconsciousness, but on the other, his very existence felt dulling; a bummer of a living being. He could just as easily be the personification of Melancholy and she wouldn’t bat an eye. Nevertheless, concern overcame comfort, and she put on a smile as she ran right up to his heel. He did save her again. Two times now, was it?

Tokken had the minimum of courtesy to kneel down and give her worried head a gentle scrub, chuckling at her complaints of messed up fur.

“Hey, Chloe.” His voice was dry as sandpaper. “Were you waiting for me? I’m sorry.”

The oversized canine tilted her head, feeling a desire to delve on the matter but interrupted when an impish, fang-toothed adolescent flip-flopped up to him. “So ya’re finally awake, are ya, twink?” Mumble said condescendingly, brushing aside the ridiculous tuft of deep ginger hair that draped over the left side of his body like a mantle. “Guessin’ lyin’ in bed got ya bored enough to come and actually do work, ah?”

Tokken made an awkward expression denoting ignorance. “Twink? I’m doing alright. Body’s healing nicely.”

“Mind telling me why you look just so miserable right now?” Chloe pushed, giving his leg a tap.

The tallest of the bunch scratched his cheek. “Darn, do I look that bad? Guess bedhead’s more real than I originally suspected. I’ve had a think, too.”

Mumble crossed his arms and snarled. “A think? What money’s thinkin’ gonna earn, ah?”

“Thinking. Always thinking…” Chloe muttered, taking a sideways glance.

“That man, the one who attacked us during…” Tokken didn’t feel like finishing that sentence out of a fear of making Mumble uncomfortable. To his surprise, the kid barely sighed.

“Look, it sucks, but I got a weird understandin’ with, uh, dyin’ an’ all that. Don’t pity me.”

“It’s funny you say that,” the white-haired boy said, “I have a complicated relationship with it too. Anyway, could you two remind me of his name?”

“That puny freak? Right, right. His name was… Never… Nolt… Somethin’ with ‘N’?”

“Noire. Saintess…” Chloe said, exasperated.

“Ah, is that it? Well, this ‘Noire’ — apparently he and I are connected somehow,” Tokken said, taking a seat on one of the wheeled stretchers.

Chloe blinked. “You are? How did you figure that one out?”

The teen scratched his neck. “It’s hard to explain, but apparently, he knows my purpose. With the Jewel and all that.”

“The Jewel?” Mumble asked. “Had no idea a kid like ya would be carryin’ jewellery. That bastard robbed me a good steal.”

“You say ‘kid’ like I’m not clearly older than you. And no, my family always called it the ‘Jewel’, and everyone who knows the Tsukis says the same, but it’s actually this dagger… knife? Is there any difference? Either way, that’s the name given to this Drainer.”

Pulling out the perverse weapon could be no worse ill-advised in a sanctuary such as this. One cold look of the carver’s textures from an unwanted pair of curious eyes would be enough to stir a frenzy, especially after what this group had suffered, and the hands and tool that dealt it. Before Tokken could fully stick out the blade, Chloe jabbed her paw into his shin and smacked the thing away, sending it far enough for it to reposition back onto his belt; snug as if it had never left him.

“Ow…” Tokken whined, falling on a knee again as he clutched the weak portion of his leg bone.

“Tokken you numpty!” Chloe susurrated. “These people only just got back from one of those crazy Crimsons slaught— hurting them!”

Conversely, Mumble, who stood with a slack-jaw, stared up at the ceiling in bewilderment. "Ya cut me with a Red's shank?! S-Shit, am I gon' die?"

Tokken quickly shook his head, putting an unconscious hand on his shoulder which was quickly whipped away. “No, no. As far as I understand, it shouldn’t do anything to you. If anything, it should make me go crazy.” He turned to Chloe with an awkward chuckle. “You’re right, I lost track of where I was. I’m feeling a little queasy.”

“Oh shit, is that the uh… Jewel speakin’ to ya?” Mumble mumbled, trying his best not to look concerned with the prickly frown he gave.

“N-No, no… I mean— apparently it takes a while to go crazy. You’re the first person I remember using it on. You guys… You Urchins can be pretty scary when you want to. Especially you, Shark Teeth.”

“What kinda fuckin’ nickname is that, Pigeon Shit?!”

Tokken felt his lungs squeeze as he chuckled inwardly. “Pigeon Shit, huh?”

“It’s that damn wig of ya’s!” ‘Pride’ said.

“How is your cut, by the way?”

The younger crime lord rubbed his knuckles into his damaged cheek. “Stung like a papercut, but the scar’ll look good on me.”

“Tokken, are you sure he’s the only one you’ve hurt with that weapon?” Chloe said, cutting between their banter and pulling the Tsuki’s attention down to her. She had just managed to recall a very important event in their lives.

“Hm? I’m pretty sure, yeah. I’ve never really chosen fight over flight before,” Tokken said.

“What about in the Outskirts, the day that you found me?” Chloe said. “If I’m not mistaken, you plunged that Howler in the neb with it.”

“Damn, you’re right! But it was just a Howler, surely that wouldn’t…” Tokken tried to say, his eyes widening as he looked back at Chloe’s eyes, “...count”

The white-furred canine raised a brow and sighed. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just call my whole species stupid. Nevertheless, you need to be more careful from now on. If you keep using that Drainer too often, you might find your very mind to be broken into.”

Tokken frowned, giving a timid, unwilling nod. “Yes… I’ll have to be more mindful not to go looking for places where I might have to fight someone. Ironically, having you near me makes me more inclined to.”

“That’s aight,” Mumble said with a shrug of his shoulders. “If ya go apeshit I can always fetch my Sinners and turn ya into a rug.”

“Your… Sinners?” Chloe asked, confused and stifling a laugh at Tokken’s mortified look.

“My twin girls,” ‘Pride’ said with a fanged smirk, reaching for his pockets with a dry snigger.

“Let’s avoid that for the time being, please,” Tokken murmured under a breath. “Either way, we’re avoiding the subject. Noire knows me somehow — or perhaps it’s better to say he knows my family. Considering how enigmatic this nonsense has been made for me, and how it’s obvious the people who do know don’t seem to want me to, that… mass-murdering monster has turned out to be the only shine in my blackout past.”

The hunched munchkin untied the hoodie from his waist and draped it over his back, slotting his hands into the pockets without slipping his arms through the holes and producing a box and a matchstick. From the box he took out a ciggarette, and using the match he lit it, bringing the bum to his lips and taking a puff.

With a more relaxed mind, he exhaled a cloud of smoke and shot Tokken a disinterested scowl. “Ya’re wastin’ time starin’ behind ya.”

Chloe and Tokken exchanged a concerned look. The human spoke first.

“You know, smoking at your age is——”

“Drop it. Ain’t we all whiners these days. As if smokin’s any more dangerous than the shit I go through to make a few zeds or a marq,” ‘Pride’ intervened, shooting the two of them a cold stare with eyes they couldn’t look at too long.

“...But an addiction should burn through your earnings, correct?” Chloe added with a raised paw.

The brief wide-eyed expression the kid gave left the Howler feeling uncomfortable for a moment, but she refocused on Tokken and continued regardless.

“I’m not sure whether or not it’s my business to know what your past involves, but I do wish to know what you plan on doing next. I hope you aren’t wanting to glue to that man’s side. He may have taken care of us, but being near him was so unnerving I felt pressure in my ears,” Chloe admitted with a shake of her skin. “It’s not just his mannerisms or that wicked power of his. It’s this underlying feeling that every little word he said was a lie.”

This caught both boys’ attention.

“Hah? Fuck’d— Hell’d ya mean by that?” Mumble said, his acute teeth practically chewing his cig.

“There’s no point correcting yourself if you’ve already cussed…” the Howler grimaced, hopping up to the stretcher beside Tokken and clearing her throat. “The reason I say this is because, for the whole time I spoke to that man, I’ve had a constant nagging voice in the back of my head screaming for me to stay away. Not just from danger, but from the web of deception that was falling my way.” Turning to face the troubled teen, she said, “Tokken, I implore you to reconsider whatever that man told you about your past. My senses haven’t failed me once. I suppose the term ‘gut feeling’ is more common.”

Mumble nodded with closed eyes. “Hm, yeah, I’d say ya’ve to trust that sixth sense sorta deal. Ya just can’t fake that sort of thing. He gave me weird vibes, but now that ya mention it, he did seem to be forcin’ some o’ his words.”

The snow-coat Howler put a calming paw on Tokken’s thigh and kept her eyes locked firmly with his. “Could you please tell us what he told you?”

Looking back and forth from Chloe’s worried eyes to Mumble’s relaxed ones, the sole remaining Tsuki felt conflicted on whether he even had the authority to divulge the secrets of his life. The use behind the Jewel. The meaning of his survival. Was he entitled to speak? Noire did, and knew, for reasons Tokken didn’t understand. Could it really be a lie? Why target him specifically? What could one possibly gain from the penniless memory of a once-prosperous family?

In all truthfulness, the Tsuki name may as well be dead. Yes, a memory. And memories shouldn’t and wouldn’t have more power nor precede than his will.

With a twisting tongue and quivering lips, Tokken finally conceded, shuffling in his seat and finding the right words. Slowly, under threat of controversy, he just barely exhaled the words: “I… just have to kill the Guardian.”

Even still, he clung to the one purpose he had been given. Even if it was nonsense.

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

Emris got but a few winks of sleep, but when he awoke, the ambience was chilled and the little light around him had turned blue. A ticking clock was all that he heard aside from the soft snores of the Lypin and the breaths of Wilhelm, whose eyes had closed and book laid sprawled over his legs. Turning to face the furniture in front of him, the veteran inhaled deeply and then exhaled. This blissful quietness, even in the presence of closeby danger, felt so soothing to his old soul. His whole body could feel heavy and sink into his seat without worry. The springs beneath him creaked as he reached for the leather jacket that had been folded and placed on the coffee table. Poking about for the pockets, he withdrew three items.

A locket, first. He took the time to admire the curves and contours the old silver gave. Despite the coldness of the metal, the memories of this bequeathment which he had forever treasured more than the skin on his bones brought a warmth more notable than a fireplace.

The second, a knife tucked in its sheath. A fancy-looking thing he remembered taking off an Urchin he felled not too long ago as ‘compensation’, per se. He’d give it a use some day.

The third was that old, massive, gold-dipped pistol he had collected before he could even think. The left side of the barrel had been ungraciously etched with the name ‘Emris’; an assertion that this was his property alone.

Seeing the gun made him grimace, and he touched his forehead with it, feeling like a fool. Lost in anger once more, he had forgotten a weapon that, in the face of all Crimsoneers, couldn’t have been more useful against Meschae. Speaking of which, Holly’s little stunt left that man alive. Emris couldn’t bring himself to be upset, however. Not at her.

“Mister…?” a voice whispered.

Emris jolted his head up, feeling as though he had been awakened from a slumber he wasn’t in. Seeing the figure of the boy who ate little, Elliot, peering over the couches in concern, Emris had no way of hiding what he held in his hands.

Clearing his throat as quietly as he could, he tried his best to lower the weapon in a way that didn’t startle the child. “Uh, hey there, lil’ feller. Shouldn’t ye be sleepin’ with yer mother these hours o’ night?”

“It’s hard to sleep off the nerves,” Elliot said, twiddling his fingers and taking a cautious step closer to the Guardian.

Emris smiled, closing his eyes and reclining. He didn’t have to try to keep his voice quiet; whenever he spoke to children it became softer naturally. “I get what ye mean. Scares the light out of me.”

“It does?” the kid said, now standing by the table. “Even you?”

Emris chuckled almost soundlessly, pretending not to notice the stalker’s subtle approach. “Aye, aye. Even me.”

“You’re the Guardian, though. Aren’t you, like, unbeatable?”

“Nay, not that far. Heh, I’ll be honest, I think there’s plenty of Celestials that could hand me my ass on a platter.”

Elliot shuffled nearer, nervous but eager, wanting to see up close the entity whom he admired. “So, like, how strong are you, then?”

“Pretty damn strong,” Emris said with a cocky smirk. “But I’m nothin’ compared to my earliers. Most of ‘em, mind.”

“The other Guardians?”

“That’s right, lad.” He tapped the spot of the couch next to him which had been cleared of Holly’s feet. “Ye fancied learnin’ of us oldies, did ye? Mind takin’ a seat, then?”

The child looked stunned for a moment, but he took that offer in a heartbeat, doing his best to dash over and plop down without making too much noise.

After a brief check to see whether Holly had awoken, confirming she had only grumbled in her sleep, Emris nodded.

“Let’s start with a history lesson, aye? How much do ye know of our lot?” Emris asked, choosing not to pressure him with a stare and simply facing the roof in contemplation.

Elliot followed his gaze, recounting the many snippets of information his sparse classes and many book readings had taught him. With a stutter, he said, “Well, uhm, I learnt that the Guardians are the only people on the planet that can use shield magic to protect others… and there can only ever be one.”

“Ain’t always the case, but go on,” Emris said, closing his eyes.

“Wait, really?”

“Go on.”

“Oh, right, well… Guardians are born with the other Celestials, in the Great Pillar of Sylvves!” Elliot exclaimed, though remembered to hush his voice halfway.

“I think that’s right,” the Fifty-Seventh said.

“Okay, okay. And, uh, the Guardians don’t have wings or even halo like the Hallowed Celestials, because they don’t need them. And also, they were made by Victus as her favourite child to protect all of us from the Crimsoneers!”

Emris felt a sting in his heart at that last comment. Is that what the Guardian was meant to do? And here he was, exploiting his status for pity points, leeching off the leeched and dry.

Elliot continued. “Guardians are supposed to be the strongest ever, and they can’t die, too! I mean, until age takes its toll and all that…” The child stopped for a breath. “They’re heroes, and so are you, sir! Like Athena, the Guardian before… you, right?”

Emris could only nod in silence.

“Hah, awesome! Well, she was fantastic! Everyone loved her, and she was one of the top Guardians in history! But, you already know that, right sir?”

A brief silence took place shortly after as the Brig did his best to clear his mind of ill thoughts. This boy didn’t deserve the wrath of his bitterness. Before he could say a word, Elliot spoke up again.

“The weird thing is, I only know your name, Mister Emris. Why is that?”

“I’m no Athena,” Emris explained with sublime, albeit partly feigned serenity. “I guess I’m not in the books because I ain’t significant enough.”

“Oh…” Elliot said. “Well, I think that’s not fair! You’re a hero, sir, I’m sure of it! Only your likes can save, well, hundreds or even thousands or even tens or hundreds of thousands of people in your lifetime! There’s only been fifty-six… fifty-seven of them! We should know of them all!”

“Sometimes,” Emris started, giving the lad a pat on the back, “a gent or lass ain’t worth rememberin’. There’s incompetence; evil, too. Guardians ain’t always saints, mate. I’m sorry.”

“Oh… bad Guardians…? I know about some. Uhm, the thirteenth; the thirty-eighth?”

The Brig shook his head. “Thirty-eighth just didn’t give enough of a damn.”

“Are you one of the bad ones too, sir…?” Elliot asked meekly, glancing up at and away from him from time to time.

“I’m… Nay, but I’m weak, ye see," Emris said.

“Oh… Why did you apologise, then?”

Emris bit his lip and looked off toward the sleeping rabbit. “Not too sure yet. I don’t think I’m a bad man, but I haven’t figured out if I’m a good man, either. Most honest men don’t. I weren’t dealt a good deal of cards, is all.”

“What does that mean?” the boy asked with a curiosity most endearing.

The Guardian exhaled a silent snigger. “Elliot, right?”

“Y-Yes, that’s me! Did Poppa tell you, or did you just… know?” Elliot said, all too thrilled at having a Guardian call him by name.

“Guardians know all,” Emris teased, the sarcasm going right over the youngling’s head. “Want to know what the First and I have in common?”

“The First?! Kalazan?!” Elliot’s eyes practically sparkled, the bones of his palms tapping together to make a quiet clap.

Emris couldn’t contain the smile that lined his cheeks. “Mm, only the one.”

“What is it? What is it?”

“Ye see, the two of us weren’t born. We were made.”