OLD THREATS — RELATIONSHIPS OF NIMALIA

Chapter 6: Outsiders' Fate

“Ugh… what the… what the hell…?”

Gradually, Pierce’s eyes fluttered open, accompanied by a pained groan escaping his throat. A dull pounding filled his head, causing him to reflexively reach up and begin massaging his forehead. Damn… feels like I just spent a full night drinking…

“Pierce? You awake?”

“Ngh… Liask…?” Upon hearing a friendly voice, Pierce forced himself to sit up, an action that took surprisingly considerable effort. He squinted in pain, and also in an attempt to shield his eyes from any light — but as he did, he realized that his surroundings were already dark. And the ground beneath him felt rather… rough. Curious, he reached down to get a better feel of the material he was sitting on. What the… is this… hay?

“They sure got you good, huh?”

“Oh, shut it…” Pierce muttered, this time responding to Obra’s voice. He then made to continue responding, only to stop himself as he finally got a look at what little was present in his surroundings: a dark room, lit only by tiny slits in the wall that let in small rays of faint streetlight. The room itself seemed comfortably large, practically the size of a decent lounge — but the ground was entirely covered in a thick, hay-like material, and the room was partitioned into several smaller areas by series of vertical metal bars… not unlike a jail cell.

And Pierce was entirely trapped in one.

“What the fuck?!” he exclaimed incredulously, leaping to his feet to grab at the bars in anger. “The hell is this?!”

“The hell do you think this is?” Obra retorted. “We were captured.”

Pierce snapped his attention to his left, where he could see Liask and Obra in their own cells, separated by more metal bars. He then turned back to the bars in front of him, a furious scowl on his face. Without another word, he drew back his foot and then slammed it forward, hoping to smash the bars with a Mach-speed kick — only to painfully stub his toes instead, the bar unharmed.

“…There’s a CENT field,” Liask commented flatly while Pierce grabbed his foot and fell on his bottom on pain. “We can’t use our abilities in here…”

“Should be obvious,” Obra commented with a derisive snort. “Even Tresnon has CENT fields on the jails. How else are you gonna jail a Chaotic?”

“Why are we even jailed in the first place?” Pierce snapped, “where the hell are we, who captured us? And…” He stopped to sniff the air, and then grimaced at the smell of human refuse that filled the air. Quickly, he scanned his cell, and the ones adjacent — only to find no plumbing facilities in sight. “Oh, fucking disgusting!” he remarked, “what kind of fucking conditions are these? Even Tresnon has toilets!”

“Well… that’s Rokres, for you,” Liask lamented.

“I told you that Rokres don’t like outsiders,” Obra pointed out.

“Is that where we are? Inside the fort?” Pierce quickly moved over to one of the tiny slits in the outer wall of his cell, attempting to peer out into the world beyond — only to see nothing but a blank stone wall across a small street. “…Fuck.”

“Should’ve never listened to you…”

“Hey, don’t pin this on me,” Pierce countered as he glared at Obra, who was already glaring back. “You’re the one who exposed us!”

“I wasn’t the one runnin’ the invisibility,” Obra snapped back. “That was your friend. And the fact that he ain’t here is real convenient, I gotta say.”

Pierce quickly scanned the jail; sure enough, only himself, Liask, and Obra seemed to be present. Turning back to address Obra, Pierce replied, “if you’re trying to say that Conrad ditched us, or sold us out, then you couldn’t be more wrong. The guy’s way too lazy to have done either of those things.”

“Then why ain’t he here with us, huh?”

“I don’t fucking know, I was knocked out! Maybe he was able to save himself. The last thing I remember before waking up in here was a bright light and a loud sound, Conrad should be able to block both of those things.”

“So he did ditch us, then?”

“Conrad isn’t a flake, asshole. Just because he isn’t in here doesn’t mean he’s abandoned us. I bet he’s out there right now, looking for a way to spring us out of here!”

“And exactly how is he gonna do that, huh? Sounds like ‘effort’ to me, and if there’s one thing I know about your pal, ‘effort’ is the one thing he doesn’t like. Even you, yourself called him lazy!”

By that point, Pierce and Obra both had stood up to face each other as they argued, but before Pierce could offer a reply, the loud thunk of a lock unlocking echoed through the jail. A second later, a thick door at the far end of the jail swung open, allowing a view of the street outside bathed in nighttime darkness. A tall, broad-shouldered man standing in the doorway prevented Pierce from getting a good look outside, however, and the man soon stepped into the jail and closed the door behind him — ending the brief glance of the outside world. With a scowl, Pierce shifted his attention to the man himself, who wore a thick gray overcoat and had oily black mid-length curly hair that framed his ebony face and thick black beard. As he steadily approached the three occupied cells, his expression seemed dour and humorless, and his posture had him towering over even Pierce.

The man stopped just in front of the three occupied cells, his gaze slowly drifting across the three captives. Pierce and Obra both stepped forward to the front of their cells to glare back at him, while Liask remained sitting on the hay-covered floor.

“…Fuckin’ outsiders, huh,” the man eventually commented, his voice a deep, dull growl. “Younger ones, too… y’all Bleeders?”

“Hell no,” Obra snapped. “We came here to find Bleeders so we could kick their asses!”

The man glanced toward Obra, his head barely moving. “You sayin’ we got Bleeders ‘round here?”

“Uh… I dunno. Do you?”

The man stared silently at Obra for several seconds before grunting once. “…Y’all know why you’re in here?”

“No,” Pierce snapped. “We didn’t do anything wrong. We were way outside of your stupid city when you attacked us.”

Another couple seconds of silence followed as the man shifted his stoic gaze to Pierce, accompanied by Liask lightly facepalming.

“Pierce…” she muttered.

“What—? …Oh.” Sheepish realization washed over Pierce’s face as he realized his mistake: speaking in front of a Rokresian.

“…Don’t know what dirt-speakin’ language that is, but it sure ain’t Akian,” the man stated. “Who the hell are you? Where’d you come from?”

“Ignore that guy, he’s an asshole,” Obra insisted. “We’re Tresédian, though, through an’ through.”

“’Tresédian’ could mean anythin’,” the man countered, his gaze turning to Obra and Liask. “Now where are y’all from, and why were you sneakin’ up on Fort Rokres?”

“We weren’t… sneaking, we—“

“Explain why you were approachin’ under cover of invisibility, then.”

So they know that much, Pierce mused as he silently watched Obra flounder for an answer. Do they know Conrad was with us, then? Or do they think it was just the three of us…?

“We were just… bein’ careful,” Liask spoke up. “You know how dangerous the wastelands are. We just, uh… didn’t wanna draw Bleeder attention.”

“There you go, mentionin’ Bleeders again…” The man shook his head. “Look. Rokres ain’t the wastelands. We actually have our shit together, here, and that means that the Bleeders’ve been dealt with. We don’t sit and let them fester, or try stupidly to turn them, like I’ve heard the Sentry and Ghost of Light are doin’.”

Sentry? Does he mean Davídrius? Pierce mentally questioned, so even the people in Rokres use that title, huh? But what about the ‘Ghost of Light’, who’s that? Selind? What’s with all these epithets, anyways? Do Tresédians just really like this shit?

“Hey, don’t try an’ act like the Bleeders are our problem,” Obra snapped.

“Yeah, they’ve been gettin’ stronger, recently,” Liask added. “You’ve heard that, right?”

“I’m the one askin’ the questions, here, outsiders,” the man countered. “Now. There anyone else who came here with y’all?”

“Yes—“ Liask began to say.

“No!” Pierce quickly interjected.

Liask turned toward Pierce in surprise, while the man merely glanced his way. A brief moment of silence passed before the man looked back to Liask and said, “so there’s someone else, then?”

“Uh… n-no— I mean, I was about to say, ‘yes, we’re everyone’!” Liask stuttered out.

“…Uh huh,” the man responded, deadpan. He then glanced at Pierce again, but still addressed Liask as he asked, “so you can understand this man, here?”

“…Um…” Liask exchanged an uneasy glance with Pierce. “…I-I… w-well, I, uh, just learned his language, that’s all.”

“And you?” The man questioned to Obra.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“…Yeah, same,” Obra replied stiffly.

“You took the time to learn the language of an outsider you called an asshole?”

“…Y-… yeah.”

“Right.” The man took a slow, deep breath. “…Sounds like y’all need some more time before you decide to be cooperative.”

“Oh piss off,” Pierce snapped irately; he knew the man couldn’t understand him, but he couldn’t help voicing his welling frustration regardless. “We didn’t even do anything wrong! At the damn least, get us some fucking running water in here, you disgusting bastards!”

“You sure like the sound of your voice, huh, dirt-speaker?” the man replied. “Now, I’ll only warn you once: keep that mouth of yours shut. You’re already in way more trouble than your two friends here.”

“What—?!”

“But y’all ain’t goin’ anywhere anytime soon, either,” the man continued, ignoring Pierce as he turned toward Liask and Obra again. “Until you give me some real answers, you’re stayin’ in here to rot like the untrustworthy outsiders you are.”

“What? You can’t do that—!” Obra started, only to be fixed by the man’s stare.

“We damn well can,” he responded flatly, and then turned around to begin leaving the jail. “Y’all really didn’t know what y’all were gettin’ into, did ya?” he shouted over his shoulder as he opened the door, and then stopped for just a moment to glance back at the trio. “Well, you’re about to learn. Welcome to Rokres, outsiders. I hope you rot.”

And with that, he closed the door behind him, leaving Pierce, Liask, and Obra once again alone in the jail.

*

The darkness of night swamped the city of Fort Rokres, pierced only by street lighting. A soft breeze rolled through the surrounding grasslands and over the city walls, providing a comfortably cool atmosphere to the citizens wrapping up their day. Stonework pathways, bounded in some spots by loosely-kept grass, wound through sturdy buildings constructed of gray stone and wood, organized into neat rows and separated into discrete districts. The town’s overall architectural style appeared vaguely similar to that of medieval Europe, even featuring a tall, castle-like structure in the center. And, above all else, Fort Rokres felt far less dusty and far more busy than Compound Tresnon ever had.

However, any further details that distinguished Fort Rokres from Compound Tresnon were completely lost on the lone Earthian who wandered the Fort’s streets, his form hidden and muted from those around him as he warily watched the waning evening crowds from a back alley.

…At least there don’t seem to be any CENT fields within the city, Conrad mused as he looked down at his hand — or where it would be if he weren’t currently invisible. …Damn it all. How did I even get involved in all this…

In his tired irritation, Conrad’s mind briefly flashed back to the moment he was separated from Pierce, Liask, and Obra. Right when Obra was exposed and Liask warned the group about CENT fields, Conrad recalled seeing three tiny objects leap into the air around them — followed immediately by a bright flash of light and a loud sound. The instant that he perceived either, however, he had — completely by reflex, as far as he could tell — muted the sound to silence before it reached his ears, and taken advantage of his invisibility to let the light simply pass through his body, effectively blinding himself without actually overloading his vision. Conrad had long suspected that such a thing was possible, as turning himself completely invisible should mean that no light was able to reach his eyes; the fact that it did anyway was something that he chalked up to the oddity of Chaos Energy, and he had often wondered if he could use that knowledge to blind himself at will.

In the moment of the flashbang, however, Conrad wasn’t sure just how long the light and sound would last, or how much time he had to evade detection. He could feel Liask reeling — he was riding on her back, after all — but as she collapsed to the ground, he quickly jumped off of her and backed off before allowing himself to see again. Before him, Pierce, Liask, and Obra were all laid out on the ground, unconscious, and a truck was already on its way over from Fort Rokres’s front gates. Conrad knew that he wasn’t strong enough to drag all three downed Chaotics by himself, and he wasn’t sure how long it would take for them to come to, so he ultimately decided to wait for the truck to approach… and sneak onto its back as the guards loaded in Pierce, Liask, and Obra’s unconscious bodies. Hidden in the back of the truck, Conrad was able to cross the CENT fields without anyone laying eyes on him; by the time the truck entered Fort Rokres itself, he was invisible again.

From there, the truck had taken Pierce, Liask, and Obra to some kind of jail. Conrad stuck around just long enough to memorize its location and try to figure out how to open the jails himself, but upon learning that the jail was covered in more CENT fields — and that the guards had driven off with the keys to the cells — Conrad had resigned himself to simply walking the streets of Rokres, whiling away the time until he could come up with some kind of plan to spring out his friends.

Should probably find a change of clothes, and somewhere to stay the night, at least… he thought to himself. While he had brought a change of clothes with him, he had ultimately left the articles in the aircraft that the group had used to reach Rokres, which was outside of the city and across an unknown number of CENT fields. Getting there would be far too risky, and not worth it besides; the only clothes Conrad had packed were his typical gray t-shirt and jean shorts, which he now realized would stand out far too much against the green, brown, and white robes that the people of Rokres preferred to wear. If he wanted to blend in without using his invisibility, then he would have to obtain some robes of his own… and with no money on him that Rokres would accept, his only option was to steal a set.

Which shouldn’t be too hard, given that people can’t even see or hear me, but still… can’t say I’m thrilled about this. At least my hair’s a dark brown. I don’t think I’ve seen a single blond person around here, Pierce would’ve stood out like a sore thumb… Conrad carefully looked left and right down the busy street in front of him, and then backed down the dark alley he was in toward a smaller, less busy side street that he had found earlier. This whole situation is fucked, though. Man, I knew I should’ve pushed back harder against Pierce… maybe now that he’s been captured once, he’ll be more careful in the future. …Then again, we were already captured once by EA, weren’t we? And that didn’t change Pierce’s behavior at all. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised… Aw, man, I thought going with Phoenix and Kestrel would’ve been too boring, but now I regret not tagging along…

“Chief Kores! There you are! I needa word!”

Startled, Conrad glanced down the side street he had just stopped on. Down the block, he could see a tall, slender man in brown robing and with short black hair jog up to a shorter woman, who herself had a long black ponytail and was wearing green. The man’s back was to Conrad, so he couldn’t see his face, but the woman wore a sternly stoic expression as she turned to address the man who approached her. They then began speaking in normal tones, such that Conrad couldn’t hear from down the block — by normal means, that is. So that woman is a Chief, huh? Conrad mused as he began following the two individuals down the street at a safe distance. If she’s a leader around here, then maybe she knows something. Time to listen in.

As he continued to follow the pair, Conrad deftly manipulated the sound waves in the air, allowing himself to eavesdrop on the man and the woman without amplifying their voices enough to be heard by anyone else.

“…urge you to reconsider,” came the man’s voice, carrying a firm yet somewhat exasperated tone. “Their deal was very generous.”

“They’re outsiders,” replied the woman — or Chief Kores, as the man had called her.

“Everyone’s an outsider ‘round here,” the man countered. “This is a big world we live in. Rokres needs to adapt.”

“’Adapt’, Dodre?” Kores scoffed. “If Rokres followed the whims of you and those other sand-lickers, then we’d fall to the level of those dirt-eating Compounds in no time.”

Eesh. Conrad found himself cringing in response to Kores’ sharp tongue. The words she used sounded benign enough, but her tone while using them suggested to Conrad that they were strong slurs against the Tresédians living in the wastelands.

“You should watch your tongue, Kores,” the man — Dodre — snapped. “Insultin’ the people you work with on a regular basis ain’t a good way to stay Chief.”

“I insult you only as much as you insult Rokres’s traditions.”

“The outsiders’ deal aligns perfectly well with our traditions. More than those entitled bastards at the NSD.”

“Explain how givin’ up any of our lands benefits us.”

“The outsiders, these SFC people, they never mentioned the quality of land they’re lookin’ for. So we don’t need to give up the good land. There’s plenty of drylands on the west side of the peninsula that we have no use for!”

SFC? There’s that name, again, Conrad mused. Those are the guys who run security over in Riverana, right? And I remember seeing a couple of them meet with Davídrius a month or two ago. What are they doing in Treséd…?

“Giving up any of our lands is the first step to losin’ all of our lands,” Kores declared, bringing Conrad’s attention back to the conversation. “The moment we show outsiders we’re willin’ to make deals like this, it’s only a matter of time before they’ve carved up Rokres and polluted what precious little greenery still exists on this skies-forsaken continent.”

“That’s a ridiculous argument,” Dodre countered. “We’re the ones who decide what deals go through! We won’t reach the worst-case scenario, because we can just say ‘no’ before we get there!”

“Right. Which is why I’m sayin’ ‘no’ right now.”

“Listen to yourself. Do you fear the outsiders, Kores? Is that why you won’t deal with them?”

“I should be askin’ you that. Half the deal of the outsiders you petition for so heavily is that they ‘guard’ our own territory! Do you think Rokres has lost the ability to protect itself?”

“I think it’s a question we should be askin’ ourselves! You’ve heard the stories. The Bleeders are gettin’ stronger. They’re back to raidin’ Compounds, like they did twenty years ago. And once all the Compounds are gone, who’s next? Rokres is all that’s left!”

“You’re suggestin’ we fear the Bleeders? Of all outsiders, they’re the most worthless! I will not stoop to the level of suggestin’ Rokres cannot defend itself from Bleeders. Why, just earlier today, the Negation Line around this city stopped some intruders. They went down immediately. What makes you think the Bleeders could get past that?”

Negation Line? Intruders…? She must be talking about us. Conrad briefly quickened his pace to close the distance a little between himself and the two arguing Rokresians.

“Todays intruders were pathetic. They seemed to not know anything about the Negation Line,” Dodre responded to Kores’ argument. “What’s most concerning about them is that one of them has light hair. I’ve seen no Tresédian like that.”

“Olres thinks the light-haired one is from outside Nimalia,” Kores commented. “He spoke a language that wasn’t our own. And the two with him seemed to understand him.”

“You’re saying they have that translation technology? The tech that Tresnon has?”

“Yes. Olres thinks they’re from Tresnon. You know what this means, right? Not only has Tresnon attempted to invade our territory, but they did so unsuccessfully, through minimal effort of our own. And Tresnon is supposed to be the most advanced of all the Compounds, the one that stands tall against the Bleeders. If even those dirt-eaters can’t pierce Rokres’s defenses, then why think that anyone else can?”

It was a lot easier than you’d think… Conrad mused. Still, they’ve already figured out that Pierce and the others are from Tresnon. That’s not good. Or maybe it is! Maybe they’ll contact Tresnon, and then everything will sort itself out, that way!

“You must be jokin’,” Dodre replied. “I agree it’s likely the intruders were from Tresnon, but you’ve heard about that school they got there. They’ve been sappin’ up all the young Chaotics from across the lands. I bet those intruders were just students, and if so, we shouldn’t use ‘em to judge the abilities of other outsiders.”

“You think too highly of outsiders. If any of them were as clever or as smart as anyone from Rokres, then they could have reformed the old nation of Treséd by now. But they haven’t. Rokres is the last bastion of true civilization on this skies-damned continent, Dodre, and I simply will not allow any outsider influence to poison us.”

“…So you say, Chief. But the number of people who agree with me is growin’ by the day. Rokres is bein’ held back by people like you, by people who refuse to admit that some outsiders may actually have somethin’ to offer us. And if you don’t realize that soon enough, then you won’t be Chief for long!”

“I believe those words about as much as I believe that any of you sand-lickers have the gall to actually attack me. Rokres stands strong because it stands alone. Those are my last words on this subject. Be on your way, Dodre. I don’t want to hear another word from you today.”

At that, Dodre stopped following Chief Kores, allowing her to continue forward and finally step out onto the main street that the side street was leading up to. From his position behind Dodre, Conrad couldn’t tell what kind of expression the Rokresian was making, but from the conversation he had just overheard, he could guess well enough.

Sounds like Rokres has its own problems, Conrad mused as he dipped into another back alley that ran parallel to the main street. …I don’t know if knowing that helps me at all, but it’s interesting, I guess. Maybe I could find someone like that Dodre guy, who isn’t AS hostile to outsiders, and convince them to let Pierce and the others go. …Aw, man, but then I’d have to go out and actually find the person, and talk to them, and somehow convince them that I’m an okay person, all while I can’t even speak their language. Great. Just great. A deep, exasperated breath escaped Conrad’s lips. …Well. Can’t really do anything right now. Let’s go get those clothes, and find a place to sleep tonight. Once I’ve done that, it’s time to figure out how the hell I’m going to pull Pierce’s ass out of the fire. He had better thank me, after this…