14 - Shadows of the City
"That day, I was the only believer who survived and escaped from the spears and swords of Mitra's paladins."
Monica sister confessed it to us. Back when she was young, her fellow believers had been slaughtered by the Mitra Church. Esen bared her fangs and glared in shock at the story.
Wrapped in a blanket, sister sipped the hot chocolate that Esen and I had gotten from the sailors.
"Of course, that Mitra believer we saw probably has no idea about any of it. They say the sun never sets on the Mitra Church's chapels."
Meaning the church's power was immense. There was always at least one chapel somewhere on earth greeting the dawn. No wonder the expression "Mitra help me" was so common.
In a massive organization like that, even if only one in a hundred was a lunatic, their numbers would be staggering. Fanatics banding together to harass smaller sects wasn't a one- or two-day affair.
"Do you know why I keep the name of the one I serve a secret, Esen?"
"You said it's not something you're proud of, so you don't tell party members."
Esen took a sip of booze to cool her temper.
"But no one in our party follows that faith. I can't imagine someone as good as you would serve anything weird."
Among the drinks Esen had wheedled from the sailors, hers was a strong-smelling ale. The mission was two days away, but I didn't stop her. Tigress folk with their insane metabolisms didn't get drunk easily on hard liquor.
But when the faint booze scent made sister cough, Esen awkwardly sealed her ale mug.
"Still, some folks think different sects are the root of all evil. Mitra zealots are infamous for their thuggery, shoving swords at innocent people."
"...Innocent people... The god I serve isn't purely good. But their response was excessively brutal, that's certain. The ones who took in this orphan didn't even get a chance to speak before they died."
Sadness and loneliness crossed sister's face. Thinking back, she'd always had that look when she wasn't busy with the kids—gazing into the distance.
I just hadn't been mature enough back then to glimpse the pain she kept buried.
"Out of the dozens of believers in that burning chapel, why did my god save only me from peril? I've pondered it all these years, but I still don't know."
Monica sister smiled wistfully.
"I couldn't abandon my faith in the one who saved me. But I've learned it's best not to say who it is."
Meaning Mitra's sun emblem had become a trauma. Now I understood why someone with such incredible healing powers had hidden away like a reclusive scholar in our rural hometown.
First zealots, then monsters. Why did the world rip away her home twice from someone so kind?
We comforted her until she slept, then followed suit.
The next few days until arrival, we stuck to our cabin, chatting among party members as much as possible. So she wouldn't notice those Mitra paladins on the same ship.
Those bastards were the noisy ones. Clanking in their armor, bragging about demon hunts with raucous laughter. Telling us to shut up.
"We've arrived!"
The ship rocked to a halt. I hurriedly packed my gear. My resolve, which had been a bit loose, hardened completely.
No way in hell would I let those damn pricks stop Esen from ranking up. This monster hunt's credit would go straight into our party's mouth.
—————
Bitsurk's evening mist was so thick it was hard to tell from rain. Just walking soaked you through, clothes clinging like vines in the bone-chilling damp that sucked the marrow from your bones.
Weary travelers lost their wits, and the streetlamps flickering through the fog shook their last resolve like a siren's lure.
If downtown was like this, no one would bat an eye if a monster snatched someone away.
Which is probably why it showed up here.
As hundreds of party members gathered at the harbor, city hall reps came out to greet us. They'd cleared a big building for the hero parties, they said.
At the entrance, a woman in her thirties called out lazily with sleepy eyes.
"I'm this city's mayor, Lillita. Welcome to Bitsurk, hero legion!"
"It's parties, not a legion, mayor."
"My mind's elsewhere these days with all the worries. With you fixers here, I believe the terror over our city will end soon."
Got it, now let us in.
Shivering, I glared at the mayor in annoyance. The streets were slippery, the wind brutally cold. She'd barely said a word, but it felt like she was dragging this out to give us colds.
As her bootlicking speech dragged on, Esen cut in boredly.
"Will this take long, mayor? We'd rather hear it inside if possible."
Our party's fighters' eyes shone with respect. Not just because Esen stood unfazed in short sleeves in this weather.
"Esen's the best. She shreds conversations and cuts off bullshit just as well."
"She says what needs saying, Ekacola."
The women whispered to me. My future looked bleak. What kind of comrade was Esen to them?
"What rudeness is this? Show respect to the city's representative!"
But someone squashed Esen's righteous moment as impolite. Esen turned with an incredulous laugh.
The paladin who'd picked a fight with us days ago was glaring sharply at our A-rank fighter.
"You think you can approach the mission with that 'just kill the demons and done' attitude? Do lowly subhumans like you lack respect for leaders?"
Ridiculous. Was that helmet waterproof? Rain must be pouring in.
I whispered to Esen to stay calm. There was a supervisor from the Hero Party Alliance among us. The goateed one eyed Esen's back with eager anticipation, beard twitching.
He seemed to hope she'd win the argument so we could all get warm. But it had to be just words—no breaking jaws.
Fighting among ourselves before the mission started proper could jeopardize our special-rank promotion.
I summed it up and whispered. Esen nodded vaguely and faced the paladin.
"What's wrong with my attitude, holy rollers?"
She hadn't taken my words to heart much.
"Is a little cold a big deal? Unknown demons prowl the dark, snatching people. Thousands of innocent citizens tremble in fear! Compared to that, this chill is nothing. Didn't you read the tear-stained request?"
"That request's soaked and illegible now. What changes if we hear it inside? Can't you step aside so we can all warm up?"
Paladins clustered near the entrance. If they didn't move, it was hard for the rest to enter.
Citizen terror my ass—this was pointless stubbornness.
Soon, members from other parties glared at the twenty paladins too. The attention-seeking clowns seemed proud of it.
The woman paladin bellowed.
"Guardians of Mitra, does the cold discomfort you?"
"No!"
"Can the cold block our justice?"
"No!"
The paladins roared back, loud enough for the streets. A show of strength, then. Flexing on the other parties.
We're a disciplined, church-trained real party. You're ragtag fame-chasers. We'll show the difference.
Would they be satisfied if we groveled in awe? Or were they aiming for residents to feel safe from their heroic cries?
Either way, in this hellish weather, only one grinned at their stamina drain: the mayor, foot in the door, basking in hearth air.
I didn't know how much cold endurance training paladins got. Not my business. But they were tough bastards.
The emotional zealots started singing hymns in rapture. I'd had enough.
I whispered to my party what I was about to do. Eyes widened, they passed it on quietly.
Soon, everyone from various parties got the message.
I carefully pulled out the silver-furred weasel from my pocket. The furball, paws in its winter coat, rubbed sleepy eyes. Our all-female party melted.
"Whoa, so cute. For real."
"Shh. Shh. The tin cans'll hear."
"That's why we're whispering our love. What's its name?"
Whether paladins heard or not, whispering made commands hard. I asked for silence and instructed the weasel clearly.
It hated the damp cold floor on its pads, naturally. But with a sugar cube, it grudgingly accepted the deal.
Soon after it scampered off, a shrill scream echoed from afar.
Paladins startled, heads snapping up. Then thick blood scent spread deep into the fog.
I pointed into the wind.
"Over there!"
Duty-bound paladins yelled and charged. Other parties reluctantly cleared the way.
Not one chased the faith-heads.
The clanking zealots ran past, eyeing us like cowards.
Once they rounded the corner, Monica beside me exhaled sharply.
Our party gave her pitying looks. Damn trauma. Better not leave sister where those jerks can see.
"You held up well, sister."
"Thanks, Tan... no, Ran. Slipped again."
As I patted her back, Esen strode to the entrance, facing the mayor.
"Mind if we come in?"
"Eh, you're not chasing th—"
"Those tough guys who don't feel the cold will handle it. You were grinning like you trusted them, right? We think so too."
Esen pocketed one hand, casually draping an arm over the mayor's shoulder—like a delinquent academy kid who'd borrowed cash from a junior and never paid.
With sturdy Esen dragging the last obstacle inside, the rest cheered and followed through the gap.
I lingered, ear cocked toward the alley.
Chaos. In thick fog and my blood scent, frustrated shouts chasing invisible foes.
"Protect the citizens! Inquisitors with Heretic Interrogator aptitude, scan wide!"
"Can't see shit in this fog!"
"Listen close! Report any more screams instantly!"
Futile. The screamer was long gone.
Job done, the weasel scampered from the fog into my arms.
Disrupt one sense, others falter. In cold numbing eyes, nose, skin, a small beast's cry blends with a child's scream.
All they'd find in that alley: an empty vial of my scent amplifier, blood drops scattered.
I fed the hardworking weasel another sugar cube in the chill, then grinned slyly.
"Watch your leaky brains, you tin cans."