by J. J. Pavlov
"That doesn't sound like the name of a country to me. Do they speak Imperian there?" I keep my voice level, but my smile disappears.
"... what?" His terror slowly makes way for confusion when he doesn't get the direction my line of questioning is going.
"Imperian, do you speak it?" Emphasizing my growing lack of patience by shaking him up and down by his ankle, I ask him in annoyance.
"Y-yes!" He quickly replies, understanding that making me angry is the last thing he would want.
"Then tell me what country this is." I ask him again.
"What...?" He blinks in confusion, and that does it for me. Three more tentacles grow from my back, grab his limbs, and rip him in four. I throw his remains into different corners of the room instead of eating them as I did with the others before. I don't want to be infected by his stupidity.
Hestia giggles next to me, and I glance at her. She's embracing the corruption mentally as well, and I find that quite sexy. It should be disturbing, but I'm not in the best position to be a judge of mental illnesses when I can turn people into a bloody mess without batting an eye.
"Let's try you. What's your name?" I look at the man who remained seated. He has a slender build and a well-shaped face with a neatly trimmed beard. I could even call him somewhat handsome and would have never guessed that a person like him visits such a shady bar. Judging books by their covers won't get you far in life after all.
"Basim... Al-Amjad..." The man responds without moving a muscle and not even blinking. Maybe he fears that I'm going to do the same to him if he acts even slightly out of line.
His pronunciation is much better than Ayman and the other's whom I just disposed of.
"What country is this?" I ask him the same question I have twice before since I have yet to hear an answer to it.
"This, Khurut Sultanate." Ayman is the first to respond with an eager nod, thinking this is his chance to make it out alive. That if he provides me with useful information, I won't kill him. Too bad his life is already forfeit because he's a slave owner. He just doesn't know it yet.
But this is the Khurut Sultanate, huh? The only time I ever heard this name was when the bard mentioned that in Maou-mama's retaliation strike against humanity, she attacked this nation. It's been thirty years since then, so there was plenty of time for them to recover, it seems.
"What is the fastest way to the Kingdom of Lares?" Without commenting on his answer, I throw the next question into the room. The previous one was directed at Basim alone, but Ayman answered. This time, it's for both of them.
"I show you." The latter is the first to answer again, but it's obviously an attempt to buy time. If he gets out of this room alive, he thinks there's a possibility that he can get away from me.
"You can travel on Nahar Bahasa, then Nahar Moyatilhayati. Go down river to Qusantinah." Basim quickly answers. Seeing my left eyebrow shooting up at the names, he immediately explains. "Nahar Bahasa is river here."
He lifts a trembling hand and points at the ground to emphasize his explanation. I'm really having fun being the reason for such almost tangible fear; it feels nourishing as if I'm eating real food. If only that were possible, it would make my life much more comfortable.
"Nahar Moyatilhayati is biggest river in Khurut, next to Qusantinah, the capital. You can find guide through Nagirah to Mineva Republic there." Basim continues his explanation of how to get back to the kingdom. "Republic has ships; you can travel over ocean."
"Limada akhbaraha?" Ayman sounds desperate when he talks to Basim in their language.
"Stop, brother. She will kill us both." The way the latter replies to Ayman leads me to believe that they aren't actually related. I guess the word 'brother' is used to address a man of similar age.
"What did he say?" I ask Basim instead of Ayman, to make a point. It's a warning to the latter that I'm not trusting him to tell the truth, and that another attempt at trying to talk behind my back will have dire consequences.
"He asked why I tell you." Shaking his head, the slender man tells me the truth - or I hope for his sake that he does.
"So that he can buy some more time, huh?" Turning to look at the man in question, I frown in exaggerated disapproval. "Why do you disappoint me so?"
"I sorry! Please no kill me!" Kneeling in his own waste, Ayman begs me to spare his life. Tears and snot are running down his face as he tries his worst at appearing pitiful. It only makes me want to kill him more, but he serves a purpose yet.
"Do you know what language they speak in the Mineva Republic?" Thus, I ignore the fat creature and turn back to ask Basim.
"They speak your tongue." He replies, glancing at his sobbing fellow countryman. That's mighty convenient, but I expected as much. If the people in the republic didn't speak Imperian, Rolan and the others wouldn't have jumped to the false conclusion that I came from the Mineva Republic instead. I assume the Empire of Terminus has a different accent yet again.
"Thank you for your work." I pat the shivering man on the shoulder with one of my tentacles, and his whole body jumps. "Now, I have something I would like you to do for me. But I only need one of you."
I alternate my gaze between Basim and Ayman, and a smile creeps onto my lips. Their eyes widen in terror, and the latter immediately begins to grovel, slipping into his native language when his vocabulary runs dry. The former is a little more dignified, as he doesn't break down mentally and only stares at me while frozen in place.
"I picked up two orphans in the desert. Their family is dead, and they're too young to provide for themselves." I begin to explain, but Ayman is guessing where I'm going with this.
"I give them home! I care for them!" He offers with the most generous expression he can muster with the tear and snot stains on his face.
"What about you, Basim?" I stare down at the other man, who remained silent during Ayman's outburst.
"I will provide for them like own children. They will never lack anything. I give my word!" He's essentially saying the same, but his wording is better. And most of all, he sounds sincerer.
"My, you both sound like the right choice." Acting like it's a difficult decision, I cup my cheek in my palm and tilt my head. "Let me get some insurance."
One of my tentacles grab their necks each, push their ways into the two men's mouths, and then plunge down their throats. On Basim's end, I drop a piece of meat I snatched from one of the tables in my earlier rampage, while I do nothing for Ayman. He's going to serve as an example.
"Mico Ignis." I mutter under my breath while pulling the tentacles out of their bodies; that should have distracted both of them from my spell-casting.
"W-what you do?" After vomiting on the ground, Ayman asks while still coughing. Then he touches his round stomach, and his face grows red from growing pain. "W-what this?"
A split-second later, the front of his torso bursts open in an explosion, spewing flesh, bones, and guts across the floor. I create a screen with my body's mass to cover myself and Hestia from the viscera just in time to remain clean, but Basim isn't so lucky.
"He just had second thoughts, it seems." Shaking the blood off my screen, I peer down at the remaining man, whose face is sullied by the blood of his fellow slave bar-goer. He must be traumatized by the amount of mindless death he witnessed in here today already. "This is what will happen to you if you ever decide to go back on your word."
It's an outrageous bluff, but I did put something inside his stomach to make him think it's whatever killed Ayman just now. The piece of meat I put inside his stomach directly is going to get digested soon, but the fear of the unknown that sits inside his body now should be enough; I'm sure he won't doubt a thing I tell him.
I can't come back to check on the children, so this is all I can do for them. I'm sure someone affluent enough to own slaves should have the money to take good care of two kids.
"You will take care of them for the rest of your life, won't you?" Giving him a sinister smile, I ask in a rhetorical tone.
&
nbsp; Basim glances at the disemboweled Ayman, whose upper body has bent backward to show off the hollow cavity that used to house all of his internal organs, then nods frantically. That display left enough of an impression on him to never consider breaking his word to me.
"Let us drink to that." I gesture for Hestia to watch over the man, and walk over to the bar as if going on a simple stroll - stepping through the blood and pieces of flesh left behind by the other people I eviscerated like a kid stepping in puddles.
Once there, I pick one of the most expensive-looking bottles. It's easy to choose because it's one of the few made from glass. Taking two cups from behind the counter, I fill them with the golden brew and walk back to the chair into which Basim is still rooted.
"To our little agreement." I lift my cup and smile. As if on strings, the blood-covered man sitting before me does the same. "Drink up, then get your clothes changed. You can't meet your new children looking like that."
Winking at him and acting as if that's not my fault, I down the alcohol. It burns pretty strongly, but there's a pleasant aftertaste; I could get used to having a good drink after successfully conducting business. Basim follows my example absentmindedly and takes a little longer to finish his.
Chapter 54 - Khurut Culinary Tour
We left the devastated underground slave bar - not before opening the cages and letting the traumatized slaves out - and headed back to the city square with Basim in tow. Along the way, I transformed back into a bodysuit to cover Hestia while he wasn't looking and essentially cemented my status as a divine being when he turned around and was surprised at my sudden disappearance.
I made Hestia have our new collaborator explain to Hanif and Fayza in the kindest terms that he will be taking care of them from now on before I said my goodbye through the angel girl. Even though we only traveled with the kids for two days, they really grew on me. Maybe this farewell was harder for me than for anybody else.
But when we leave them in Basim's hands and walk away, I feel a burden lifting off my figurative shoulders - I don't have any real ones right now.
The sky is already completely dark, and the streets are deserted now that everybody has gone home. As we make our way toward the harbor, I think about our next move but am interrupted by a growling stomach. Considering I don't have one in my current form, it definitely came from Hestia.
"I am sorry, Chloe." She mutters while covering her tummy with a hand.
"No, don't be. I forgot that you haven't eaten since yesterday." Technically, she hasn't eaten since the evening on the day before yesterday. She was taken from her bed at night, and we've been on the move ever since. "Let's find ourselves a place for dinner."
While I'd love to hurry along, having Hestia collapse from hunger and exhaustion is the last thing I want. Maybe we should rest here for the night and continue tomorrow. With the money I got from the pouches of all the slave owners I ate in the bar, I should be able to find us a place to stay without a problem.
For convenience's sake, we could have gone with Basim. But the poor man would have keeled over from fear and stress. Also, I would have had to stay hidden from the children, to not waste my efforts of disappearing as if I had been only a mirage.
Suddenly, a familiar face passes us by. Because it's dark outside and Hestia is back in her rather prude uniform - and I'm hidden from view - he doesn't recognize us. Slipping out from between her clothes, I materialize in human form and put on my red cloak.
"Hey Jalil, how are you doing?" I call out to the receptionist of the slavers bar who had disappeared when we left it. The instant he hears my voice, he legs it without even turning around. But I already expected it and grab his ankle with a tentacle, causing him to fall flat on his face.
"Spare me!" He doesn't even struggle and flips over to look up at me with a pleading expression.
"I wasn't going to hurt you." Walking over the few steps that separate us, I peer down at him with a friendly smile. "I just need you to come with us."
"Anything, just no kill me!" Banging his head on the floor, Jalil tries to make himself look as pitiful as possible. He's not nearly as disgusting as Ayman, but I could never begin to like him. I compared him to the brainiac from Hovsgaerden, but he's far more gutless and opportunistic than that guy seemed to be.
"Be useful to me, and I'll let you go when we're done." Letting go of his ankle, I signal him that he can move freely now. "But try to run away, and I'll find you. And at that time, you won't get another chance."
"I understand! Anything for master." Continuing to kneel before me, he grovels to show his subordination. I'm not exactly happy to be addressed as if I'm a slave owner, but I see no reason to correct him.
"Show us where we can have some good food." I'll be using him as a guide since neither Hestia, nor I speak this nation's language. "Don't worry. You won't have to pay for us. In fact, I'll even pay for your share."
"Thank you! Master generous!" Jalil is just one step away from both figuratively and literally kissing my feet.
Alright, I would be lying if I said I wasn't actually enjoying this. Power truly corrupts.
But I remind myself of my miserable failure in the battle against the professors of the Royal Academy. I'll let it serve as a lesson not to underestimate humans, and least of all human mages. There could have been one among the slave owners or their bodyguards, but I didn't even give them any time to react when I killed them in droves. And that's what I'll be doing when I return to the academy to rescue Kamii.
"Lead the way." I pull myself out of my self-loathing and planning for the future, and order the still kneeling man to get going.
Scrambling to do as he's told, he walks ahead but turns around like a faithful dog checking whether or not their owner is following them. When he ascertains himself of that fact, for his own safety rather than not losing us, he continues to walk. I have to admit that his behavior is cute, and I begin to understand why in so many stories, powerful beings keep a lackey like that around.
There are very few people in the streets at this time of the day, so I no longer feel the need to cover Hestia's wings while walking about. Those who see her rub their eyes and stare, but don't cause a scene as I expected people would during the day when others are around to hear them.
Jalil leads us to the harbor - the place we wanted to go eventually anyway - and eagerly gestures at a houseboat. It's barely wide enough for three people to stand side-by-side, and it looks pretty shabby. But I spot a table and two benches that offer six seats under the roof extending from the little shelter which undoubtedly
doubles as a permanent home.
Three people are having a meal already, and one among them stands up to greet our guide. It's an old man, easily over sixty years old, with a fuzzy gray beard that reaches his exposed chest and a turban covering his head. The very dark tan and the lean body uncharacteristic for a person of his age speak volumes about his experience working as a ferryman under the glaring sun. And it would appear that he runs a small restaurant on the side.
I watch Jalil talk to the old man, who expertly balances on the swaying boat. The latter sees Hestia's wings, and his eyes go wide. After a heated discussion, he turns to the two customers and tells them to hurry up and leave. For some reason, I could believe he just said to them that the angel girl's wings need that space, rather than being excited about a mystical being like her being in front of him.
The two stare at us for a moment before picking up their bowls and jumping over to the boats parked left and right of this one while continuing to stuff their faces. Judging by their dark skin and smooth movements on the shaking footholds, they must be boatmen as well.
"Best food in Almadinad." As if having forgotten about his current predicament, Jalil gives me a genuine smile as he gestures at the now empty seats. He must be very sure about that to lead us to a place none of the customers in the bar he worked in until today would ever eat in.
I glance at Hestia to see that she's wrinkling her brow
and nose at the sight of this alternative for a restaurant, but I take it as experiencing a foreign culture. I can't just keep on killing people here; I need to use this opportunity to see the world, now that I've been given it against my will. Not that I'll forget my goal of getting back to Kamii over this.
"Are we really going to eat here, Chloe?" The fallen angel asks me, hoping that my answer will be in the negative.
"Yes, we will. This is most definitely authentic local and traditional food." I try not to sound too eager to try it, but it's hard when the smell of meat and fish wafts over to me under a breeze. The academy's canteen has as high a standard as the enrolment requirements are steep, so we were eating like nobles all this time. Let's see how the common folk in a foreign nation lives. "Jalil, tell him to bring out everything he has."
"Oh, yes, of course." Strangely excited, he interprets for us. The old man strokes his beard in surprise but laughs heartily before heading into the shelter to prepare the meal.
I take a seat, and Hestia reluctantly sits down next to me. Her wings barely fit under the low roof, and one of them covers my back because she can't even keep them folded. It seems the old cook foresaw that when he sent his other customers away.
But she takes this opportunity to rest her wing-arm on my shoulder while leaning onto me. Her misgivings about the quality of the food soon give way to joy, as she can be all over me. It's something she didn't do in the academy even after her corruption was completed. But witnessing me slaughter people seems to have ignited something in her; I'm sure she wouldn't hesitate to invite me to bed once we find one.
"Jalil, tell me more about yourself." Leaning on the table, I smile at my new toy. If he's going to be our guide, I do want to know some more than just that he used to work in a slavers bar until I came along and put it out of business.
"W-what you want to know? I-I just lowly servant." He stutters, his eyes swimming as he tries to make himself seem as uninteresting as possible. In his eyes, any attention from me outside of giving him an order he can put his mind into must be bad for his heart.
