Reborn From the Cosmos

Arc 8-34 (Lucas)

Lucas never thought of himself as a shy man. Communication was important to hunters. You couldn’t be afraid to shout orders when lives were on the line.

Despite that, having a conversation while dozens of suspicious individuals looked on in deafening silence was unnerving. He had to fight the urge to ask for a privacy as he began his pitch. “For generations, the Traditionalists have been forbidden from intervening in matters beyond their purview. They have been the silent guardians of all hunters, of humanity. Their reluctance to attack, to prevent the Purple Menace and the destruction it caused, may seem like weakness, but it is another demonstration of their strength. How, even when tested by the most extreme circumstances, they upheld their word, the vows taken by the very first—"

“You sure like to hear yourself talk.”

Sin’s words weren’t spoken any louder than Lucas’, but somehow they cut through his speech, silencing him.

“I’ve noticed a lot of air casters ramble forever if you let them. Affinities have been linked to personalities many times. Perhaps the air affinity makes you chatty. What do you think?”

“…I think this isn’t the time for philosophical debates.”

“When is a good time for them?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Surely, if you can recognize this is a bad time, you have an idea what a better time would be. What would be the ideal time for you?”

Lucas debated whether he should force the conversation back on track, but quickly decided against it. It was a bit ridiculous but they were building rapport. They also weren’t on a schedule so there was no harm in wasting a few minutes on idle chatter. “Ideally, I’d save it for far in the future, when my biggest concern is how to waste an evening.”

“Far in the future?”

“It’s going to take a lot of time to fix this city. Time and work.”

“Well, at least you’re not a useless idealist. And you’re right, it’ll take many years for this city to recover. I assume the Traditionalists think they’re the key to putting the city back together?”

“Of course not. It’ll take everyone.”

“Led by you all though. And this time, it won’t be from the shadows. You’ll be standing front and center, the sun shining off the saints’ asses to illuminate the glorious heroes of the city.”

Lucas frowned. The man’s tone remained pleasant but there was a venomous undertone. One that seemed to infect the air, making it tingle as it touched the back of his arms and the nape of his neck. “We hope to lead by example.”

“By example, you say!” For the first time, Sin’s expression changed, generous lips curving into a smile. In any other situation, it would have been a charming expression but in the gloom, there was something sinister about it. “Let’s remember the example the elites of the guilds have set for us. Lord over the less fortunate for centuries with claims of unrivaled power, run with your tails tucked between your legs when that power is needed most, and then swoop in to make it all better. Tell me, did I miss anything?”

Lucas grit his teeth. “A few clarifying points but I have the feeling that we could argue over those all night.”

“Of course. I’m sure you all see the situation much differently. Or perhaps you know something we don’t. The Traditionalists aren’t known for being candid.”

“…are we here to speak of cooperation or for you to insult us?”

“Can it not be both? Don’t tell me your ego is so flimsy it’ll shatter under a little well-deserved criticism?”

“My ego is sturdy and if a few harsh words can soothe the tension between our groups, I’d suffer them gladly. However, my sense of propriety is offended by this ridiculous display. We are two intelligent men with responsibilities. I’d hope we’d have the good sense and proper sense of priorities not to waste each other’s time.”

“Ah, yes. It’s a particular frustration, having your hopes and dreams played with at the whim of another, isn’t it? We’re so familiar with it, it’s become rather normal but I guess a Traditionalist wouldn’t have the same tolerance.”

“Again, are we here to cooperate or for you to soothe a grudge?”

“Again, can it not be both? But I suppose it’s time for the other. You want us to work for you. I assume you have no problem with paying us for that labor?”

“Of course not.”

“Good. Then our price is fifty percent of whatever you’re trying to find.”

“Those supplies are meant to rebuild this city.” While the Traditionalists had decided that it was in everyone’s best interests to work together, they didn’t trust the rebels. Certainly not enough to entrust them with the truth of what they were looking for. They thought that the Traditionalists were trying to retrieve a cache of dried food and medicine. “We’re more than happy to pay you in gold but the people are counting on those supplies.”

“Are we not the people?”

“You are not fifty percent of the people.”

“Agreed. Then we’ll say five percent. A fraction of my first ask. You are a skilled negotiator, Mr. Macklemore.”

Skilled negotiator my ass. “We would prefer to pay you in crowns.”

“Crowns are worthless, even those on the heads of men. But I am a generous man. Three percent of whatever is in your storage. It’s practically charity at this point but I consider myself a man of the people and am willing to sacrifice for them.”

Lucas’ lips pressed together tightly as he resisted a scowl. It was a ridiculous price. He had no logical reason to refuse. Worse, it was obvious that Sin wasn’t interested in negotiating.

“I’m starting to think that maybe you don’t want to work with us. That you have something you want to hide in that cache. Do you have something to hide, Mr. Macklemore?”

“I’m starting to think you have no intention of working with us, Sin.”

“I’ve offered nothing but compromise. Would you like the skin off my back too?”

“I don’t believe this is the time for jokes.”

“Ah, but I wasn’t joking.” Sin raised a hand and the two closest rebels sauntered to his side. Lucas reached for his magic as they both drew blades, but the weapons never turned toward him. The first sliced open Sin’s clean, white shirt and ripped it from his body, tossing it to the ground. The second grabbed the rebel leader by the shoulder, holding the knife over his skin but not using it.

“What are you doing?” Lucas questioned, confused and unnerved by Sin’s unwavering gaze.

“Being literal. How about it, Mr. Macklemore? I’m quite prepared to give you the skin off my back if you are willing to share a mere fraction of what’s in that cache you’re looking for. One thing. One thing for the cooperation of all my men, on the condition that I get to select it. One measly item. Surely, that is a low enough price.”

“It’s not about the price. It’s about questioning your sanity.”

“I’m perfectly sane and logical. And logic dictates that if you are refusing to such a degree, then that cache is a lot more than bags of grain and herbs.”

“It’s—“

“I think there are weapons there. Weapons that have propped up the egos of the Traditionalists for generations. Weapons strong enough to make you all think that you can fight off the Menace. Maybe the Hall and the crown too. If we are going to cooperate, then it will be as equals, as it always should have been. And if we are equals, then we should have these weapons too. We will no longer let others decide our fates. Decide what we are worthy of. So, what’s your answer, Traditionalists? Are we allies? Or are you another group of oppressors?”

Lucas didn’t have a good answer. Worse, he couldn’t think of a way to keep the situation from deteriorating. The meeting had been a trap, but not one they could imagine. He was prepared for the rebels to attack them like mindless beasts. He was prepared for Sin to try to swindle them. He hadn’t been prepared to be a character in a play, goaded into putting on a performance to further a madman’s rhetoric. Sin never intended to work with them. The sad part was, it was probably because he knew they never intended to work with him. So instead, he’d decided to use them.

Whatever Lucas said next, there was no recovering.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to ponder how to gracefully escape the botched negotiation for long. Scrabbling claws caught his attention, and everyone else’s, as a group of craggles dashed into the square. They were lean, sinewy creatures, with long necks and longer tails. Their short, curved claws could shred leather and meat with ease, but they rarely inflicted damage to hunters. The creatures were cowards. Even traveling in groups, they preferred to run from anything bigger than them, which was anything bigger than a pest. Plenty considered them pests too. They feasted on the dead and scurried at the slightest sign of attention from another.

Except, when they arrived in the middle of the square, they froze, several dozen of the creatures going so still, if Lucas had come upon them without seeing their mad dash from moments before, he could have mistaken them for incredibly life-like statues.

He didn’t get to admire them for long before his attention was drawn by more shapes bursting into the square. There were only four of them but they were of much greater concern. Predators, and large ones, their shoulders coming up to Lucas’ chest. A long time ago, their ancestors were wolf-adjacent creatures. They evolved to use the fire affinity, becoming emberwolves, magical beasts with fangs, claws, and the ability to burn anything that came in contact with their fur. The strongest of them could even project a sphere of heated air hot enough to burn skin and cook warriors inside of their armor. Fighting a pack of mature emberwolves was a job for the most experienced silver ranked hunters, though it was only considered safe for a team of golds.

They were the kind of threat that the Traditionalists feared getting into the city through the compromised walls, drawn by the smell of death that permeated the ruins. They shouldn’t be a threat, being surrounded by hunters, but too many swords did more damage to each other than their target. If it were just his group, he’d be a lot more confident. As it was, he was more concerned with being hit by a stray spell than he was of the emberwolves ripping out his jugular.

There was a moment of silence as every living being took in the incredible circumstances, feeling the weight of the moment and the tension of what it would lead to.

Then the square erupted as the beasts collectively lost their minds.

Bloodthirsty growls and yowling hisses filled the silence as the animals threw themselves at the closest human. Even the normally cowardly craggles didn’t hesitate to go for blood. Lucas had the misfortune of being targeted by two but his instinctive casting of a fast moving dome of wind stopped them, throwing the pests away.

Everyone didn’t react as well.

There were screams and flashes of light as the rebels haphazardly threw magic, many of the spells failing to hit their agile targets. Blades were drawn and orders were barked. The scene quickly devolved into chaos as the animals claimed their first victims, throwing themselves at their targets with reckless malice.

Lucas swore as a poorly aimed firebolt passed close to his head, ducking as he yelled, “Retreat!”

An unnecessary order. His so-called allies had already started to do so, haphazardly moving in the direction of their planned escape route. Thankfully, the rebels had the beasts’ full attention, making themselves targets as they came to each other's aide. Lucas’ magic only had to divert three more craggles but it blocked over a dozen poorly aimed spells as he sprinted, hopped, and threw himself through the square.

He didn’t catch up to his team until they were well away from the fighting, when the other men slowed down. Lucas’ didn’t, slamming into Candor and throwing him to the ground. He knew the other man had to be the one that gave the order. “You were going to leave me!” he shouted, heart pounding. He could still feel the heat of the firebolt that was almost too close.

“That wasn’t a situation to hesitate,” Candor replied calmly as he climbed to his feet. He glared at Lucas as he brushed himself off. “You’re a capable man. I fully expected you to handle yourself. And this is not the time or place to argue about it.”

“No. That’ll be for later, when I bring up your conduct before Jacoby.”

“Snitching to your owner, is it?”

Lucas stepped close to the bigger man, close enough that he could feel the man’s breath when Candor exhaled. Despite the uncomfortable proximity, the other hunter didn’t budge an inch, his dark eyes unwavering. If it were any other circumstance, Lucas might have admired the stubbornness. As it was targeted at him, he despised it.

“You are going to accept that the world has changed from when you and all your snobbish family got to turn your noses up at anyone not a part of your exclusive club. People died. The city was gobbled up and shat out. There are fucking elves walking around planning who knows what. Saints know what’ll hit the kingdom next. Get it through your shiny fucking head, there’s no more time for this horseshit!”

Lucas stomped past the man, knowing his words hadn’t gotten through. Attitudes forged over centuries wouldn’t break so easily and it wasn’t a priority for the Traditionalists’ leadership. Something Lucas thought he understood. Worrying about whether the old families would play nice seemed like an inconsequential thing when held up against the guilds being completely erased. Yet, the more he endured their attitudes, the harder they were to ignore.

Sin, the utter madman he was, had made a good point. Lucas wasn’t putting in so much effort and risking his life to go back to being on the outside. He wanted to be an equal. He wasn’t interested in seeing the city being put back exactly the same. 

And if the Traditionalists got their hands on the Authority, that was exactly what would happen.