Chapter 39: Road Trip
By the time Valens was done with the wounded, it had started raining outside. Large droplets pounded against the canvas of the tent like solid stones, dripping in streams and oozing silently underneath the earth. Mud and the fresh smell of the empty forest filled the opening.
All in all, he was satisfied with the result. One of his best efforts, to his thinking, if he were to dismiss the number of men who died before they got a chance to crawl into his tent.
“There’s a reason why they are called Priests, not Healers,” Valens said as he and Celme stared out into the dark night from inside the tent. Garran lounged lazily outside, golden armor shining round the dreary black of the stretch, seemingly not too bothered by the rain washing off him in waves. “Slouchy fools clad in the shell of their religious order. How easy it is to garner some respect in this world, one has to wonder.”
“You’re doing it again,” Celme said, more relieved than spent by the long hours that went into the work. “Talking as though you’re not from this world.”
“What if that was the case?” Valens asked, curious. “You’ve people who can command the dead here. Armies of undead being forged in some place called Underworld even as we speak. Ninth Legion, was it? I’ll miss Nomad and his antiques. There was something soothing about that man.”
“Stop!” Celme held a finger up to his lips, sneaking a glance at Garran. “Don’t mention anything about the Rift. You’d promised you’d keep it secret.” Celme then tilted her head back. “And we are not in the Broken Lands. People aren’t used to fighting the monsters of Shadow here.”
“Oh?” Valens asked, intrigued. “When were you planning on telling me that you belonged to a secret cult? That’s what this is, right? That’s why you’re all acting as though you worship this Golden Sun or what’s his face. And this Zodros–”
Celme glared at him hard, which promptly shut Valens’s mouth as he didn’t want to stir any trouble here. He was just curious.
“Fine,” he said, going back to the earlier topic. “If people here are not used to fighting the monsters, what do they do, then?”
“They live,” Celme said fiercely. “Blissful in their ignorance. They like things as they are. That’s why you don’t see nobles rallying people for the common effort. No, they fancy their balls and jewels, the painted walls of their mansions and ever-bright halls of opulence too much to do anything that would change that. So long as the battle is being fought by the valiant, they are happy to remain in their cities.”
“Of course they are,” Valens said. He was beginning to form the root of an idea of such a society, as the Empire had worked in similar ways. Though they didn’t have Rifts and monsters and a world broken beyond repair, it seemed to him that there wasn’t much difference in mind.
I might have to dig deep. Can’t go around chasing monsters all the time. Stats and levels are important, but I’m here for the truth of it. I need to learn about the culture. See if there’s any wise Magi that could help me, too.