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Divine: Merchants of the Silent Shore

Chapter X

I was but a small boy when I discovered my strength. I discovered it at my weakest. When I had nothing, I had took it all back.

Orphaned by the Church, who had hunted down my parents for their illegal and heretical use of magic, I was cast into the streets. There I was forced to beg and rely on the pity of those more fortunate only to be preyed upon by those stronger.

Each day was an eternity, a struggle to find a way to survive in the harsh world that was reality.

I hung on though. I wanted to live and so I stole. I fought. I even killed. I remember the first time I did it. It was over a scrap of rotted meat, festered and barely edible without vomiting. We had both seen it, the other boy, twice my size. It had been tossed out days earlier and covered with litter, but a gust of wind had revealed it to our hungry eyes.

We both got to it and we fought. I pushed my thumb into his eye and he bit into my shoulder. We rolled in the muck of the streets as others walked by without noticing or as others shouted and jeered as if we were their afternoon entertainment.

He was bigger and even with one eye a ruined mess of gelatinous carnage, he still stood over me and pushed my face into the ground with his raggedy boot. The weight increased and I could feel my skull straining and bending, my beak cracking. He intended to stamp me out as payment for his eye.

It was then, when I had nothing more to lose that I decided that I didn't even want to give up that.

I imagined revenge on him in a thousand ways. I imagined him carved up or torn apart. I wanted to stab him, bite him... kill him. These images came to mind so strongly and I truly believed in them, that I would do it. That was when I gained everything.

The weight lifted from my head to the sound of whistling wind. I felt blood drip onto me and I dared to look.

This no one who had decided to end me had in fact ended himself. He was speared, stabbed, torn, everything that I had imagined and believed in came true.

Out of thin air I had created these weapons of crystal which had rained from above and done my bidding. I had discovered my gift.

Of course, I had to hide it. Word of my doings spread quickly and it wasn't long before the Church began to hunt for me. Luckily, I was a no faced homeless street urchin. No one knew me and so no one found me.

I fled the city and took to the wilderness where I studied my new found powers. It was not hard to master. All I needed to do was imagine whatever weapon I wanted and believe that it was real and so it would be so.

I could throw a spear without lifting a finger or draw a bow many times my strength capacity without breaking a sweat. I prospered in nature and yet, I could not survive without other.

Even as an urchin, there had been friend and ally's. Those that I could rely on to help me so long as I helped them. A sense of comradeship was made and even though I knew not of their fates, I missed them and so I returned to the city, but not to the Church.

I heard tales of a place that was free and away from the oppression of the Church. I followed these tales to their source, the Guild States and I was free.

The rest of my story is known of how I joined the military and quickly, with the help of my abilities, came to prominence and eventually settled into my current position after decades of devotion to protecting that freedom.

Then the wars began again. Edwin Kelm and his followers strived for freedom and their lands to call home. The Church, of course, drew their blade in an attempt to stop the so called heretics.

While I never forgave the Church for what they did to my early life, I had a new life in the Guild States. We had proclaimed neutrality and I intended to uphold that, however I can no longer do that.

These talks about exclusive trade to the Church, effectively damning Edwin Kelm and his movement, cannot continue. I will not stand idly by while the Church enslaves my home and rapes her, taking everything.

What I witnessed in the Giant's Garden only confirms my belief that the Church is evil and that it cannot be allowed to continue. That is why I killed your Messenger.

--

The entire delegation was silent in absolute shock. They all, including much of the Guild States' representatives as well, stared at the Defense Minister and to the Messenger who sat slumped in his seat.

Only moments before, the Messenger had sat down after a short period of absence. He had been silent like before and peacefully listening in on the conversation when one of the Defense Minister's phantom blades had appeared and pierced him right through the chest.

Not even a gurgle escaped the Messenger's mouth before he collaped over, smashing his head against the table.

Now the raven was ranting madly.

"And you!" The raven pointed a feathered finger at some of the Guild States' representatives. "You were willing to sell us all out for more money in your pockets. It's all so many of you care about. No more."

Several guards who were stationed around the room pulled their swords.

"We will declare for Edwin Kelm," The Defense Minister demanded.

"Preposterous," a shaky and elderly otter spoke up. "That will lead to civil war. You will..."

A spear materialized over head and went through him, cutting him off short.

"So be it."

It was impossible to tell exactly what happened next.

More weapons were made and began to target those who were not already in league with the Defense Minister and soldiers began to turn on each other. It was absolute madness.

The Church delegation was almost instantly cut down, but several managed to get out, screaming and waving their arms as if the commotion inside hadn't already drawn the attention of every soldier in sight.

First to the scene was the pair of paladins, their armor gleaming and their massive weapons at the ready.

The rhino, his skin still black and healing from before, threw up a shield of light over the fleeing diplomats. The conjured weapons shattered on it. The other paladin with a war axe charged the Defense Minister, but was intercepted by a squad of ten Guild soldier who were streaming into the compound now.

With the paladins occupied, the Defense Minister lifted into the air and continued to rain death from above. He targeted the Church first, killing anyone affiliated with them when he could, pouring his hate into his attacks. He killed both armed and unarmed, watching in satisfaction, but then he hesitated.

Across the courtyard was the one who had finally convinced him of the Church's evil, Vargus. He felt a sudden rush to get over there, but he didn't because of one reason, Petrus. The father was sheltering his son with his body as they huddled behind the wall of the fountain. Memories of how he had lost his parents came back to mind.

He only hesitated for a moment before committing to action. "He will know my pain."

--

The commotion began almost as soon as Marty and Felix were back on the streets. Up and into the city, fighting could be heard and there was a large stream of civilians fleeing from that direction.

"What's going on?" Felix asked, putting a paw over his brow to block out some of the bright sunlight. "It looks like it's coming from the Church diplomatic compound. Where the talks are taking place."

"Shit," Marty murmured and grabbed Felix by the sleeve. "C'mon! We need to get up there!"

They began to push through the crowd of people who didn't care that it was Marty they were running against. They all had looks of worry or confusion on their faces.

It was tough and they weren't making progress with people coming down the road and coming out of buildings.

"Move!" Marty tried to tell them, but scantly a few listened. He then turned to Felix who was struggling to not be swept away. "We need to get to the side streets."

The cat looked up and around before spotting a narrow alleyway. "Over there." He pointed.

Marty saw the alley and began to make his way towards it, still dragging Felix behind him.

The alley did lead to a smaller and less crowded side street that ran parallel to the one Marty and Felix had just been on. It went all the way up to the compound gates.

The fighting was over by the time the two got there. No one was left but the dead as much of the fighting began to spread down into the city where civil war really was breaking out.

Those allied with the Defense Minister turned on their allies, capturing them when they could, killing them when they couldn't. It was brother against brother.

The Church delegation, or those that had survived, were gathering at the edge of the city, consolidating their forces to make a push back to the border. Their moral was low, having witnessed the death of the person they believed to have been the Messenger of the Gods. No one realized that it had been a decoy which was left behind and discovered by Marty and Felix.

The glamour had worn off by the time the two had found the ape who had, hours ago, led them the the shop of the mouse. He was on the floor now, the chair he had been slumped in, knocked over when everyone else in the room had gotten up to run.

"Jesus," Marty covered his mouth and knelt down beside the body that had a noticeable hole in his chest. "Who did this?" He looked around the room which no longer had a roof or two of its walls. Bodies of others were strewn about with signs of impalement, the conjoined weapons having faded away some time ago.

Felix knelt down and rolled the body over, revealing that the ape, Morgan, Felix remembered him being called, was still alive. Barely.

"Go and see if you can find something to stop the bleeding," Marty shouted and pointed off and away. "A rag or... or."

Morgan coughed up thick, dark red blood. "It is too late. D-do not worry." His eyes fluttered open, bloodshot and dark. They tried to focus on Marty, but instead ended up looking past him at the sky.

"Why?" Marty asked. "Who would do this?"

"The Symphony of- of Blades holds much anger to the Church as can be seen here," Morgan tensed for a moment in pain. Every movement, every breath was a struggle. "It was good I am here and not you." That was that, his eyes stilled and he died.

"FUCK!" Marty stood up and screamed and pulled his hair. "Why can't anything go wrong? Why me? Why? Why? Why? Why is this happening?" He slumped back against a cracked wall and slid down to a sitting position.

He had experienced hope, desperation, determination, everything in the past few weeks. One moment he knew what he had to do and then the next it would be dashed to pieces. It happened repeatedly over and over, dragging him down from his already low position.

Felix, ears lowered, sat next to him and hesitantly put a paw on Marty's back and gave him a few pats. "You're still alive, at least." He tried to find positives.

"I guess, but does that really mean anything?" He looked over at his one true fr-

Felix reflexively leaned back as Marty's eyes widened. "What?"

"Vargus and Petrus were here," he bolted straight up and did several one-eighties, scanning for signs of the two canines. "No. No. We need to find them. They were here!" He ran off and out of the demolished building and into the courtyard where he went from body to body, looking, hoping that he actually wouldn't find them.

Felix quickly joined in. Marty's panic seeped into him as he began to turn bodies.

There were so many faces that were recognizable. The various soldiers that had come along in the caravan or diplomats. Faces that Marty had seen for just a moment, but still recognized. He even saw the body of a stag slumped into a bush of flowers, his antlers visibly sticking up and out. He didn't dare go over to it.

One by one he went around the courtyard, even briefly going inside the main compound building to check there. He was starting to get a sense of hope and the number of new bodies shrunk. Maybe they escaped. Just maybe. Please.

Marty started going around the fountain where the water was still circulating, dyed a deep red. He saw an otter, a pair of Guild soldiers locked in an eternal struggle with knives stabbed into the other, there were several canines, but they weren't Vargus or Petrus who looked exactly like his father.

Marty looped around the back of the fountain where there were several more bodies. Again, they weren't Vargus and Marty breathed out a shaky sigh of relief. He had searched all the bodies in the compound.

Even surrounded by all this death, Marty felt happy. It was a twisted sort of happiness, but it helped lift some of the weight from his shoulders.

"They had to have made it," Marty said to himself. There weren't any bodies of paladins which meant they got out as well and they would have protected those with them. He had witnessed their abilities before and he was convinced that once out of the compound, no one else with them would have died.

But now the question was, what to do now? Marty understood that as far as the rest of the world was concerned, he was dead. The survivors here would attest for that and surely the The mad Symphony of Blades would make sure the world knew it as well.

Obviously he still had to fix his ship and get off the planet. That was priority number one. It always had been. He needed parts and as far as he knew, only the Merchants had what he needed, but that couldn't be true. They and everyone who seems to know more about the truth of this planet had it in their heads that he had to kill Aetin, but Marty had thoughts of his own.

"Fuck'em," Marty said. "Fuck them and their stupid prophetical dissolutions." He had been a follower for too long, banking on the words of those that obviously could not even keep their own act together. How could he rely on them again. Marty decided that it was time to forge his own path, independent of all others.

Felix returned to find Marty back by Morgan's body. He was rummaging through the satchel that was by the body.

"How do glamours work?" Marty asked when he noticed the cat come back.

Felix knew, but had to take a second to remember the details. "It's a potion. You drink it and think hard about the form you want to take and then it happens I guess. Why?"

Marty pulled out a clear vial filled with a murky liquid. "The world thinks I'm dead. I'm going to keep it that way." He popped open the vial and downed the liquid. It was bitter, but not revolting. He then began to think about what he wanted to appear like. A dozen things came up in his head, but one thing popped out the most.

Felix cocked his head sideways at the new Marty.

"When I was a boy, I didn't have a ton of friends." Marty explained. "Except for this stray cat I used to feed scraps. He was this dirty little thing that I had earned the trust of. I could always rely on him. Maybe that's why I let you hang around me so much."

Marty looked down at his hands, or rather paws. They were white and then turned to a silvery gray. They still felt like hands to him and he couldn't feel any fur since it was only an illusion. He looked behind him and there was a tail, that he could control, but again he couldn't actually feel it. He reached up and felt his face and he felt his skin, but he knew that it was a feline face, grey with black stripes on the forehead.

"That's not going to last very long," Felix reminded Marty. He was also trying to decide if he liked the new like or not. By most standards, this Marty would be average and draw no special attention. Probably for the better, he figured.

"We'll figure out something," he told Felix and took the satchel and put the strap over his shoulder. "As for now..." he stopped and looked at Felix.

"Hmm?" Felix wondered why Marty had stopped mid sentence.

"The world thinks I'm dead. What does that mean for you?" Marty asked, suddenly afraid in a selfish way. "Does that make you free?"

"Something like that," Felix shrugged. He had no intention of leaving, even if Marty were to ask him to go and make a new life. "So, what are we waiting for? We should get going to... uhh... where?"

"No clue," Marty smiled. Their future was in their hands now. He actually couldn't care less about how fucked up the world was with its war and politics or the Fel. Oh, it was absolutely selfish of him, but after all that had happened, he didn't care anymore. Just him and Felix now.

Felix tapped his chin in thinking. "I have heard rumor that relics are known to exist across the ocean in the lands there. I think the place is called Lutharia or something. We'll need to pay for passage on a ship."

"It's a start then," Marty could already see a brighter future.

--

Elsewhere in the city, Vargus clutched his son tightly to his chest as he ran. He ignored the pain in his side that was warm and moist. He had no weapon anymore, it had been dropped a long time ago.

He hadn't seen anyone friendly for sometime now. It had turned out that the Heretics had an army waiting and were now laying siege to the city. They were no doubt attacking other Guild States that had valuable resources as well. The era of neutrality was gone.

Vargus had to dodge soldiers by weaving in and out of buildings or sidestepping into alleys to avoid being seen. But now that he was far away from the combat, he could finally rest for a bit and mourn.

He stepped off the street and onto the sand. His journey had taken him to the water.

He loosened his grip and looked at his son. The fur was matted and messed with small curls forming from the lack of brushing. Vargus did his best to undo the knots, but couldn't, not with his hands shaking so much.

"I promise you," he whispered and then kissed his son's forehead. "I promise that I will find everyone responsible for this and make them pay."

He tried to take a breath in, but it got caught in his throat. He held onto the breath instead and walked out into the water until it was at his waist, Petrus' toes were submerged.

Vargus could still remember the madman's face as he did it. Not smiling on the outside, but he could see the pleasure in his eyes.

Vargus had done his best, he had taken up shield and sword to defend his blood, but it had not been enough. It had not been enough.

Vargus loosened his grip more and leaned forward into the water, letting it take Petrus. A single wound to the chest from which blood pooled into the water. He didn't suffer, but he did not deserve it either.

The body floated easily on the calm salt water.

He looked peaceful. His eyes were closed and his arms laid out as off making angels in the snow. There was no peace though.

Vargus, crying and lungs burning from the breath he still held, gave a gentle push to the body. With no waves to mar him, the body would easily float out to sea.

"I promise." Vargus' mind was set, guided by dark whispers.