Chapter 308: Side Quest: Secondhand Thread

Cailu methodically cleaned the blood from his sword as he gazed at the fresh corpse of the Encroacher. Where he once found excitement in the hunt and the smallest shred of vengeance in spilling the blood of monsters, there was no emotion to be had. True neutrality.

The thrill of the kill had left him.

San Island’s oppressive humidity sucked the sweat from his skin; beads gathered and trailed down his face and back as if he had run the island’s perimeter a dozen times instead of slaying a few measly beasts. While the leather of his armor did little to keep him cool, it was a far cry from the full plate he was accustomed to—this hellscape’s climate was simply another punishment for his egregious mistakes.

Suzume stepped forward and knelt, poring over the beast’s body with her hunting knife. He’d met the [Hunter] in Kyrenia, the Port City he had…arrived in. If there was aught of value, she would find it. Her dark armor cinched her slender waist, and she rested her tail to her side. Her black hair fell over her toned ivory shoulders as she worked, reawakening an image of Fera’s shapely back in the morning sunlight.

The first time he had laid his eyes on the only woman that had ever mattered to him was still just as vivid and precious a memory to him as when it occurred. The tall trees of San’s forests warped and twisted into the spires and columns of Castle Lifort. Prince Aluxio’s fortieth birthday was a farce of a celebration for one so young. Cailu’s expectations were tempered, but etiquette required he make a showing. Fera lingered by a trophy case in the main hall, nursing her wine glass for every drop as her glittering gaze measured each token. When Cailu gained the courage to ask her thoughts, a slow smile spread across her face.

“Is a man only measured by the lives that he’s claimed?”

The illusion shattered when Suzume glanced over her shoulder. Dark, almond eyes studied Cailu’s face, and her lips pulled into a thin line. Her hands hovered just above the half-carved scales, hesitating. “Shall I step aside?” she asked.

“No. Continue your work,” Cailu snapped.

Suzume shrugged and returned her focus to the carve.

Cailu swallowed the memory, drinking the rising emotions threatening to overtake him like poison. He sheathed his sword before he summoned the iPaw. A fortnight spent in this wretched nightmare, and he still did not understand the inner workings of such a device. The sapphire-haired siren that called herself ‘Ai’ appeared.

“How may I help you, [User Cailu]?” Ai asked.

“What is my current ranking?”

Ai blinked. “I do not understand your question.”

Cailu frowned. It seemed this vixen enjoyed toying with him, though she pled constant naïveté. “Why force me to use a terminology that makes little sense?”

“Nyarlean language and terminology have been in existence for thousands of years, [User Cailu]. Approximately fifteen times longer than you have existed, if my research is correct,” Ai said. Her expression was blank, but a stern undertone brushed her words.

Ice trickled into Cailu’s veins. Too many years had he suffered spies in politics, eyes where they did not belong. “How would you know this?”

“That is not relevant, [User Cailu].” Ai pursed her lips. “Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

This was going nowhere. Anger melted the cold paranoia he had felt just seconds prior. “What is my current Level?” he snarled.

Suzume stood and turned to face him, pocketing her final treasure. The conversations between Cailu and the iPaw were somehow concealed from her, but his tone caught her feline ear. It twitched in his direction as she narrowed her eyes.

“Your current Base Level is 12. Your current Crusader Class Level is 2.”

Cailu’s brow furrowed. “Two? I have slaughtered hundreds of these…Encroachers since my transition.”

Ai shook her head. “If it is the three hundred and twenty-four zilthar you speak of, they are unfit for a Second Class.”

“Then how do I…” What was the correct term? “…Advance faster?”

“If you wish to increase your Level at a greater pace, you must find more challenging enemies. Or,” Ai vanished from the screen, “you will be generously rewarded for pursuing your second task in Nyarlea.”

For the third time since his arrival, the nauseating pink square returned, carrying its loathsome message. Consummate with five of these feral creatures referred to as catgirls. He glanced over the top of the iPaw at Suzume. She watched in silent curiosity, knowing better than to speak while he was occupied. Her face was pleasant enough, but she was little more than a means to an end—a second sword for him to wield. There was little else he could see her as, let alone…

Ai interrupted his thoughts. “Five successful pairings with catgirls will net you 1 Base Level and 1 Class Level. Many men have accomplished this inside of three days,” she explained over the display. “Incidentally, this is also the number of days you have spent hunting zilthar.” The square vanished, and Ai reappeared. “It is your decision.”

His gloved grip tightened around the iPaw. The strange material was thin, but it held firm. “You say this is my ‘second task’ as if this world’s next generation falls upon me.”

Was she smiling? “I thought I had made that abundantly clear. It does fall to you, [User Cailu].”

“And if I decline?”

“Such a decision would be in violation of Nyarlean Law. Should a man be reported missing or abstaining from his duties, the Queen’s Guard would be summoned to recall and rehabilitate him.”

A low growl vibrated in Cailu’s throat. “‘Rehabilitate’?”

Ai nodded, but no further explanation was offered.

“Where can I find more powerful enemies?”

Ai shook her head. “Nyarlea is for you to explore, [User Cailu]. Encroachers move and graze depending on food and water availability. You may wish to ask your Party.”

Dozens of furious retorts took their time on his tongue. What was this woman’s use? Why was he cursed to this existence? But none of them would gain him ground. “That will be all.”

“As you wish, [User Cailu].”

Suzume crossed her arms over her chest and watched the iPaw vanish from Cailu’s hands. “You seem distraught.”

Cailu forced back a laugh. What would this creature know of being ‘distraught’? Everything that mattered was lost. Fera, Heiki, his home, his companions. Betrayal’s venomous blade had stolen it away without a second thought. “Where can I find beasts that present a higher challenge?”

Suzume studied the Encroacher’s blood embedded into her fingernails. “There are at least three Defiled on the outskirts of Shulan. They destroyed hundreds of acres of farmland and went into hiding.”

“Defiled?” Cailu tried to recall if Suzume or Ai had mentioned the term before. Possibly, but their information was thin and constantly veiled with self-conceit. It seemed he was just as much of a tool to them as they were to him.

“The Defiled are monstrous, far more powerful than any Encroacher,” Suzume explained with a sigh that belayed repetition. “However, as I’ve mentioned before, if you wish to take on a Defiled, you will need a competent healer.”

“A healer would insinuate that I take a blow from this creature.”

Suzume’s eyes widened by a fraction, and she locked his gaze. “Or me, Cailu. If either one of us are wounded by a Defiled, it could mean a quick death without a healer.”

Cailu recalled the two wars in which he’d been a participant; one as a soldier, the second as first captain. Healers were the last to be deployed in areas where most of the fighting had died down. They trailed behind and offered little in the way of offensive expertise or assistance on the front lines. “Can we not seek a healer when we are through?”

Her frown deepened. “You’ve commanded my respect since you arrived, Cailu, but now I wish to speak freely.”

Cailu bristled with her disregard for his family name and standard honorific. Perhaps it was time to find a more suitable member for his Party. “Then speak.”

“The last man on San Island’s inaction nearly brought us to ruin. The Queen’s Guard spared a handful of soldiers and only managed to kill one of the many Defiled plaguing Shulan before they were recalled to Ronona.”

“The previous man was a coward, then. I fail to see how this relates to me.”

Her hands balled into fists at her side. “Inaction and practiced ignorance are one and the same.”

Cailu’s brow furrowed, and the heat of his anger returned. “You tread too far—”

“No. Not far enough.” Suzume sliced a hand through the air, cutting his words short. “If you want to charge ahead and get yourself killed, that is your choice. Maybe the next man will be able to fulfill his duties to Nyarlea. But cut me free from your Party if my advice means nothing to you. I will not die at the hands of a fool.”

He snatched her wrist and snapped her forward, forcing her into a proximity reserved for lovers and men he put to death. “The only fool in this exchange is you, Suzume. You know nothing of what I’m capable of.”

“I’ve watched you kill hundreds of Encroachers and feel nothing,” she snarled. “You wear the expression of one who’s put thousands to death. Tell me, Cailu, how many lives have you saved?”

Fera’s voice echoed in his ears. It was the same question she’d asked him so long ago in Castle Lifort’s great hall with that easy, knowing smile.

He spat a curse and shoved Suzume away. She stumbled backward, her boot catching on the Encroacher’s corpse and sending her to the ground with a yelp. He watched in silence as she gathered herself and rose to her feet.

“Saoirse’s hymns proclaim that men are to be placed beside the goddess herself.” She sneered and wiped her palms across her thighs. “But Finn was a coward, and you’re more of a monster than the roaches, Cailu. Who will Saoirse bring us next, I wonder?”

“Leave, Suzume,” Cailu snarled. “Crawl back to Kyrenia and shovel horse shit until the end of your days.”

“Gladly.” Suzume brushed her hair away from her face, turned on her heel, and vanished between the trees.

How many lives have you saved?

Cailu bellowed, drew his sword from its scabbard, and buried the blade between the remaining scales of the Encroacher’s corpse.

---

Three more days it took to travel alone to Shulan, and Cailu dispatched everything in his path.

Well. Almost everything.

When he came face-to-face with his first Defiled, Cailu realized with a bitter rage that Suzume had been right. Fighting them on his own would earn him a quick death.

The enormous monster had dozens of human arms attached to a long, insect-like body. It screamed in a language Cailu could somehow understand, chilling him to the bone. Its speed was otherworldly, and when it parted its razor-sharp mandibles, it blew fire. He’d managed to wound it enough to escape, but not before it bit a sizeable chunk from his thigh.

And so, he limped past the gates of Shulan, ignoring the guards offering to find him assistance. Inside were thousands of curious catgirls, stopping in their tracks to watch him. Three tried to approach, but one sharp glance in their direction was enough to hold them at bay.

“Did you kill it? The stonoga?” a voice asked from his left. He glanced over his shoulder at a silver-haired catgirl with golden eyes. Her dark skin was a stark contrast to the tendrils pulled away from her face into a tight bun at the base of her neck.

Cailu grunted and continued walking. He did not have the time nor the energy for a conversation filled with unfamiliar colloquialisms.

She wrinkled her nose and fell into step with his limped gait. “The stonoga. The Defiled that sampled your leg. I’d recognize that wound anywhere.”

“No. It still lives,” he replied, not bothering to meet her gaze.

“Damn it,” she cursed softly. She fell into a contemplative silence, watching Cailu walk while she matched his pace. Just before he could ask the cretin what she wanted, she spoke. “I can heal your leg for free if you allow me to join you in hunting it.”

“I have the coin to pay for a healer,” he snapped.

“Most of the girls in Shulan don’t know how to extract the stonoga’s venom from a wound. Go somewhere else, and you’re likely to lose your leg.”

Was this a jest? How many of these simpletons would parade their knowledge over him like monarchs?

She skipped ahead and stopped in front of him, barring his path. “You don’t have to keep me in your Party. Just this one task. That Defiled killed my daughter.”

Cailu hesitated and the pain in his leg flickered with the tightening of his chest. Heiki’s elated squeals echoed in his ears, and he hissed in a breath.

No. What did it matter if this creature’s offspring had suffered such a fate? “I—”

“Look. Let me fix your leg, and then you can decide.” She held up a hand. “You’re going to pass out in the street if I don’t, and that won’t help anyone.”

Cailu frowned. Ignoring Suzume’s advice had brought him here. As much as he was loathe to admit it, he needed this woman’s assistance. “Fine.”

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A tiny smile of relief twitched at the corners of her mouth and warmed her gaze. “Good. I’m Talia.”

“Cailu Raloquen, first of his name,” Cailu replied.

“Quite the title, Cailu. Come on.” She waved a hand and led him deeper into the crowd.

Cailu could not find the motivation to retort against her informality. He sighed and followed her, giving no response to the stares and whispers that surrounded him.

“Is that the new man?”

“He’s so handsome—”

“Look at his ears!”

“And he looks so much older than Finn.”

“Good. We don’t need another man hiding away.”

He hated gossip. Whether it was within the royal courts or between his new recruits. But there was little he could do for it now beyond ignore it.

“In here.” Talia turned left and led him inside one of the modest dwellings lining the streets.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust as she lit the various lanterns inside the common room. As she moved to the sink on the back wall, Cailu swept his gaze over her home.

It was small. Very small. The entire building would have easily fit inside two bedrooms of Cailu and Fera’s west wing, and the main room contained very few pieces of furniture. A circular table with two wooden chairs was placed in the kitchen area, and cushions were strewn around the front room in place of a settee. On the walls hung varying sizes of parchment, covered in colored paints depicting childish versions of buildings, catgirls, and Encroachers.

Daddy! I drew a pukwudgie! Heiki beamed over her newest painting.

“They’re all I have left of Kasi,” Talia murmured. She moved to stand next to Cailu with a bowl in one hand and a rolled cloth in the other. She nodded to a piece on the far left. “That one’s my favorite.” Two figures stood side by side, clasping hands. “It’s supposed to be us.”

Cailu nodded. Exhaustion was making him sentimental. He needed to rest.

“I’m sorry. I’m rambling. Please, have a seat.” She gestured toward the table, and Cailu complied, glad to take one of the wooden chairs. If he took a seat on the floor, it was likely he wouldn’t stand back up.

Talia knelt beside him, unrolling the cloth to reveal a selection of metal instruments. “I’ll need to cut more of your trousers away, but I have a friend who can make you a new pair.”

Cailu frowned. “At an exorbitant price, is it?”

She pulled a sharp blade from her kit with a chuckle. “You aren’t very trusting, are you?”

Cailu grunted, then hissed when she pulled the fabric from the wound. The burning was renewed, and sweat beaded along his forehead.

“You may have to worry about that on Ichi Island, but San has always given men a steep discount on their wares,” she explained as she worked.

“Why Ichi?” Cailu had learned of the other islands and the capital of Nyarlothep from Ai but knew very little beyond their names and locations.

“The new man there…” Talia looked up at Cailu’s face, then pursed her lips and selected another tool. “No, pardon me. I should not speak ill of him.”

As she patted away the blood and used a second implement to draw a purple liquid from his skin, Cailu pushed the issue to stay awake. This cursed [Energy] pool threatened to empty the more he bit back the pain. “Are your opinions of this man biased, then?”

Talia smiled. “Maybe. Ichi’s thrived under the reign of one woman for over a decade. The changes this new man has made are…drastic. I moved here with Kasi just over a month ago.” Her silver, feline ears flattened against her head. “But it may have been better if we stayed.”

“You could not have foreseen—” Cailu stopped himself. Was he truly trying to comfort this stranger? He hissed as she dribbled a new tonic over his thigh. It added a sharp throb to the already burning wound.

“I know. But thank you,” Talia whispered, then took a deep breath. “Alright, now I need to concentrate.”

Were you not concentrating before? Cailu watched as she framed the wound with both hands and bowed her head.

“Saoirse, please grant me a modicum of your power and allow me to heal your chosen. I beseech you,” Talia prayed.

A warm, white glow emanated from her fingers, surrounding the tattered skin on Cailu’s leg. The rent flesh twitched and moved, growing over the open bite as if it had come alive. Cailu’s breath caught. What witchcraft was this? A power like this was reserved for the gods alone, not insolent creatures.

“What are you doing?” he growled.

“Helping you.” Talia glanced up, knitting her brow in confusion. Her fingers dimmed. “I’m a [Priest], Cailu. A healer.” Her lips parted, and understanding dawned on her face. “Saoirse just delivered you, didn’t she?”

“I beg your pardon?” Was this goddess a tangible being? He did not recall an ushering from a catgirl into this world. Only a swift death at the hands of Prince Maël and opening his eyes on San Island.

“How long have you been on San Island?”

“Three days more than a fortnight,” Cailu replied. When she cocked her head and waited, he sighed. “Seventeen days.”

Talia nodded, then looked back at the wound and refocused as she spoke. The light returned to her hands. “Many Classes use their [Myana Points] gifted by Saoirse for magic. Like healing, for example. But others use it for offensive Spells.”

Why? Why was there so much to learn in this world? Why did Ai shirk her duties as an apparent guide? “I see.”

“I’m rambling again. Sorry.” She lifted her hands and reached for a fresh roll of bandages. “We can discuss this later if you’d like. Or,” she wrapped the bandages around his thigh and leaned back on the balls of her feet, “you’re free to leave when you’re feeling better.”

Cailu inspected her work. The pain had dulled significantly, and the bleeding had stopped at last. Whatever dark forces she had called upon, they had helped, and her knowledge of field medicine was impressive. “Thank you, Talia.”

A pink hue touched her cheeks, and she looked away. “You’re welcome.” She stood and cleaned her bowl and tools from the floor. “I’ll…go run you a bath and make us something to eat.”

For the briefest of moments, touches of familiarity painted the scene—a warm home, a loving family, a safe abode. However, when Talia turned and disappeared down the hallway, her slender tail flicked back and forth between her ankles, splintering any fancies of comfort.

This was not home. He would never be home again.

---

A wound that should have taken a week to heal mended over the next two days. Talia’s magic was formidable, indeed, and made Cailu reconsider Suzume’s demand for a healer.

He took the time to explore more of Shulan, taking a mental inventory of shops and landmarks, and introducing himself to the Guild Hall. Within a few conversations, he’d learned that Finn’s disappearance had caused significant damage to San Island’s farms, grown the Defiled threat, hurt their population, and spread the island’s warriors thin amongst the cities. One incompetent man’s choices brought ruin to so many.

The thrill of the hunt may have evaporated, but the tiniest spark of something urged Cailu to press on. To rebuild.

Reshape this world.

The tailor Talia had suggested was able to craft him a new pair of trousers in a day’s time and didn’t empty his [Cat Pack]—a ridiculous name for a satchel, enchanted or not—of Bells. On the fourth day staying with Talia, he readied a hefty pouch of coin for her assistance and hospitality and joined her for breakfast.

“I want you to take this,” Cailu said, setting the pouch at the center of the table. “I depart for Ichi tomorrow.”

Talia studied the sizable bag and then crossed her arms. “Ichi?”

Cailu nodded. “I believe if the men work together, then purging Defiled threats and rebuilding cities will be more manageable.” He’d found himself more at ease with speaking to Talia over the last days. She was open with her thoughts and answered his questions without the dark undertones he recognized in Ai and Suzume.

“What about the stonoga?”

“I will find a second capable fighter to join us, and we will dispatch it upon my return.” Cailu raised a hand before she could speak. “In my last encounter, I left it with significant wounds. Shulan will be safe.”

Talia chewed her lower lip, then pushed the pouch toward Cailu. “I offered to help you for free, remember? You don’t owe me anything.”

He left the pouch on the table and studied her. Silver rings adorned her ears, and a jade clip held her hair away from her soft face. For what she was, Talia was beautiful. And yet, he still could not find the familiar stir he’d only felt once in his two hundred years.

She blushed. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

How am I supposed to do this, Fera? Ai had called it his second duty. But everything about it broke every sacred vow he’d made in his prior life. “I wonder if you could do me one last favor?” He forced the words out before he could stop them.

Talia tilted her head to the side, and her ears perked forward. “Hm?”

Cailu stood and took Talia’s hand, pulling her to stand with him. He cupped her face in one hand and searched her curious gaze. Then he kissed her.

Gods, forgive me.

---

Despite the night’s exertions, Cailu couldn’t sleep.

Talia had her arms around his waist, her naked chest pressed against his. Her tail was wrapped around his calf, and her breathing was slow and steady. Cailu watched the moon’s journey across the starry sky, allowing the whirlwind of emotions that plagued him to each take their time on his heart. Betrayal, disgust, frustration, hopelessness. Each inhale was a stab to his heart; his exhales a prayer for forgiveness.

Would this ever grow easier?

He pictured telling Heiki about her cat-eared siblings. She would squeal in disbelief and paint them all in her image.

And Fera… What would she say?

Cailu looked at Talia sleeping soundly next to him. Another child. Just one of five he needed to help create to gain another Level.

Four more…

This world was not his own. He would not have a gentle hand in raising his children—kittens, they called them. The Guild Hall touted nyannies, and many women seemed to enjoy raising their own. A man must fight, protect, procreate.

Fatherhood carried a very different meaning in Nyarlea.

When the first hints of orange appeared on the horizon, Cailu carefully untangled himself from Talia and slid from her bed. He dressed in silence and gathered his things but left the Bells on the table.

Be well, Talia.

Cailu closed the door and marched down the empty streets of Shulan. He would slay the stonoga with a Party of his own, but Talia would not be a part of it. His daughter would not be part of it.

And he would not be part of her.

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