Chapter 252: Book Four – Interlude – Part Two – A World That Could Have Been

It seemed that the world was going to test Fisher and his new vows the moment he walked into Canary. Right up ahead, only a few meters away, stood a gaggle of his guards. Normally, that wouldn’t be anything weird or odd since the junior guards patrolled in groups of three to four. But what was different on this fantastically sunny day was the young Koena nearby. His purple scales shook with intense fear as three pairs of eyes stared at him like he was a piece of meat.  

“Sirs… I… I have to run an errand for Master…” whispered the boy. His voice was rather high-pitched like a girl, and his eyes were oddly beautiful in how the vivid green clashed with his vibrant body. Perhaps that was why he wore a shirt and hole-filled pants that carried the color of emeralds.  

“Master?” repeated the guard on the left. He reached into a pouch and pulled out a piece of paper. After staring at it, he rubbed it against his leather chest plate. Was it dirty? “Jimmy, read this.” 

The guard in the middle snatched the paper. “The Koena known as Myil is hereby sold from Hames Verily to Jimmy. Wait? To me? Really? Me?” Jimmy spoke with such an aggressively happy tone, but the onlooking Fisher didn’t know if that was all a front. Without his armor on and the hood of his cloak pulled up, he was virtually unrecognizable.  

“No! Master wouldn’t do that. Please, I have to do an errand for Master!” 

“Get it through your skull, scaley. You’re talking about your former master. You see, the three of us paid for you… Really, it didn’t even take 300 dupla before that old coot started to have second thoughts. How does it feel to know you’re worth that much? We earn that much in just a week or two, so I guess it kinda sucks knowing anyone can buy you after a few days,” said the last one of the group. Since all three had helmets on, and their voices were eerily similar, it was somewhat difficult to tell them apart.  

But did that matter? To Fisher, it didn’t. Not one bit. He had seen enough, and his already chosen path of advance was more lucent than the cloudless sky. With a deep breath, he started to approach.  

“Master… No… My Master—Aaahhh!!!” The Koena threw his hands down in a tantrum, causing Jimmy to raise his fist. He brought it down on top of Myil’s head, cracking his precious scales. The Koena slammed chin first into the pavement, breaking his chin. Myil's scales were as fragile as delicate glass. He probably suffered from one of the numerous Koena specific diseases that affected the strength of their scales.  

“Can you not get it through your fucking skull?! I’m your Master, now! So show me some fucking respect!!” The pain brutalizing Myil was far and away more than he could handle. He didn’t see Jimmy raise his foot and angle it over his head. The onlookers passing by stopped for a moment to stare but quickly moved on once they realized the incident involved the city guard. Even former slaves turned their heads away, choosing to focus on their own newfound freedom.  

Even though their actions suggested the opposite, quite a few felt for the poor Koena since they had been in that same sport. Perhaps it wasn’t the guard, in their case, anyway, but being on the other end of a beating? Or worse, in some cases, where their master was a fool-hungry gluttony for sadism. Having to fight each other, even to the point of killing to snatch the minuscule amount of food that was supposed to be an incentive to fight… Such scenes of horror were rare, but they were still frequent enough to the point where it wouldn’t be odd to find someone with that past in a room full of a thousand people. Even a place like Canary could hold a few hundred people with that background.

Regardless, the world was a selfish place, and there wasn’t a rule that stated one had to look out for strangers.  

“Do it, Jimmy! Crack that skull wide open! Show him what happens when he doesn’t respect us! You fucking slave! Hey, we should force him to sleep out in the barns. No doubt living with the cow shit is just what this little bitch needs. Right? Hahaha!!!” 

“What the fuck are you three doing?!” Fisher kicked his leg out, slamming it into Jimmy’s raised foot. He lost the balance, and the guard with a heart of black tumbled to the ground in a dizzy spin. His lackeys to the left and right were quick to draw their blades but were frozen stiff when they realized who their target was after his hood fell down.  

“Capt—Captain Fisher!” they said in unison. At once, they helped Jimmy to his feet and gave a poor salute. Fisher quietly shook his head and took out a health potion from his Dimensional Storage. The red vial landed in front of the quivering Koena. He heard it bonk against the ground, then stared up. His eyes were drowsy and teary, weak and pathetic. The blood had started to mix with his tears, so it looked like he was crying the crucial crimson every mortal needed.  

“Drink it. That’s an order,” commanded Fisher, only continuing when he saw the Koena bring the vial to his lips. Fisher then turned to the three guards and demanded an explanation.  

Jimmy found it challenging to speak, but he finally explained that the Koena was his property. He even displayed the deed as if one would show off a priceless heirloom.  

“Legality. Morality. Pick one,” Fisher said. He crossed his arms and disapprovingly stared at his men. He didn’t even care that people were stopping and staring.  

Jimmy thought the two choices were odd. Even more so was the lack of context behind them. It took him a hot second before he enthusiastically blurted out what he thought was the correct answer. “Legality, sir! If it’s legal, we should do it! If there was something we shouldn’t do, it would be illegal. So if it’s legal, it means we’re free to do whatever.” 

“According to the church, the strong has control over the weak. Is that right? For the strong to enslave the weak?” 

“Yes! It is! I’m a proud believer!” 

“Very well… I’ll give you 500 dupla for that contract,” said Fisher. “I want to buy your slave.” 

“Five hundred?!?!?! Captain—” 

“Yes or no. Take it or leave it.” Fisher cut off Jimmy, who nodded so fast his loose-fitting helmet nearly came off. Fisher took out the money and completed the trade. He read the contract from top to bottom, disappointingly shook his head…and ripped it into a hundred little pieces.  

“Captain?! What the hell?!” exclaimed the filth to the left of Jimmy. He even started to berate his commanding officer. “You just wasted your hard-earned money!!” 

“If you know what’s good for you, then shut your mouth. Don’t question what you don’t understand.” 

“Like hell! What the fuck did you do? Don’t you realize that this shit stain is weak? He doesn’t have the strength the Gods and Goddesses need! He can't offer any worthwhile worship or prayers.” This time, it was Jimmy who spoke up. Harsh stress caressed his cheeks. It was like his brain couldn’t fathom any reason why someone would willingly spend money to effectively free a slave.  

Really, that act of insubordination was all Fisher needed to act and still be in the right. He did have a reputation for being a harsh, cruel trainer, and what better place to put that to use than right now.  

He glared down at Jimmy, who seemingly finally understood the words flowing from his mouth. The anger vanished from his face, being replaced by an apologetic expression of fear. “No, Captain! I—I didn’t mean—” 

“As your commanding officer, I hereby banish you three from the guard. It is clear your attitude is not what the fair city of Canary needs. You—” 

“THAT’S BULLSHIT!!!” The one that had spoken the least instantly shouted out. “Do you know how hard we worked to get here? And you’re choosing a fucking slave over three guards? You son of a bitch!!!” He pulled back an arm and formed a fist, but Fisher had more than a decade of experience. He saw the attack come and effortlessly dodged to the right. His right hand flashed forward, chopping his opponent in the throat. As he gasped for air, Fisher finished his foe off with a quick takedown. He grabbed his opponent’s arm and dragged him forward. At the same time, he used his legs to kick his shins and pushed him backwards. He landed with a hefty thud—his head slamming against the hard ground— the air escaping out through his gasped mouth.  

Without missing a beat, Fisher turned his sight to Jimmy, who was frozen and paralyzed for but a moment. Seeing his friend go down hard and violently spurred him to fight, even if his foe was his very captain. He charged forward, diving at Fisher’s legs in an attempt to tackle him to the ground. Like a stone monument, Fisher remained standing and even kicked Jimmy away. His foot caught his chin, causing his brain to rattle around his skull.  

That wasn’t enough to deter Jimmy. Even while suffering a concussion, he stood up and tossed out a pathetically weak punch. Fisher sidestepped it and used Jimmy’s momentum to flip him to his back. A final yelp of pain signified the end of the short battle.  

The third guard, the one that produced the contract in the first place, looked at his fallen friends and begged his captain for forgiveness.  

“There is none,” he curtly replied. “You three are banished from the guard. Don’t even think about returning your gear because if I see you again…” He retrieved his sword and slid the blade’s flat surface across Jimmy’s pained face. “I’ll kill you…” That was a threat, and a threat it was. Fisher had to tap into his former experience as the Demi-Reaper to growl that one out. It was a good thing he was both looking down and had his back to the people watching this go down. He didn’t know what kind of terrorizing expression blanketed his face.  

He forcibly produced a false smile to wash the aggressiveness away, then turned back to the groaning Koena after sheathing his weapon. From behind, he heard the third guard let loose a series of grunts. No doubt he was trying to pull his two friends away. A quick glance confirmed that.  

Fisher stared for a moment at the Koena, then helped Myil to his feet because he was still struggling to stand. The poor lad stared through bloody eyes and shivered. He acted like a dog that had been abused all his life. One that wasn’t ever shown a gram of love or friendship.  

“Sirs… Master… Sirs…” repeated the poor boy.  

“Do you know what it means now that I’ve torn your deed? You don’t belong to no one. You’re a free man, now. The next—” Fisher stopped dead in his tracks since his eyes caught the sight of a cute Singi. Her pink hair fluttered in the wind, and the black-haired girl she held hands with was staring at him, with the former being the only one smiling. They were standing in front of the growing audience that was slowly amassing itself. The onlookers whispered to each other in hushed tones, each one trying desperately to understand what was going on.  

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The Singi just stared, but her mouth moved to give thanks to Fisher and his intervention. Fisher read her lips, then she tilted her head towards Myil. Fisher looked down and held in his gasp. The black bracelet—the one item that virtually every slave had attached to their wrist that signified them as mere property—had vanished like a breath in the wind. And the wounds the Koena suffered from had started to heal.  

He gave her a nod, watched her leave with her best friend at her side, and turned his attention back to the still frightened Koena.  

“Look at your arm,” Fisher said.  

“What?! How? Sirs? I—I don’t…understand...” A horde of emotions washed over Myil. Being a slave was all that he had ever known. He was always someone’s property. In one case, someone’s display piece because his scales glittered in just the right way.  

But what was sadder was the fact that Myil had never seen the part of his arm covered by the bracelet. When his arms grew, it was time to get a new one, but he was forbidden from watching the transfer. He audibly gasped while staring at a nearly white spot on his wrist where sunlight had never had a chance to bless.

And there was the abuse… A loving touch? Myil didn't know what ‘love’ was. And a touch that didn’t leave him afraid, scared, hurt, or disgusted? Could something even exist? His interpretation of ‘kindness’ had been warped and twisted, so how would Myil survive if he had to be kind to someone? 

“If the bracelet is gone…then what—What do I do? Master didn’t want me… Sirs, what do I do?! Sirs?!?!” A nervous breakdown followed as the poor boy started to weep.  

“You have to live,” whispered Fisher. He leaned in close and gave the poor boy a hug he so desperately needed. Myil’s frail little body shivered like a naked Dwarf in the middle of a snowstorm. “No one has the right to assert ownership over another. No one… Not me, not them, not you, and not even the Gods. You have a chance to do what you want… Go to the church on buncombe street… Better yet, I’ll take you myself… There’s a Kobold there who can help you…” Fisher pulled back and stared down at his former guards.  

Actions speak louder than words, and while they started it, I did beat my men to effectively free a slave… Even if I did buy and rip up the contract. But I’m ready to face any consequences… From angry families or a pissed-off church, let them come. Itarr… Thank you for absorbing his bracelet…  

 Fisher faced the crowd, which instantly reminded him of when he and Arnold were abusing a Singi and her brother. It was that little incident that really got things started. Servi was in attendance, and her first impression of Fisher was that he was an awful man who laughed at the expense of others. The chuckle he gave that time was forced and fake, but the damage was done all the same because he was a weak man who couldn't stand up to Arnold.

He turned away from the audience and started to walk away. When Myil didn’t follow, Fisher had to double back, grab his wrist, and then walk while pulling him.  

“How is it being free?” Fisher finally asked after walking for about fifteen minutes. He really didn’t know what to say, but he figured that was a good enough start. And he let go of Myil’s wrist, who finally started to move on his own.   

“Sirs… I don’t know what ‘free’ is… I’m sorry, I am unable to answer that…” Myil kept his bloody head angled towards the ground. It was like he was afraid to glance up, even for the smallest second.  

“That's what you have to find out for yourself. The man I’m taking you to see can help with that,” Fisher replied. He waited for Myil to say something in response, but he remained as quiet as a mouse during the rest of their journey. The audience they had left behind wasn’t following at all, and after a certain point, no one around him knew what Fisher had done.  

I wonder if Itarr had anything to do with that? If she could stop two people, no doubt she could prevent a whole crowd from moving… 

Help to be…free? Sirs, I don’t understand…Do I want to be…free? Master… Why don’t you want me anymore…? I need a master… Sirs… 

When Fisher and Myil arrived at the church, they saw a crouching girl outside doing a bit of weed eradication around a lovely garden that definitely wasn’t there the last time he was here. She turned around when she heard a set of footsteps, and her face blossomed into an expression of happiness.   

“Captain Fisher! Father Melk mentioned he thought you would probably swing by,” said the girl with an oddly positive tone. He didn’t recognize her, but she obviously knew him. He was a pretty prominent, public-facing figure.  

Melk? I never did get his name, but was the distress that obvious in my face? He even predicted my return? She called him Father Melk, so she must be one of his nuns. It’s good he found help. 

“He did? That’s good. I was afraid of showing up unannounced and being a bother.” 

“A bother? Perish the thought, captain.” The girl waved as if she was swatting something away. “Father Melk isn’t that kind of Kobold. He’s generous to a fault, and he tells everyone that his church is open to anyone that needs it. That includes me, you, and really everyone else.” 

Fisher noted the nun was tri-colored Singi, with black ears, brown hair, and a snow-white tail. “Hmm… He mentioned something about helping a girl after she was injured. Would that be you?” 

The catgirl placed her snippers in the nearby basket and stood up.  

The black veil and white bandeau that most nuns wore had been altered to act like the hood of a cloak, meaning it could be pulled down or up. Considering the length of the back of the veil was long enough to reach the middle of her back, it probably should have just been considered a cloak. 

Since she was standing before someone she respected, the girl thought it necessary to reach back and pull it up over her head, taking a few moments to adjust the bandeau and making sure her cute ears poked through the two slits. She really didn’t like having anything around her forehead, so if she were to change the outfit, that would be the first alteration.  

Instead of wearing a habit, the Singi had opted to go a different route that made her a nun in name only. She wore a white, low-cut blouse, which had extra padding for her rather large breasts that also had the side effect of giving her a modest amount of cleavage. That was tucked into a black skirt, which stopped a couple of centimeters above her knees.

The black jacket she wore was sporty and cute, with the sleeves barely coming down past her shoulder. It was slightly pleated at the bottom, and it was a combination of an open-face jacket and a corset, meaning the left and right sides only connected to each other via a couple of intercrossed golden straps. It was made out of something softer than cotton but less expensive as silk, so in the dead of winter, it wouldn’t be that effective at keeping someone warm. There was some color to it, mainly the silver trim around the jacket straps, which added some nice color to an otherwise standard outfit.  

Black tights hugged her legs and thighs, reaching all the way to her hips, and she had on very slightly heeled shoes with a gold band that went over the top of her foot. Perhaps it would be more apt to call them sandals? 

The adorably dressed Singi folded her hands over her stomach and gave a polite bow.  

“Yes, that would be me. My name is Kait, and Father Melk was kind enough to help me—a complete stranger—without asking for anything in return. I was so touched by his kindness that I had a dream about it. When I woke up, I rushed back here in the early morning hours to see if I could help him with anything. He mentioned his need for nuns and priests, but I didn’t know anything about being one. And when he asked about healing herbs and alchemical ingredients, I regretfully shook my head. But he said that was fine, and he was more than happy to pass on his knowledge to me!” Her tail swooshed around, wagging in an excitable manner. “I may not be an official nun, and I’m not recognized by the church, but I’m trying my hardest!" 

“That’s admirable,” replied Fisher.  

“Thank you, sir! In a few years' time, before I’m twenty, I hope to be an official nun!” Kait’s gaze was deterministic, filled with a proud strength. It was a type of strength that the young Koena at his side needed to find within himself. She turned to Myil and smiled like an older sister would. Holding out a hand, she offered a second round of introduction.  

“Ma’ams… Are… Are you sure you want someone like me to touch you…” he asked. One hand attempted to extend, but his other hand forced it to his chest. He made himself seem small and meek, like something that just wasn’t worth anyone’s time. After a small frown, Kait returned her hand to her side and looked puzzled. She turned to Fisher for an answer. He told her an abridged summary of what happened, then explained that Melk was probably the best person to help.  

“I understand that. He’s probably reading over a few documents in the backroom. Follow me, and I’ll take you to him.” Kait picked up her shears and walked into the church with Fisher and a frightened Myil close behind. The captain eyed the confessional booth in the back corner of the room. After his monologue at Sakdu’s grave, the vows he had declared were at the forefront of his busy mind.  

Don’t worry. I still intend to see my promises through. I need to make sure Myil is taken care of first, though.  

Kait led Fisher and a shaking Myil to the back of the church, turning left at the wooden altar. At the far back of that wall stood a swinging door that held no handles. The nun walked through first, then stood to the side and held it open.   

“Father Melk, you have guests,” announced Kait.  

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