Reborn From the Cosmos

Miniarc-Villains-32

Samuel had a dilemma.

His chosen representative to take the weight of his unwanted fame was rapidly becoming unsuitable. After watching Robert maim a second rebel, Kern gathered his courage and tried to stop the young hero. Samuel suspected that he was indeed nervous about facing the future Harvest Hero alone, as he tried to enlist the help of others.

First, he tried to rally the other acolytes, but Grahm blocked his efforts. The group seemed divided on which of the men were correct, resulting in endless back and forth between them. When Kern got frustrated trying to persuade them, he tried to enlist the help of the hunters. His words fell on deaf ears. The men had no doubts about what the rebels deserved. They enthusiastically assisted Robert in meting out punishment, barking threats at the rebels that shifted or pleaded for mercy.

Finally, Kern decided to take action himself, regardless of his chances, but the hunters blocked him, four men stepping forward to bar his way to Robert. At the same time, others stepped forward to hasten the process. Kern was forced to walk away from the violent scene with his fists clenched at his sides and a tight scowl on his face.

All the workers witnessed the scene while stacking bodies. Samuel was right that they didn’t want to leave the dead behind, not even their enemies. Their reasons were rational as well as sentimental; if the bodies were left alone, they’d attract scavengers, as beasts and monsters had no problem entering the city with its compromised walls. As many of the wagons were still empty, the dead were placed in them to be taken to the camp for a proper burial.

Usually, Kern would have volunteered for such a role. Every time Samuel caught sight of the man the previous day, he was in the thick of the work. If not hauling bodies, the prince would have expected him to be helping the injured, as there were plenty of scrapes that needed bandaging.

Instead, his chosen leader was off pouting. It was an unfair summation of the man’s mood, given the circumstances, but Samuel’s heart desired to be critical. The only thing that could take the people’s attention off him was something shinier, so to speak. The prince had hoped the man’s connections amongst the refugees and his larger-than-life energy would be enough to smother Samuel’s adolescent legend, but now, at the most important moment, the hero Samuel needed had less presence than a wet rag.

His plan was doomed…unless he decided to change targets. Robert had certainly made a spectacle of himself. From the whispers the prince had picked up, opinion was in favor of the hard stance he’d taken against the rebels. The workers didn’t have much sympathy for the people that tried to kill them. They weren’t coming down on Kern too hard for his attempt at leniency, but Samuel was dismayed to hear them whisper words like “naive” and “softhearted”. In contrast, they used words like “tough” and “responsible” when discussing Robert.

He wasn’t their hero yet, but he’d certainly made an impression. Samuel wasn’t sure if it was enough to drown out his own. If it didn’t work, he would only be drawing more attention to himself by tying his name to such a sensational event.

He decided against it while watching Robert chase away the rebels with the hunters, pushing them away and giving them kicks in the backside when they didn’t move fast enough. With the way he was going, Samuel was sure that the fledgling hero would make an even greater spectacle of himself. Hopefully, that would be enough.

Samuel was done with them: the refugees, the rebels, and the rest of the problems developing in the city. He was done worrying; his plans had been dashed so there was nothing to do but pray. Samuel swore to himself that this was the last day he would have anything to do with Quest, working with a rare eagerness to return to the Hall as fast as possible.

“Please, your highness.”

As the group was preparing to return to the camp, hours earlier than they should have, a man approached him and his retinue. He was unassuming in stature, shorter than Samuel by a head with thin shoulders that bordered on delicate. The white strip of cloth tied around his upper arm suggested that he was one of the hunter-guards, but his demeanor was shifty; he kept looking around skittishly, like a deer checking for predators between the trees.

“Could I walk with you for a moment?”

Ewan stepped forward, ready to chase him off, but Samuel stopped him with a raised hand. There was something…off about the man. The prince realized it was his eyes. They didn’t match his anxious nature, meeting Samuel’s gaze without flinching in the scant moments he paused his incessant checking of his surroundings.

“No offense to you, but this simply isn’t done. If you wish to accompany me, you’re going to need a good reason.”

“I wish to speak to you. About…” Another furtive glance to either side, like a child checking for carriages before crossing a road. “About what happened earlier.”

“…that’s a good reason. Come.”

As the man stepped forward, Ewan moved closer, putting himself at Samuel’s shoulder. With nothing but his glare, the knight directed the man to his other side, making himself an obstacle if the stranger had evil intentions. The nervous man took his designated place without complaint, his head lowered as he kept pace with them.

“Before you say anything, know that I can’t protect you,” Samuel started. He figured the man was about to rat on the rebels in exchange for a pardon. While Samuel could have done it, or at least argued strongly on his behalf, he refused. The only reason he was bothering to listen to the man at all was on the off chance he had relevant information, Samuel could pass it to Alyssa. Anything less would be irresponsible but he wasn’t obliged to do anything more.

“I don’t need protection.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. After today, the camp is going to be much harsher in its methods to root out rebels.”

“We’re not rebels!” the man hissed while wringing his hands.

“You’re fighting against the established order. If that’s not rebellious, what is it?”

“We just wanted to take care of ourselves and our families. That’s why we took the food. Is that so bad? There wasn’t enough for everybody so why shouldn’t it go to the people who really care about the city? People who aren’t going to let bastards like the—" The man paused, briefly looked up to Samuel, and swallowed the rest of his sentence. The prince wondered if he was about to curse the crown before thinking better of it.

“If you’re here to convince me of your rhetoric, you’re wasting both our time.”

“I just want you to know the truth. We stole from the camp, but we planned it so that no one would get hurt.”

“People got hurt.”

“Not by us!” the man insisted. “And no one was supposed to get hurt today. This was a demonstration. We wanted people to listen to us. To know the truth. We’re the ones that were hurt but we’ve got no control of our lives. We need to be escorted to salvage our own homes? Ridiculous. And what about the field full of food we’re not allowed to touch? All we want are the seeds, of which the Hall has plenty. We should be planting as fast as we can, wherever we can. Everyone should be able to eat three meals a day without worry, but we’re still rationing because the Hall won’t let us cultivate the plants. They’re purposely keeping the field small so that they can control us through our stomachs.”

It was only common sense to keep supplies from the enemy, but it was also true that innocents suffered because of it. Samuel could understand the rebels’ dissatisfaction and the logic behind the accusation was faultless. He wondered if while they were griping about the conditions they were enduring if they ever admitted that it was caused by their own hands. “So, your response is terrorizing people simply trying to get on with their lives?”

“We just wanted them to listen. The only thing we have is our numbers, but we’re divided. One man was silenced so we came as a group, to talk.”

“You brought that nasty smoke to talk?” Who would believe that? That was too much preparation.

“Those were meant to cover our escape if the hunters tried to arrest us. If the talks broke down, we were going to throw them and run. It was supposed to stop any violence before it began. But then someone summoned that fire and spells started flying.”

“You mean the fire wasn’t you?”

The man grit teeth. “Of course not! It had nothing to do with us. On top of that, these people threw the first spell. They killed one of us. Who wouldn’t defend themselves in that situation? But my friends are the ones being called rebels and being ripped apart by crazy people. Something isn’t right here. We were set up and I don’t think anyone cares to get to the bottom of it. Please, your highness. I think…I think we’re in trouble. All of us.”