Chapter 9 - Mercenaries of Burrya

A caravan is soon to arrive at the capital of Maltrex, with the two people riding it finally being able to make out the west gateway in the distance.

The person who sits in the coachman’s seat and holds the reins is named Figura. And because of the unique Armament -- the manifestation of a Deity’s blessing -- they carry, Figura can be male or female.

The current Figura is male, in their early twenties, with strands of hair covering their eye and the rest pulled back in a headband and bun. They wear a simple civilian outfit, and a pleasant smile on their face to match.

The second person in the caravan is a brawny man named Luka. Mid-thirties and with a large muscular build, jet-black hair, grey eyes, and a short stubble of a beard. He wears a fine leather suit, lazing at the wagon’s rear alongside his clinking alcohol crates, his resting angry face on. “Conquerors, traveling all the way from one territory to another, without the use of the Auralis Gates? Fucking unheard of. Not even the Nation Elite does things this foolish. Why the hell did we go from Burrya’s capital all the way here without using the Labyrinth?”

Figura is driving. “Apparently, the people of Maltrex hold serious grudges toward anything Auralis Gate-related, be it the Conquerors, Nation Elite, or even the Labyrinth. How strange that they haven’t started the Labyrinth’s exploration.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve avoided the Labyrinth for travel. I’m running out of my goddamn liquor.”

“Kyahaha~, it’s okay, Luka. I’m sure that Rosebell will have enough breweries for you.”

“It fucking better.”

Silence passes, with only the wheels making noise along the dirt. Luka pops open a cork and takes a swig, his resting irritated face changing into a blissful one.

“Speaking of which, why did you even take this job?”

His expression rapidly jumps to being sour. “Shut up, Figura. I’m drinking.”

“I love you too.”

“I’m about to cave your face in.”

Figura activates their Armament, shattered reality extending, retracting, and making a small cut on their hand. Suddenly, Figura has taken female form. “You would raise your hand at a defenseless lady? How brutal.”

“Yeah, if they’re my target. Especially if it’s you, Figura, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“It doesn’t make much sense to me either. The king of Burrya put you up to this mission, but you hate me with all your guts. So why take the job?”

“There are few things in is world to garner more love than liquor, suits, and even better battles. King Alger promised me all of this when I accepted this mission. It was at the last moment he added I was going to be paired up with a prick. What a bad joke.”

“Hmmm… Aren’t you also going to ask me why I took the mission?”

“I could care less.”

“Well, I took the mission because I enjoy spending time with you.”

“Being around you makes my liquor go bad.”

“I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about, big boy. Anyways, lay low and drink your liquor all you want. I’ll focus on setting up the stage for the perfect completion.”

“Didn’t you hear anything I said? Good suits, good liquor, and even better battles. If you’re gonna take the lead, when the hell will my battles be?”

“It’s okay. I’ll probably find a few targets for you.”

“Following your orders would be hell. No thanks.”

“Then at the very least, don’t conflict with my movements. We’re on the same side, partner.”

“Whatever.”

“First, let’s scout out Rosebell. The infiltration of the castle will commence after that.”

Before early dawn, Figura and Luka, the mercenaries of Burrya, enter Rosebell.

…

The crowd bustles around me, but my focus is singular -- Leader and I are going to meet the Silas Family. Real Conquerors. If this isn’t a leap toward glory, what is?

Anticipation simmers in my chest as I stand at the center, waving newspapers. “Get your headlines! Latest from the frontlines, secrets of the noble’s scandal! Only one Bronze!”

“Brawler!!”

The shout pierces through the streets, sharp and startling.

A woman is sprinting toward me -- golden hair streaming, eyes shimmering with something between joy and desperation. Her beauty is arresting like she walked out of a goddess’s fever dream, but there’s an air of clumsiness to her movement, like she’s not used to running, or rather -- it’s partly due to her dress.

“Huh? Who are you?” I call, baffled.

She comes to a screeching halt mere inches away, her breath fastening as if she just realized how close she got. Her hands clutch over her restrained mounds, wavering like she’s on the verge of tears. “What do you mean, ‘Who am I?’ It’s me… Leviathan.”

The name hits like a shockwave. My muscles tighten in an inexplicable jolt of recognition. “Leviathan?” I repeat quietly. “A… Deity?”

Her eyes widen, confusion flickering across her face. “What? No, I--”

It’s my past -- roaring. The darkness gone completely unanswered, taking the form of fangs ready to crash down.

“…This is a joke, right?”

“Wh-What are you talking about?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know Ariadne, do you?”

“Ariadne? No, who…?” Her brows furrow with fear in her eyes.

“If you Deities think you’re so sweet, I'll show everyone what the world’s greatest Conqueror can do!”

“It’s impossible!”

“So what if it’s a futile effort?! That’s what makes me soooo great!!”

“I don’t know!” Tears spill over, cascading down her flushed cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Her tears land like miniature anvils, sending reality crashing around me. “You… don’t?” I falter. “But… you ran at me like you’ve known me forever.”

“I… I don’t know,” she whispers. “I saw you and thought… that might be your name.”

My apprehension ebbs as guilt replaces it. She’s terrified, and I’m the one who scared her. Even if she is a Deity, she isn’t Ariadne. Her arrival wasn’t full of malice or intimidation. If anything, she’s another human who mistook me as a dear friend of hers.

Get your act together you animal! Causing nothing violence, leaving wreckage in your way!

“Look, you caught me off guard. Your aura… it’s familiar. Like a punch of déjà vu. I’m barking up the wrong tree. Sorry about that. You? You seem like someone who deserves a free paper.”

She sniffles, looking back with wide, watery eyes. “I thought you were someone I knew too…”

“Maybe not yet. But who’s to say we shouldn’t? Let’s start over.”

“Why should I? You’re worse than the nobles.”

Worse? Oh, now that’s interesting. She turns her back on me -- a bold move. I could admire her all day -- watch the rise and fall of her breath, trace the fine lines of her resentment -- but that’s not nearly as fun as chasing her full attention. In doing so, I catch the stares of passersby. Judgmental glances, loud murmurs. Great. I’m the monster. But I don’t mind them at all. My focus is singular yet again.

“See, the nobles? They wrap themselves in silk and hide behind their castle. They’re cowards in gold. Me? I’m dangerous because I’m proud and don’t back down. I offer something they never could -- conscience. Maybe that makes me worse. But look at me with those beautiful lashes and tell me it doesn’t make me honest. You must have it in your heart to help me forgive myself?”

“For what? Being a brute?” she says, though her eyes haven’t left mine.

“For still mistaking you a goddess. I’m Brawler, purveyor of fine news and champion of the people.”

“I’m Leviathan. Traveling noblewoman.”

“Leviathan,” I repeat, testing the name on my tongue. “It suits you. Got a nice ring to it. Now how about that free paper?”

“I couldn’t possibly.”

“Sure you could. Bigger requests might be too much for your own good. Wild side or not, strange things have happened that way.”

She finally smiles again, a genuine, radiant smile that lights up her face. “You’re… the strange one.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. Stick around, you’ll learn plenty.”

Her eyes -- there’s fire there. Resentment. Fascination. Need.

She studies the paper, then, with an elegant gesture. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”

Before I can respond, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd.

Moments later, she returns with backup.

Trailing behind her is another woman, tall, poised, and forgettable in the kind of way that feels… deliberate. Her presence doesn’t register right away.

Leviathan, now composed, presses a Gold into my palm. “Here. For the newspaper.”

A high price. Too high. But I barely glance at it, because our hands linger -- held just long enough to make it something else. Like the start of a waltz neither of us agreed to, but neither of us are pulling away from. I could pull her in.

Noblewoman or not,

[[Newspaper boy or not…]]

[[He,]] She means trouble.

Realizing our mistake, our eyes flick to her companion.

Leviathan begins, “Oh, this is my best friend Fi--”

“Finley,” the woman corrects, her polite smile holding a certain weight. “Thank you for keeping Leviathan company, Brawler.”

“My pleasure,” I grin. “She’s a lot easier on the eyes than most people I deal with.”

Leviathan flushes. “Oh…”

Finley doesn’t miss a beat. She doesn’t look like much, but something about her sets off a quiet alarm in my head. There’s something about her -- average yet sharp eyes… Nope, only average. Too average. Like someone took a knife and carefully dulled the edges until they didn’t stand out.

I guess I’ve been meeting too many people who shine like fire lately. A pair of adventuring civilians shouldn’t surprise me, but here we are.

“We’re revisiting the capital. I seem to have misplaced a suitcase of mine. Would you know where the nearest barracks is?”

“Sure thing! Head north until you reach the first big fountain. The barracks will be on your right. Can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.” Her smile hones. “Let’s go, Leviathan. Or are you going to dance?”

They turn to leave. Before they can, I flick the coin back.

“Keep it.”

She catches the difficult catch effortlessly.

“Consider it the last of many apologies.” I puff out my chest. “Doesn’t matter if you have the aura of a Deity -- just promise you’ll come back around.”

She clutches the coin, cheeks tinged pink. “That’s… kind of you.”

Finley smirks knowingly, like she’s sizing me up. “You have a way with words,” she muses, tossing a wink. “Perhaps I’ll take you up on that too.”

“Anytime!”

Once they’re out of sight, I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

What was that??

It’s completely different from my run-in with the Nation Elite. A soulmate? A destined encounter? No way in hell. I’d hate for anything Ariadne said to be right. The way I think of destiny, it can be kicked to the curb harder than I’d pummel that evil Witch -- It’s not destiny unless I make my own.

I know exactly what this is: I met one of the prettiest girls in the city while selling papers. And I made her cry. Obviously, I’d suspect Leviathan is a Deity with those otherworldly manners and be thrown into a panic! This has to be the biggest failure in the great Brawler’s life!

“Man, what is it with this week? What’s next? Oh, right. …The Silas Family!”

…

Finley bumps Leviathan’s side, “who was that masculine cutie?”

“I’m not sure. I just got the feeling he’s very important. But then I forgot. It was super strange.”

“You’re such a cute airhead.”

“Am not. This was way different.” Out of earshot, Leviathan glances at Finley, her pout returning. “Why didn’t you tell him your real name?”

“Figura is too unique. I’d rather not have rumors of Burryan Conquerors visiting Rosebell. While I’m in civilian disguise, just call me Finley. You should be more careful with your name too. Even having that cutie boy know you’re a Deity is one too many.”

Leviathan exhales reluctantly. “Okay.”

Finley unfolds the newspaper. Her expression hardens as she scans the headlines. No longer bearing the allure of a noblewoman, she grimaces. “I knew it. False propaganda. And Nation Elite Captain Brutus is here too.”

“Brutus? Isn’t he dangerous?”

“Very,” Finley replies, her calm laced with menace. “But so am I. If all goes to plan, this city won’t know what hit it. Yet if Captain Brutus goes on the offensive with his Armament, then things will get ugly fast. Our mission might take a while…”

“There’s no need to worry. You always find a way to win.”

“Yup. If everything goes as planned, our success might even coincide with the final tremor.”