Chapter CLVI – I will put enmity between thee and the captive.

55th of Spring 5860
Outskirts of Karabush, State of Karabush

“May the Lord bless you, General Tubman. I am glad to see you alive.”

“May the Lord bless you too, Captain Brown. Gladder still, to see you alive.”

Two old comrades-in-arms share a firm handshake. Soldier around them march to-and-fro, clearing the wounded and the dead from the battlefield. It’s been an arduous march, an even more arduous march before it, and an arduous siege. Yet, they’re united once more on the open field, alive and well to fight another day.

“Please, sit down, you’ve been starving for-” Brown’s attempt at dragging Tubman to a tent and a seat was rejected with a shake of her hand.

“Do the Devil sit down? Then you very well know, Captain Brown, that neither do I to stop his machinations.” Tubman caught a nearby soldier trying to carry a wounded comrade by himself, and began immediately carrying the man on the other side. “Now, git, save the sentimentality for when either of us are in the grave!”

“At your command, General Tubman.” Brown gave a salute to the old woman, before swiftly retreating back to do the Lord’s work amongst the common soldiery.

56th of Spring 5860
Outskirts of Karabush, State of Karabush

“Oh, how the mighty fall.”

The words above, mocking and spiteful, were muttered by the abolitionist catgirl wizard currently occupying the front of the high priest’s view. She was sitting on a table, legs and arms crossed, looking down on the man who had been disarmed and sat on the chair. A total inversion where the two should be in proper Gemeinplatzish society, happening here at night in this tent. The Army of the Republic had stayed outside of Karabush for today, to not strain the city’s already starving population. Only provisions from the army itself had been sent to Karabush, to temporarily relieve the city before trade and agriculture normalized around the area.

“…what are you going to do with me?” asked the high priest. Might as well ask, considering he could be dead in a few moments.

“Oh, I don’t know. Start by removing your nails one by one- okay, I’m joking, don’t look at me like you’re about to piss your pants. The old man would get mad at me if I hurt you, because one has to be merciful and whatnot.” Ayomide shrugged, only one simple shrug. Oh, the slavers hurt them so much, torture them endlessly, but the moment she suggests that the same might be done to them… quite hypocritical, isn’t it? “Bloody milksops, you lot.”

Clearly the insult to his courage affected the high priest the most. He is about to stand up, before he remembers the fact that the woman in front of him is armed and he is in fact not. “H-hey, I thought you wouldn’t hurt me!”

Ayomide scoffed “Hey, I meant physically, nothing says I can’t torment you by laughing at you. It’s not against the constitution to call you a cur. Cur. Cur cur cur.”

“Stop it! I am a man of the Divine-”

“-cur cur cur cur cur-”

“Are you even listening to me?! You will be punished for your transgressions in this world and the one after!”

“Sorry, I don’t understand the curish language well, could you repeat?”

Ayomide was laughing her tailside off while the holy man struggled more and more to maintain what composure he had in this, admittedly quite stressful, situation. The slave rebellion had already been playing with everyone’s nerves, then there was the whole business of summoning an army, marching, the siege, all to be toppled by a force of fugitives several times smaller than them and be captured in war. The man was equally broken and furious.

Suddenly, Ayomide’s ears perked up, and she immediately jumped off the table. “Oh, looks like it’s time for me to go. See ya!” She ran out of the room and disappeared from view, leaving one confused priest alone in the room.

A few seconds later, an old man entered the room. Unassuming, outside of the magnificent beard flowing down from his face. Following him was someone that the high priest could identify as belonging to the temple, albeit someone who was of much lower ranking than him. The priest courteously bowed to the high priest. The old man sat down behind the table, examining the high priest in the meanwhile.

“Good evening, mister. My name is John Brown, acting Commander-in-Chief of the Federal Republic of Gemeinplatz, and this is Vaiz the Priest.” The old man extended a hand to the head priest, who understood it to be an otherworlder’s handshake. He took the hand, and they had an amicable handshake.

The holy man replied “High Priest Carl of Ancoire, faithful servant of the Divine and His Upmost Eminence Head Priest Castellan.”

Vaiz nodded at Brown. “He indeed bears the regalia of a high priest.” A taller cap than the one Vaiz had, with red silk wrapped around it, plus a robe with plentiful gold embroidery. A big shot of the Temple of the Divine, right here in this very room.

“…and pray tell, what does that exactly mean?” asked the Brown in the room who couldn’t feel any sort of divine presence from the holy man in front of him.

“That means he graduated at the top of his class at a temple school, likely studying since a young age, was promoted to the Council of Priests in Ancoire, and spent decades in faithful service to the Temple until he was promoted for his merit and qualities...? Right?”

Carl’s gaze shifted farther and farther away from Vaiz as he naively spoke. Vaiz too lost his enthusiasm and naivete with each word he uttered. In the end, he had one question: “What’s your surname?”

“…Earlywatch.”

“Goodness…” Vaiz could only heave a deep sigh, shake his head, and lose all his reverence against the man in front of him. “Familial connections. He got here through familial connections. The Head Priest is an Earlywatch too.”

“It’s always the Earlywatch around these parts, isn’t it?” Brown was already sick by the second Earlywatch crossing their path. “I am sorry to inform you, Mister Earlywatch, but your family doesn’t mean anything anymore. Not anything more than the money we can ransom you for.”

Carl had already understood what little value he had from the vile mockery he had gotten by that catgirl… He only felt safe now because he thought of himself to be in more “civilized” company with these two men. Quite scared, quite scared was he, of being cut open by the people who he saw as savages.

“There’s a whole bunch of people outside who are not happy with your… our kind. If you wish to make safe passage back, your only hope is us.” Vaiz drove the point home, his hands over his heart in a manner much holier compared to the man who was supposedly holier than thou. “So, please, help us as much as you can. To ensure your safe passage.”

Tensing up in his seat, Carl had been trying to crawl back and back – but he couldn’t, because he was on a sofa. So all he could do was melt under the gaze of these two men, and, surrender… “I… I- I’ll call over my page, I’ll find him if you let me see the prisoners, and send him off to inform my family. They should be back with the ransom shortly.”

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Brown called over one of the guards outside the tent, to escort Carl to find his page.

The bad-cop good-cop act with Ayomide was, as demonstrated, a great success. Brown would have to thank Watanabe later for suggesting the technique.