by Charles Dean
The next letter was from Ling. It was rather well written, and the handwriting was so immaculate, so neat and perfect, that Lee was suspicious as to whether or not it might have been printed from a computer. She added a unique flourish to each letter in a way that reminded him of the stereotype of middle-school-aged girls capping the letter ‘i’ with hearts when they wrote love letters.
Still, despite its flowery typography, the letter’s contents were more or less nothing more than a diary written in third-person. Rather than saying anything about herself, she had instead opted to write about what was going on with everyone else in the group: the madness Miller was seemingly experiencing and the depression Amber was going through. According to her, Miller had gone off the deep end the moment he learned that Lee had been arrested, mumbling to himself about how they need ‘more soldiers,’ about how ‘the army was too small’ and about how ‘Satterfield wouldn’t be enough.’ The Firbolg’s obsession was apparently bad enough for Ling to start becoming concerned. Amber and Ling had originally wanted to head back to Satterfield, but Miller had apparently needed convincing. He had wanted to go to another town instead for some reason that Ling couldn't comprehend. They were finally able to convince him to focus and head to Satterfield, but only after offering to help him complete the errand he was so insistent upon. They would apparently have to wake up very early to help him with this, and as such, Ling apologized that her letter wouldn't be very long.
Somehow, Ling seemed even more worried about Amber. It had taken the young woman nearly an hour to stop crying after Lee was arrested, and she had apparently gone on about her brother for quite a while as well. She whined about how Lee was going to leave her the same way her brother had--to disappear after being abducted and to never return or be seen again.
The news made Lee reconsidered the nature of his relationship with Amber for a moment. What exactly are my feelings for her? Does she view me in the same vein as a family member or . . .? It was hard to pin down his own feelings and put a label on them because, other than sleeping next to her and occasionally holding her hand, they hadn't done anything that two friends wouldn’t do.
Lastly, he opened up Amber’s letter. Unlike Ling’s, which somehow managed to feel cute and neat despite its dire contents because of the handwriting, this one was hastily written in a chicken-scratch-like drawl that reminded him of his own and was blunt and straight to the point. There were no promises of vengeance and no updates on what anyone was doing or how they felt. Instead, it was filled with questions. How come Augustus hadn't helped Lee when he was arrested? Why didn't Augustus help him now? What could possibly be so wrong with the town that they would arrest an innocent person? Why are there two Heralds? The last question offered some small insight since it let Lee know that someone had explained the situation to them in at least some capacity.
A number of other small questions like how Lee was doing or if Lee had food in prison or if he could sleep or if he was comfortable filled up the rest of the letter. She finished with ‘Come back soon’ and a signature resembling something that would make a doctor envious. Lee felt like someone had punched him in the gut as he read the last line. He didn't know why, but not seeing something like 'Love you,' 'I miss you,' ‘Yours truly,’ or any of a dozen other expressions of endearment at the letter's close made him feel somewhat amiss.
Dave must have been watching because he started laughing the moment Lee’s expression turned sour. Walking over and sitting down next to him, David sighed and said, "Ah, the famous prison break-up letter. I think every single person here has gotten one of those in the last month. It's really a shame. It almost makes me thankful for the fact that I’m the only guy who was single when I got here--not that I haven't gotten one of those letters before. I received more than my fair share while I was in the military. Apparently, ‘I'll love you forever’ really means ‘I will love you unless we happen to be separated for more than two months.’ That’s apparently how long I can be away from a girl before she comes to her senses . . . Or maybe it’s about how long before she realizes exactly how many better-looking guys are out there. But, then, that could just be me. It might actually just take that long before the alcohol wears off and they realize what a mistake they’ve made and think, ‘Oh, god, what if our children have his face?’ And then they write the letter. I always ended up looking exactly like you do right now. Happened every deployment. I always enjoyed the part in the middle where they tried to blame you for it, like it was somehow your fault that they were breaking up with you."
Lee would have corrected Dave on his misunderstanding, but Dave didn't even seem to pick up on the fact that Lee wanted to say something. He just kept on talking without so much as a pause to take a breath.
"The fact that yours took less than a day to show up is actually a blessing. I mean, if she couldn't even wait a full day, then she’s probably been meaning to do it all along anyway. So be happy. Be grateful. If you manage to get out of here alive, you won't end up wasting your time on a woman who was too indecisive to break up with you beforehand. Trust me: all you’ll have to do is pick a bar, show up and use those divine tricks to get yourself a pretty bartender. Bartenders are the best, let me tell you. I've always dreamed of hooking up with one of them. Not the male ones of course. You know what I mean. Those beautiful, wonderful, alcohol-dispensing creatures sent by Augustus himself to bring joy to the hearts of men. Yeah, with your talents, you'll easily succeed where I haven't. You can go where no old and grumbling man like me has gone before."
Lee wanted to correct Dave and explain to him that bartenders weren’t actually divine messengers sent by Augustus, but then he ended up laughing along with him instead. After all, based on the way that he was talking, he might just have a better understanding of Augustus than Lee did. For all the previous talk of honor, the man was currently reveling in the good old days of women and alcohol, and if he had managed to mention crafts, then he would have been on track to take up the mantle of a proper disciple worthy of Miller’s zealousness--the newer edition, anyway, with all of the murder-and-beer-loving goodness with new women-chasing lectures included.
Good job, Dave, Lee thought to himself. Now, we just need to introduce you to bacon. Something struck Lee as odd, and it took him a moment to puzzle out what it was about the analogy between the two men that wasn't quite right. Then it hit him: In the entire time that Lee had known him, Miller had never actually mentioned or talked about women. Despite all the time that they had spent together, not once had they talked about love, crushes or even a nice figure. Does Miller even like a callipygian woman? What kind of features do Firbolgs look for in a woman? What if he’s into Neanderthal-level unibrows and hair on the arms? What if that gorgeous guard captain earlier is actually really ugly for Firbolgs, and that’s why she was so angry and mean? She probably hangs around men all day long and still can’t get a date outside of a Human, and now with the racism ramped up to a whole new level, she can’t bring any of her boyfriends home. Yup, that has to be it.
“Well, if it helps you to continue to make fun of me, we aren’t even really dating,” Lee said, holding up the letter. “She just shows up in my bed at night.”
“So, you sleep with her, but aren’t dating? Kids these days. What is wrong with you? Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s not about the quantity of the women you sleep with? That it’s about the number of the times you get to sleep with a woman?”
“We don’t even sleep together like that. We . . . actually sleep . . .” Lee cringed as he said it. He knew that he was going to be in for a ton of ribbing.
“Wait, you . . . You aren’t cursed to never bed a woman again as a priest in exchange for your magical powers and stuff, are you? Augustus doesn’t have those kinds of Heralds, does he? Or . . . are you one of those kinds that are into guys? Now, don’t get me wrong. I heard about things like that during my days as a soldier, but--”
“No, nothing like that,” Lee said hastily, cutting him off. “We just h
aven’t known each other very long . . . And, well, it’s just complicated . . .” Lee shook his head, trailing off before he said something that would likely be offensive. Wait, why the heck am I even explaining anything to you to begin with? I don’t need to prove anything to you. My relationship with Amber or Ling or any woman is between me and the girl.
“You could try explaining it to me,” Augustus’s said as his voice popped into Lee’s head. “I’m kinda curious myself. You’re supposed to be the Herald of Alcohol and Crafts, and you haven’t been to a single party, much less hosted one. You’ve had a few nights drinking, sure, but you’re severely lacking on the ‘hold my beer’ moments since you got here. You should be more proactive in spreading the lifestyle.”
“Complicated? What’s complicated?” Dave asked, oblivious to Augustus. “If you like a girl, you like her. If you like her in the kind of way that you want to bed her, then just tell her. Either she says ‘no,’ and you respect that and move the hell on, or she says ‘yes,’ and you get to have some fun. No harm, no foul, no need to waste your time chasing fool’s gold or waiting forever to mine the real stuff.”
Augustus’s cackle was grating Lee’s mind. “The man has a point.”
“Well, I still got another letter to read. Let me get back to it,” Lee responded a bit curtly.
“Go for it. I’m also just surprised you managed to get one in here, much less four. We usually only ever get mail and letters at the end of the week, but I guess, with you being a Herald, maybe there is some secret way to get letters from believers. Not sure how they send it, though . . .” Dave kept muttering to himself as he stood up, dusted himself off and went back to the place he had laid down earlier to sleep.
“A word of advice,” he said as he stretched out on the ground, “Keep the letters. Even if you don’t like what they say, they gotta be softer than this hard ground.”
Lee frowned as he leaned back and pulled out the final letter. This one was just as precise and orderly as Ling’s, but it was neither cute nor personalized, and Lee didn’t know the sender.
Lee,
I’ll keep this short and to the point: I must apologize for getting you arrested. I also offer my sincerest condolences that we went through the trouble of finding a lawyer that, while great at his craft, is pompous enough to ensure the guards overseeing your arrest would insist on trying to kill you off early via the colosseum. You must understand that, if I hadn’t done this, you were slated to be killed as you tried to leave town in the morning. I received word of your assassination contract, and I regret to inform you that, even after contacting the organization, we can’t get the bounty removed.
For that reason, we found it easier to simply put you somewhere safe where you wouldn’t be motivated to take an unnecessary risk. The colosseum isn’t that bad. We have faith that you’ll be able to stay alive, especially since we bribed the guards to pair you with Dave. He is reported to be the greatest Human fighter to still be alive in Kirshtein. We are aware that the sleeping conditions are atrocious, and that you’ll likely miss your party, and that is why I am explaining the situation to you now. You may consider it a betrayal, and you may wish it in your heart to take revenge on us, but please understand that my master and I are doing this for your own good. We cannot afford to let the only Human Herald die before our town is freed.
Impress the people, earn a name, and hone your skills in combat. We cannot prevent the trial from occurring for more than a week, two at tops, and at that point, you will be free, and the assassins will come for you. I’ll also do my best to pass letters from outside in and from inside out. If you wish to forward any instructions to your friends, find two blank pages attached to this one for your use.
Both I and my master wish you the utmost success. Be well, our Herald, and I hope you will forgive us for acting in the best interest of our cause.
The letter didn’t have a signature or name to go with it, but Lee knew it was most likely the same man who had passed the stack to Ethan. Lee took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down so that he could think over the events. So, this wasn’t just because of the murdered Firbolgs. They thought that I was good enough to handle the colosseum without any issue, but they didn’t trust me to be able to go up against the assassins that have been hired to kill me. Who would even want to kill me to begin with? Lee stared at the page in front of him as he tried to unpack all of the information that was there and what had been left unsaid.
“The other Herald, you idiot,” Augustus answered for him. “Why would you even ask a pointless question like that? Have you forgotten that, besides the racist bigots in this town, there is still a representative who is hell-bent on destroying all the other ones? This is, for better or worse, a sort of ‘there can be only one’ kind of world unless someone collects all the fragments of the world stone.
How many fragments and Heralds are there? Lee asked Augustus. Are there a ton? Is it hard to find them?
“World stone fragments? Far fewer than Heralds. There are only a handful, all pretty well hidden, and once you collect them all, it unlocks the final trial. But that’s the type of gambit that most don’t want to deal with when it’s much easier to just send lackeys to kill off any upstart, divinity-claiming magic users,” Augustus explained. “With you flaunting my name everywhere, how did you not think someone would want to kill you?”
Of course, because if I knew someone was associated to you, I’d definitely think about killing them too, Lee snidely shot back.
“Hey, your mother is associated with me! And by blood! Are you going to try to kill your mother?” Between Lee’s remark and Augustus’s comeback, Lee felt like he was back in grade school.
Well, at least I guess there’s comfort in knowing that someone definitely is trying to kill me. It’d be worse not to know. It’s also good to know who is keeping me alive, Lee thought, looking over at Dave.
“So, you got things straightened out in your head yet?” Augustus asked. “Ready for me to send you back to The Land of Beer and Honey?”
Yeah, I got a rough idea of what I need to do, Lee answered with a nod.
“Which is? ‘Cause you can’t just kill the Herald and fix this town. I shouldn’t be giving you too much advice, but you need to think hard about how to handle this. If you don’t, you might be buying a comb at the price of your hair.”
Lee recoiled at the last line. What does that even mean? How are my goals not clear? Get better at fighting so that I can free myself? Free the Humans in this town from these racist Firbolgs? Do my best to reduce the number of people that have to die in this world over the fighting of Heralds. Isn’t that always the goal? To help the people out?
“See, it’s thinking like that makes me think you’re such a moron,” Augustus said scoldingly. “You need to use your head and drink some beer. You could learn a thing or two from Miller--or Dave. He seems like a great guy too.”
Lee just sighed, having had enough of this conversation. Just send me back when you’re ready.
“Sure. That’s fine. I’ll send you back sometime in the night. Just don’t waste your time before you go to sleep,” Augustus said. “You’ve got a busy day tomorrow, in both this world and the other.”
Lee didn’t know exactly what he needed to do once the conversation was finished, so he passed the time thinking about what Augustus had said: that his ideas were too short-sighted. Even if he often mocked Augustus, growing frustrated and treating him like nothing more than an idiotic, drunk, frat guy from college, Augustus was still a being that had been around for a long time. No one lived that long without learning a few things, and he had probably seen dozens of scenarios just like the one Lee was currently in. The worst part was that Lee really didn’t know what to do after he got free. How do I stop the decline of a city that has already reached the point where justice has devolved into madness? How do I save an entire race of people from such a horrible fate when they and so many others have already fled in terror?
Wait
a minute, they didn’t confiscate our weapons . . . It would have made sense for the guards to take the prisoners’ arms as soon as they were done with the fight in the arena, leaving them defenseless in the jail cells, but they hadn’t. He started to ask Dave if this was typical but saw that he was already asleep with his hand resting on his belly and a smile planted on his face. Well, I’d be pretty content too if I got to eat a proper meal for the first time in months, Lee thought, deciding not to bother the man further by waking him up. If they mistakenly left him with his sword, even if it was only because of its low-quality nature and inferior material, he wasn’t keen on letting anyone know he had it on him. He had enough points to get a new one tomorrow, something he definitely planned on doing, but he was going to hold onto this one for as long as he could.
An idea struck him as he looked around his cell. Sure enough, the tables were all put together using metal nails. I hope you don’t mind . . . Silently sliding over to it, Lee began trying to pull one out. He thought he might be able to get it by wiggling it with his fingernail a bit and digging around, but it turned out to be an utter failure.
Worse comes to worst, I have to spend some mana healing my hands . . . Lee grumbled to himself as he put a hand on the dirt floor and tried to shape the hard-packed earth into a hammer the same way he had made the sand into glass. The only thing that happened was that his initial 1% mana usage resulted in a shock straight to his brain