Death's Favorite Warlock

by Charles Dean

  As he was searching Ed, he also found a small leather book titled “Stomp of the Earth King.” He opened it and flipped through it for a second to discover that it was a skill technique that allowed one to channel their earth and wind Qi into a stomp attack that would send out shockwaves. Unlike the books he usually got, however, this one only had maybe thirty words total. Instead, it was filled with picture diagrams of the body in a series of different positions, which Lars took to be the positions one moved in when performing the attack, and lines moving through the body, which Lars took to be the two types of Qi needed to use the move. He guessed that the green lines were the wind and that the brown lines were the earth, but he couldn’t be certain.

  So, at the beginning of the fight, this is what pushed back my water . . . Lars thought, remembering the weird move.

  Yeah, but given what he did and what the book displays, it seems he only mastered the Wind Qi side of the skill. If you add the earth to it, the skill should be much more effective. You might want to practice this. It’s a good skill.

  You could teach me better, though, couldn’t you? Lars wondered.

  Could but not going to. There are limits to our contract. Learn stuff on your own.

  Blerg. Lars frowned. The mention of the contract again felt like another dagger dug into his heart because the contract was now tied to thoughts of his father, and he didn’t want to deal with that. Well, time to clean up as best as I can, Lars grumbled. He took his clothes off and used his Water Qi, which was now significantly stronger, along with his Fire Qi to slowly steam clean his body. It took a lot of scrubbing, and while he wasn’t completely clean, he felt like he removed enough of the gore for no one to notice when he left the prison. He then added a touch of the Fire Qi to the water coming out of his hand as he poured it onto the robes and slowly hand-washed them as best as he could. Surprisingly, he got most of it clean, and after putting the robes back on, he used Wind Qi to dry himself and his clothes.

  The whole process took nearly twenty minutes of his time and was by no means without a lot of effort, but Lars felt rather proud of himself as he looked at his reflection in a puddle.

  It’s the Qi in the water you produce. It strengthens the purifying attributes. It makes it much easier for you to wash things than if you had just used regular water and a standard soap made out of lye compound.

  Neato, Lars thought, but . . . it feels like the robes shrank a bit.

  Washing things in hot water does that. Don’t worry, the girls will like the tighter fit. Trust me.

  If you say so . . . Lars frowned, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the new way the robes sat on him. He made his way to the exit, opened the door, and began to climb the stairs. When he reached the floor where Nuj had said Brandon was, he couldn’t help but open the door. Inside, there were another twenty or thirty people locked in cells of two to five people per cell.

  They’re kept like animals in cages. This shouldn’t be. Either kill them or train them, but this is just . . . This is awful. No one should be locked up like this. They’d be better off dead.

  You’re just saying that because you want me to kill them, Lars thought with a sigh. He knew exactly what she was going to suggest, but he couldn’t do it. It was one thing to kill murderers, rapists, and monstrous people; it was another to kill people of whose crime he had no idea in an attack that couldn’t even be counted as self-defense. Even if it helped him grow a little stronger, it was still a line he didn’t want to cross. It just didn’t sit right with him.

  As he was studying the cells, his eyes going from one face to another, every person studied him, unsure of what to make of his presence. Finally, he saw one cell with a dude that had a horn popping out of his head.

  “What’s your name?” Lars asked the man.

  “Brandon,” the guy responded.

  “What are you in here for?” Lars asked as he walked up to the cell that Brandon was standing in.

  “I robbed a poor, innocent woman of her money,” he snarled. It was clear Brandon hated saying every single word that left his mouth.

  “Oh, don’t say that,” his cellmate, a man with two tiny goat horns popping out of his head, said with a cackle. “He’s just . . . kidding you . . . He is locked up because an official wants to bang that cute girl of his. What was her name? Ruri? Oh, yeah. That’s why he is here. When the captain of his unit tried to take Ruri’s sweet rurkis by force—if you know what I mean—Brandon, ol’ boy ol’ chap here, knocked his ass out. Isn’t that right? That’s the real reason you’re here, isn’t it? That’s what you told us, isn’t it?”

  What the hell . . . Lars gulped down a little vomit as he thought about the fact this guy was stuck in jail with his girl waiting outside day in and day out all because he stopped a man from taking advantage of his woman physically.

  “I stole an innocent woman’s money,” Brandon repeated, ignoring the jibes of the man behind him. “I understand what I did was wrong. Can I please be sentenced now?”

  He . . . He hasn’t even been properly sentenced?! Lars wanted to scream in rage, but he bit his tongue and did his best to keep his cool. “So . . . you’re not in the books? At all?” Lars asked. “You haven’t even been sentenced? You’re just being held here . . . for trial?”

  “Ha! They won’t give him a trial until he admits what he did was wrong,” the loud-mouthed cellmate said. “He wouldn’t read their script for the judge, so now he’s here. But, looks like a few months in here, and now he’s more than willing to read the script and say the words. Good boy, right?” The goat cultivator couldn’t contain his laughter. It was as if everything that came out of his mouth was a joke, despite how horrendous and nauseating it was to listen to.

  “What about you? What did you do?” Lars asked, looking at the goat man.

  “Oh, I’m guilty as the rain is wet. I shanked one of those second-generational, everything-handed-to-him kids in the back for stealing food from my stall and then threatening to tell his father and have me thrown in jail if I said a word about it,” the goat replied, laughing. “He even called me worthless! Me! Worthless! But hey, given he died over a two-copper kebab, I guess he wasn’t worth much either!” The goat man just kept cracking up as he told his story, and by this point, most of the prisoners around Lars were laughing at the story too. It was as if every word that came out of the man’s mouth was comedic gold.

  “Anyone else have a story like that?” Lars asked, but when he did, he found that everyone else just kept saying “no” and “I’m innocent.”

  “No use asking them, boss. The only reason we’re in this cell together is the two of us ol’ pals are the only two guilty people on the floor. They can’t have us be shackled up with all these”—he paused, snickering loudly—“innocent citizens.”

  Lars grimaced. “Well, here, Brandon.” Lars pulled out the ring of keys he had taken from Nuj and tried a few until one finally fit and opened the cell. “As far as your cellmate told it, you’re not actually supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to be in jail at all.” Lars laughed. He didn’t exactly find anything funny, but he couldn’t help but succumb to the slightly infectious nature of the cackling goat.

  “Mind if I step out too?” the goat man asked. “Name’s Nick, Nick the Quick with the big, long—”

  “That’s enough, Nick,” Brandon said. “But yeah, is it okay if he comes too? He’s been a good man and a good friend.”

  Let him. I’d say let them all go, but you’re not that type of guy. So just let this one go at least. Stuck in a cage all day . . . It’s just sad.

  “Suit yourselves, but follow closely behind me and do as I say until you see sunlight,” Lars instructed.

  “Works for me,” Brandon replied. “I trust you have a plan, so I’ll follow the letters, and Nick will . . .” He paused, looking at the still-chuckling goat man. “He will stay far enough behind us that his sense of humor won’t be heard.”

  “Fair,” Lars said before turning and walking back t
oward the stairs. When he got to the top of the stairs and was faced with the door that had the guard behind it, the one that had stolen Brandon’s rurki, he froze. He didn’t know how he was going to handle this. He could kill the guard and then sneak out, but doing so would require him to wash his clothes again. There was no attack he could think of that he was capable of doing that wouldn’t either generate attention from the outside or cause blood to spill across his freshly cleaned outfit, and he really, really didn’t want to wash his clothes again. Laundry duty for a blood-stained outfit was a chore that he would be grateful if he never had to do again in his entire life.

  On the other hand . . . Lars thought for a minute as he stared at the door and then smiled as he adjusted his posture, stuck out his chest, and flung the door open.

  “Hey, why are you up here and . . . Where’s Nuj?” The guard had obviously not expected to see Lars again. He probably thought that Nuj and Ed would butcher him and steal all his stuff, and he’d be taking his cut after they cleaned up the body or found some way to dispose of Lars.

  “I think the question should be this instead: Why do you not like breathing, you insolent, deceitful, foul-mouthed little worm!” Lars yelled. He sent out as much wind as he could with his voice and slammed him back down and into his chair. The 270 points of Wind Qi clearly gave Lars quite a powerful command over the element.

  “I . . . but . . . you were only . . .” The man’s mind seemed to be breaking as he mumbled in his chair without even bothering to stand back up. “You’re still only a . . . How can you?”

  “How can I what? Live? You tried to rob me. My purse is Hsein Ku’s purse. My word is Hsein Ku’s word. I am her disciple and the messenger of her will, and you, you foolish little peon . . .” Lars paused, reveling in the terrified expression on the guard that had sent him to his death. He had to admit that he rather enjoyed this role he was playing. “You tried to kill me? ME?! That is no less of an insult than trying to kill Hsein Ku, now is it?”

  “No . . . No, it isn’t,” he mumbled, “but—”

  “But what? You expected me to die, and then, if Hsein Ku came by, you’d pretend like I never reached this jail of yours? You’d act like you had no idea who I was and shrug off all responsibility?” Lars guessed at what the man had been thinking. “All the while counting her coins and mocking her, your lies slapping her in the face with every sentence you spoke?”

  The man clearly couldn’t come up with a proper excuse. “No, it’s just . . .”

  “Slap yourself,” Lars ordered.

  “What?” the guard looked incredibly confused as he stared at Lars, almost as if he had heard the words, but they were in a different language altogether.

  “I said, ‘Slap yourself,’ and if you make me repeat it again, I’m going to kill you right there—the same way I mercilessly killed and tortured those incompetent fools, Ed and Nuj, for trying to kill me—and there is nothing you can do about it.”

  This time, the man didn’t hesitate at all as he struck his own face with his right hand.

  “I didn’t hear that. It wasn’t hard enough,” Lars said, and no sooner had the words left his mouth than the old bastard hit his own face once more.

  “That’s one. I want you to do it again, nineteen more times, and if a single slap isn’t to my satisfaction, I’m going to make you start over, or I’m going to kill you. I haven’t decided how much free time I still have.”

  The man gritted his teeth momentarily but then did as he was told, striking his face with his right hand again and again. Each time, he used just as much force, if not more, than he had before. Both of his cheeks were solid red by the time he was done, and from the expression on his face, Lars knew the humiliation had sunk into the man’s bones.

  You know, I’ve heard of not saving face, but this is a new way to strip someone of their dignity. Making them slap themselves like they are both the angry socialite and the annoying man who offended her at the same time. Kudos.

  Well, I didn’t actually want to torture him, Lars said, remembering what his master had said about people in jails, but I didn’t want him to do this to others in the future if I could help it. Hopefully, he’ll at least think before he messes with people now. Who knows? Maybe one person won’t suffer because of this.

  Hey, it just numbed his face a little and was hilarious. Don’t think too much about it. In fact, just for you . . .

  Quest: Go slap yourself!

  Objective: Make at least 3 more people of a vile or disreputable nature slap themselves at least 5 times using your own or borrowed authority.

  There. Now, it’s official. You have my approval and encouragement to continue this method of punishing people. Though, if you make this guy slap himself again, you’ll be knocking out a tooth.

  Got it, Lars thought, though part of him really did want to see if he could talk the man into slapping his own tooth out. “Now,” Lars continued, pointing over to Brandon and Nick, “I’ve found two prisoners suitable for my master’s research purposes. I won’t report your robbery attempt to Hsein Ku, and you won’t report that I have taken them. In fact, you’ll make it so they were never here to begin with.”

  “Yes, young master,” the man said as he rubbed the cheek he had been striking. “I’ll take care of it right away.”

  “And the bodies on the fifth floor, the assailants who tried to kill me?” Lars asked.

  “They died nobly during a prison rebellion, fending off the enemies of the king who sought to free the prisoners. Your help prevented the escape, but your late arrival prevented you from also saving the poor and unfortunate guards who died in the line of duty,” the sly old guard answered, lowering his head as if he were mourning them. “I just . . . I just wish we could have done more.”

  “Ha ha!” Nick’s laughter resounded throughout the room. “This is . . . This is just too much. I’m sorry. I just can’t contain it. I thought the inmates were good at telling fibs, but this guy? This guy’s world class. Top notch, I tell you! If I ever need someone to regale me with fantasy stories, it’s going to be you, Mr. . . .”

  “Evan,” the man said as he rubbed his cheeks.

  “I think he should slap himself one more time before he leaves, too. You know, just for posterity’s sake after all the crap we had to go through, don’t you?” Nick asked, looking to Brandon instead of Lars for that decision.

  Brandon just sighed, so he didn’t get a chance to answer before Evan once again slapped himself.

  “I didn’t think a slap could be so satisfying unless it was off a girl’s rear, but here you have it,” Nick remarked with a snicker.

  Lars assumed Nick was going to keep talking, but he had already done what he had come to do, so he left the jail with his mind running calculations on what might be the best way to spend his points.

  “Wait a minute!” Brandon burst through the door behind Lars and into the street. “I didn’t get your name.”

  “Lars. However, don’t thank me. Thank Hsein Ku and thank your girl,” Lars said.

  Ruri stood frozen, staring at Brandon from her rurki stall, before bursting into tears and practically flying across the distance separating them and crashing into Brandon.

  “Oh my! I MISSED YOU SOOOO MUCH!” she cried, more tears forming in her eyes as she ignored anyone who watched them from the street. “I missed you! I missed you so much! I never want to be without you again!”

  Nick, who had been chuckling the entire time, finally went quiet and watched them.

  “What? No joke?” Lars had to ask.

  “Not for this man. Even I have a heart. It might only be worth a two-copper kebab, but it’s there,” Nick said, raising a hand and scratching at one of his goat horns.

  “Did you get the treats I sent you? I got someone to go down every day so you’d never be without your rurkis! I remember how much you loved them and said you didn’t want to live without my cooking and . . .”

  “Yes, I got each and every one,” Brandon said as he held
her in his arms.

  “He didn’t get a single one,” Nick whispered to Lars, ratting the man out.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m free now,” Brandon said as he continued to comfort the crying Ruri.

  “I think this is where we leave those two lovebirds . . .” Nick said. He nudged Lars, and the two of them made some distance, leaving the rhino and hippo cultivators locked in an embrace behind them.

  “You don’t plan on sticking to me, do you?” Lars asked after they had walked through an alley together.

  “What? Ha! Ha ha! Me? Sticking to you?” he cackled. “That’s rich. You smell of death itself. What would I get from hanging around you?”

  The fool is rather wise.

  “Ah, so you just happen to be heading in the same direction as I am,” Lars said.

  “Nope, I’m following you, for now,” Nick explained. “I’m gonna see which courtyard you enter so that, one day, I can show up again and return the favor. You saved a two-copper kebab man, so I’ll pay you back with four coppers’ worth in the future.” Nick laughed. “You’ll be worth twice as much as Alexander, son of Philip the Bull.”

  “That’ll be nice,” Lars replied with a laugh. Then he reached into his pocket and took out 5 silver coins and handed them to Nick. “Just in case you need a little something to eat and a place to sleep before you get on your feet. I didn’t see a woman like Ruri waiting for you.”

  “They’ll put me up though.” Nick shrugged and then just went back to giggling and chortling to himself as they walked back to the mansion.

  “I see you have returned,” Matthew’s mother said when Lars entered. “Was your journey into the city fruitful?”

  “Somewhat. But I wasn’t able to find a place that sells ink and parchment,” he added. “I’ll have to work on that tomorrow, I suppose.”

  She walked up to him and seemed to spot something on him. “The fabric will always shrink if you wash it with hot water,” she remarked. “There should be at least one more robe in your room. I would recommend you change clothes again before dinner. We’ll be serving in ten minutes, and it is best if you don’t attend wearing clothes with poorly removed droplets of blood on them.”