“Could it be the sword?” Johan asked. Aryu had left out most of the major details of the history and power of the Shi Kaze, alluding to it in the recap of his meeting with Nixon. He had also taken great care to paint Nixon as more of a savior to keep his friend from worrying.
“No, it’s not the sword,” Aryu answered. “They arrived in the village weeks before I had found it.”
“And what about you working with them? What kind of lie is that? Where’s Esgona, anyway? If he has to be here, he may as well answer some of these questions.”
Aryu was content to let Esgona just wait it out for a while. He wasn’t far away, a block or two if he recalled correctly. He described to Johan the place he’d been left and asked him to go. It dawned on Johan that there was still a fair chunk of the town in a bloodthirsty rage searching for a winged man. He agreed and went in search of the boy.
Aryu cautiously looked about Johan’s room, now lit with lanterns and candles casting a harsh dancing light on everything it touched. The room was barren except for the bed, a desk with no chair, a washbasin, and a cracked-but-serviceable mirror.
Aryu walked over to the mirror, anxious to see himself again. It had been some time since he’d last seen a mirror. He was much more ragged now. His clothes were ripped in too many places to count. His face and hands were cut and bruised. His dark brown hair was scruffy and tussled, not to mention longer than he’d have liked, but personal grooming had fallen off to the wayside lately with the excitement of returning home. His bright green eyes and now more than a few days’ growth of patchy facial hair made him look that much more foreign. Another constant reminder for Aryu that he was not a native of this land and never would be.
He stepped away from the mirror and waited by the window, careful to shield his wings from anyone who might look up his way. Not much fear in that, though. It seemed most of the town had other matters on their mind.
In the few minutes he spent looking out at the town from his perch, Aryu watched three rather obvious thefts of goods, two raucous fights, and one of what he could only assume was the most public and obvious business transactions being executed between a ‘professional’ lady and customer he’d ever seen. Aryu found the latter act sicker and sadder than anything else. Something about the way they seemed to throw decorum out the window reminded him more than anything else how far one could sink with nothing left to lose.
Soon he spied Johan returning with Esgona in tow. “Anything interesting?” Johan asked when they entered the room, seeing Aryu’s attention drawn to the scenes out the window. Aryu looked at him and then back out to the scenes below.
“No. Only the world caving in on itself.”
Johan smirked. “Then everything’s normal. Good to hear.” He wandered over to the desk and hopped up, feet dangling like a child on a chair that was too big. Aryu could see by the look on his face that his mission to find Esgona and return was one he enjoyed greatly. Alcohol still showed on his face, but perverse pleasure was muddled in with it.
By this point Aryu was numb to the plight of Esgona. His moral and social victory over his rival was a lock, and now he only felt sad and ashamed for him. Pity was still a long way off, but it was somewhere in distant sight. That realization was enough to leave the matter alone. He had no further need to demoralize Esgona. His satisfaction at Esgona’s failure was enough. For now.
“So now what?” Johan asked. “Hitch a ride with a northbound caravan? I’m open to ideas.” A casual glance to the crippled boy now sitting across the room hinted that these ideas were only to come from Aryu lest they be ridiculed and shot down.
“East,” was Aryu’s reply.
He had told Johan of his deal to help the fire beast, but it was obvious Johan either thought him a liar or just didn’t remember. The smirk left his face. “East? That’s as much trouble as south.”
“I told you. I made a deal to bring Esgona to safety, find you and go east with Nixon. I’ll be back when it’s over.”
Johan still didn’t believe him. “Why? Because you promised? Forget that. I thought you were dead. Now you’re alive, but you have to go with some crazy demon-thing to the forbidden lands? Let him hang. You’re coming with us.” Aryu hadn’t told him about the power of the man named Nixon or the mission he was sworn to uphold.
“I’ll be back quickly, Johan. It won’t take long. A week or two at best.” A complete lie; Aryu had no idea how long it would take, but he needed some leverage.
Johan was like a rock. “No. This isn’t a debate. Napponia is forbidden for a reason, Aryu. People who go there die.” A rumor, but a rumor so rampant it was generally agreed upon to be true.
“Look, I made a deal. A promise on my honor. I can’t take it back, Johan. He saved my life. I owe him this.”
At that statement, Johan faltered. It was a fact he’d not considered, and a deal like that was hard if not impossible to break. Johan, being a man of honor as much as a smart ass, knew that just as well if not better than anyone else, even in his inebriated state. No matter what came out next, Aryu knew
