74 - Ekarone Days [Cherno]

“So what now?”

Rather than answer, he got up and went over to the censer-wheel, spinning it back and forth as if it were a safe dial. Then, he sat back down.

“We wait. Someone is on the way from the city’s central temple. I intend to report the incident, then lay low for a few days while the church handles the cleanup. If you wish, this would be a good entry point to becoming an official church contractor. You will not be restricted from joining agencies, excepting those with exclusivity clauses. ”

“I’ll consider it.”

The man who arrived to meet them wore aggressively unassuming clothing, his position as part of the Igarian church only betrayed by the iron seven-spoked wheel pendant around his neck. It was of the same, alternate design as the incense wheel.

“...Ah, so it was you, Brother Aristedes. And who might this anathemist be? I surely hope you have good reason to vest such trust in her as to bring her into this shrine’s inner sanctum, and to then call on an agent of the Inner Wheel in her presence no less.”

“I do, Nicodemus. I wholly believe that she possesses a righteous spirit, and she has rendered much aid to me just in these past few hours, the circumstances of which are also the reason I saw fit to call you here. You see…”

Casus proceeded to recount relevant events from his own perspective, from his capture at the hands of the Hashem Family all the way to the recovery of his belt and their exfiltration from Slaughterhouse 9.  Mercifully, he omitted everything pertaining to Krahe’s true identity. Nicodemus occasionally shot glances Krahe’s way, more perplexed than anything else. He was clearly trying to recall if he’d ever seen or heard of her, unwilling to believe that she was indeed a total nobody.

“This is… Very concerning. The Hashem Family’s capabilities have clearly grown beyond our estimates. They’ve become truly brazen if they think it a good idea to kidnap a Pilgrim, and those Benefactors of theirs… You did well to report it to me. Were you to go to the outer church with this, they may have very well turned the subdistrict into a warzone.”

“I trust you will see to it that the compound is cleared out and refurbished for proper civilian use?”

“Of course. We will open an investigation and dispatch a contingent of graft-apostles with Red Hood support to patrol the subdistrict with detainment orders for all known members of the Hashem Mafia, as well as anyone who displays explicit signs of being a member. The unfinished tram system has been especially troublesome, we really ought to block off the tunnel in a more robust fashion.”

Immediately after reporting the Slaugherhouse 9 incident, Casus and Krahe made their way to another section of the city nearly twenty kilometers away, where the Banisher had access to a pair of safehouses connected by secret passageways in the ancient buildings’ walls. A part of her constantly felt vaguely uncomfortable at the Banisher’s continued kindness, despite the fact he had shown not the slightest suggestion of ulterior motive. This time, it was at least easy to rationalize away by placating the paranoid part of herself with the idea that Casus logically saw her as an ally and simply chose to offer up his own safehouses for use out of pragmatism. It was, after all, a part of the truth.

They quickly began treating the two as one unit, using the separation for privacy more than security. Krahe’s concerns regarding safety from direct attack were somewhat assuaged when Casus freely showed her how the safehouses were warded against scrying, direct detection, and direct attack. The amenities were similar to those at Favonia’s place, though less fanciful, and the neighborhood was on the nicer side of unassuming… By Audunpoint standards. A historical, peaceful neighborhood like this would’ve been the subject of minor wars between realtor firms back home.

“It may not be top-of-the-line security, but well beyond what is necessary to keep us safe against any realistic retaliation from the Hashems, and most of the safety comes from this place being hidden in plain sight,” Casus said after going over the twin safehouses’ security features. “Even the windows are a special type of Thaumstone glass with the same resilience as solid steel… But none of these protections shall be necessary unless they find this place and make the stupid decision of directly attacking it. A terribly pessimistic outlook, given the sheer unlikelihood of that. Well, get yourself comfortable, I shall give you your privacy. I would suggest washing off the gore.”

He was right.

Krahe went and used the safehouse’s shower, and it felt as though the blood of thousands sloughing off of her all at once. It was but a dent in the killcount she had racked up just with the fusion bomb that destroyed Bergmann and Whitestone’s HQ, but that didn’t matter. She held not an iota of remorse in her heart for her Dead Man’s Switches, or any of the lives she had taken since her rebirth. Acknowledgment was one thing, but she had long grown numb to killing… And a great deal more killing she foresaw in her future. This world was much too nice, and she couldn’t smother the undying flame deep within that drove her to dig up the filth that would make it more like the hellhole where she had lived out her previous life.

Rooting out Hashem and his Benefactors, however, was in the future. Now, in this moment, she had peace.

Several days passed. Krahe spent some nights at the safehouse, and others at various inns and hotels all across Audunpoint. She lived comfortably off of the Foreman's money, putting herself to task in gathering information and exploring Audunpoint’s offerings. A staggering variety of food, drink, and smokable substances, running the gamut from purely medicinal to purely recreational and everything in between. She always returned to Imraal's stall, his foldovers being just trashy enough to remind her of the nice parts of her past life. Rather quickly, she grew fond of a particular fruit they sold in the markets by the kilo; it was an oblong thing roughly the shape of a very thick and short banana, with a reddish-yellow peel and a slightly star-shaped cross section. The peel was dense and tough, but quite thin, and the flesh found inside sat at an intersection between pineapple and fragrant, cloyingly sweet forest strawberry in all aspects. She had only gotten brief tastes of these coveted, prized fruits in her work as a smuggler, and now, she could not only buy it on the open market, but cheaply as well. Ekarone, it was called. The peddler readily make it known to her that the seeds could be scraped out, dried, crushed, and smoked for a mild euphoric effect.

She didn’t remember life ever being this good.