Chương 26: Musings of the Magic Casters & the Cooks & the Rut of Blood — Part 3

The memory faded, dissolved by a sudden wave of thunderous applause. Galan blinked, the vividness of the cold forest night shattered by the warm lights and the palpable energy of the theater. On stage, the lone dancer held a deep, graceful bow, petals pooling around her feet. She rose slowly, her face hidden behind her fan, and walked away.

"A truly magnificent performance of Sunlit Cherry Blossom," the announcer's voice resonated in Godlang.

"We will now take another brief ten-minute intermission. Please enjoy your meals, and prepare for our next vibrant act, Dance of the Wind." The lights brightened further. The gentle hum of conversation swelled as people stretched and signaled for attendants. Galan took a slow, deep breath, consciously pulling himself back to the present, shaking off the lingering ghosts of that fateful night. Masahiko rose from his seat.

"Lord Oda, I must leave for the bathroom. Please excuse me." Galan grinned.

"You are hereby granted permission to relieve yourself." Masahiko blinked, then bowed.

"Thank you. I shall return shortly." He disappeared into the hallway, leaving Galan alone with his thoughts. The chatter of the audience faded, replaced by the chirping of crickets. Galan closed his eyes, letting his mind drift back to the aftermath of that fateful night. ───────────── ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ───────────── In the forest outside the outpost, Marcus slept against a tree, his new halberd resting on his lap. Across the moat, Marybelle and Noctavia sat by a campfire, eating fresh pork soup.

Gaius joined them, carrying extra bowls and water pouches. They ate in silence for a moment, the only sounds the crackle of the fire and the distant, fading roar of the outpost burning.

"So," Marybelle said, breaking the quiet.

"What now? You've joined Galan. What's your plan?" Gaius took a sip of water, his gaze distant.

"I don't know. I've always followed orders. But now... it's different. Galan's different. There's something about him that makes me think... that maybe there's more I can do than just survive." This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Noctavia looked at him thoughtfully.

"Do you think following him will give you a purpose? Beyond learning magic?"

"Yeah. I do." Gaius nodded slowly.

"He has his own way of looking at things. Maybe if I stay with him, I'll be able to understand what I've been missing." Marybelle glanced at the sleeping Marcus.

"Speaking of which, who gave the navigator that halberd? That's not something you just hand over to anyone." Gaius chuckled.

"Galan gave it to him as a gift."

"Wait, Galan just gave it to him?" Noctavia raised an eyebrow.

"It's not like he needs it. He can fight just fine bare-handed."

"But that halberd belonged to one of the guards, didn't it?" Marybelle frowned. Gaius paused.

"Wait, it did. I guess his way of thinking is starting to affect me."

"That's not just any weapon. It's theirs... They died with it."

"Yeah, you're right," Gaius admitted.

"But in the chaos, when Galan handed it to him, it didn't feel like stealing. It felt... right. As if he just assumed ownership once he killed that guard. I guess in Galan's world, if someone dies and leaves something behind, he can just... take it." Noctavia shook her head with a resigned laugh.

"What has the world come to? Where we take a dead man's weapon and pass it around like it's nothing."

"Things have taken a turn for the worse now, haven't they?" Marybelle agreed.

"Maybe," Gaius said quietly.

"Or maybe we just have to adjust to a better world where nothing is as it used to be. Galan told me that all of the awful things will end tonight for the big cities in the Empire."

"Well, I hope you're right," Marybelle said.

"Perhaps we do need someone like him to set the world right."

"I just hope he won't be the new evil that replaces the old one," Noctavia murmured.

"Not much we can do about it if he does," Gaius shrugged, taking another bite of his soup.

"But he seems to have some compassion. I mean, that guy wouldn't be breathing if he didn't." He pointed his spoon at the sleeping Marcus. Marybelle glanced at the navigator.

"Yeah. You do have a point." Nearby, the cooks, Tullius and Decimus, sat by their own small fire.

"Did you hear that?" Tullius whispered, stirring the embers.

"That halberd situation... it's unsettling." Decimus looked down.

"It's everything, Tullius. This Galan... he's different. Do we even know what he truly wants? What happens if he decides we're of no use to him?" Tullius chuckled softly, though his eyes were worried.

"Well, I wouldn't worry. He'd always need a cook. Can you imagine?

'Tullius, the famed cook of the new order!' I should write to my ex-wife about it."

"Might want to add that he's not a tyrant... yet," Decimus muttered.

"But seriously, what does he expect from us? What authority do I really have? If I mess up, will he kill us both?"

"Well, he may seem unpredictable, but I think there's a method to his madness," Tullius said.

"We just have to survive long enough to figure out how it works." Decimus nodded, staring into the fire.

"Bet you're glad you stopped me from going to the brothel with the others, huh?"

"Sure am," Tullius said, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"It's not every day I get to save someone's life with more than just my ladle."

"I suppose I'll just be the way I am now," Decimus sighed.

"At least he deemed me worthy enough not to be killed on the spot."

"Then just keep being you." Tullius smiled.

"I'll do the cooking, and you do whatever Galan wants you to do while we figure this out together."