trainwreck take 1 (mission)

Something didn't add up.

Lucian could not place his finger on it, but something was off here. However, at the moment, he had no direct reason to doubt Mervyn; a feeling wasn't enough to condemn someone, especially a lord. So, for now the Nazar would get to work on digging his first grave. Shame there were no volcanoes around here. Then again not everyone could observe Nazar burial rituals.

"Very well," Lucian said, unhooking the large calabash gourd from his hip and holding it out for Mervyn. "Hold this for me, please."

Something didn't add up.

Taking the shovel from Mervyn, placing his shakujo on the ground and hopefully handing him his improvised water bottle, Lucian got to work. Thankfully the moist ground made for easy excavation. One shovelful after another the beginnings of a grave took shape. Four and half feet down he hit rock, this was the end. He could no further. For two hours he had been digging and for two hours he had been thinking. He knew what didn't add up now.

Boosting himself up from the grave he had dug the boy stuck the shovel into the ground and picked up his shakujo leaning on it as a crutch. It was rather amazing how much digging a hole could take out of a person. Walking over to where Mervyn was Lucian took a deep breath.

"Before we bury them I have a question," Lucian stated wearily. "Why aren't you dead?"

Better to be blunt than allow for the man to dance out of the question. This was a legitimate concern after all. Two shinobi had been killed and their corpses burned. Yet a man of royalty had his hand sliced off and his life spared. At the very least Lucian figured it Mervyn would be a hostage at the worst he'd be a charred body like Ash and Rei. Bandits would have clearly had all the time in the world to do as they wished. That said, this worry was still not truly concrete and Lucian was only asking for his own peace of mind.

It didn't add up.

As Lucian worked away on the grave, his lordship took the time to collect all the thrown weapons the twins had flung and deflected as Rei attempted to control her grief stricken twin. He made sure to get all weapons, puppets, sewing materials and everything in the girls' possessions and heaped them into piles which he later sorted, stowing them into sacks made from the remains of the canvas tent. unsure of the sealing arts the girl used to store their weapons, he had little option but to fashion sacks which he really hoped the young acolyte would help carry on the way back home.

The question surprised him more than a little, not only was Lucian's question out of the norm but as a member of the church, Lord Mervyn Sloan commanded quite a lot more respect than this young man was affording him. "The Lady works in mysterious ways," he replied simply, walking over to the boy and holding his gaze steady. "If I had to imagine, I would say one of the girls protected me. As I already mentioned, I was not conscious for most o the exchange. All I know is that when I woke up, it ws far too late."

Should Lucian has anything else to say, he would listen before commencing with the burial ceremony. Carrying the burnt remains of the two girls and laying them into the shallow grave, he would begin to speak. He would talk of the girls returning to the creator, of their sins being washed away and of them uniting with their parents, forever in the arms fo the High Lady. Once the ceremony was complete, he would cover the grave with the first ceremonial shovel full of dirt, leaving Lucian to do the rest.

"We should camp here for the night and make or way back to Haven with dawn's earliest light tomorrow," the man suggested once they were done.

Perhaps Lucian would have given Mervyn more respect had he actually been a part of the man's faith, but as it stood that was not the case. The Nazar clan did not believe in one all powerful god above. Rather they were more open to the idea of spirits and a pantheon of gods. That said these gods did not demand strict worship, merely acknowledgement. Thus, clansmen were encouraged to the learn about other faiths and their parallels. This, of course, meant asking hard questions.

Yet here he was facing a conundrum. Now, Lucian was no medical guru, but he doubted that a person's hand could be removed with a thrown weapon. No, it would require a continuous application of force, which implied Mervyn must have been close enough to see his assailant. And then the attacker, having wounded the man, must have decided he simply wasn't worth cutting down. It still didn't connect. However, for now, all he could do was nod solemnly in response to Mervyn's explanation.

Then there was silence as Mervyn spoke. It was quite interesting how much one can learn about about a faith from their last rites. The Church of the High Lady was no exception here. When the time came Lucian began the process of covering the graves. This pricess was much quicker as it merely required shoving the large mound of dirt back into the hole and in half an hour it was done. Perhaps a week or two later the disturbed earth would once again be overtaken by the jungle, such was life.

Then Mervyn spoke again and suggested something that seemed preposterous. Was this man crazy, shell shocked, or a naive noble? Lucian wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry you lordship, but that seems like an exceedingly poor idea," Lucian began. "You were lucky enough to survive, but remaining here is tempting fate too much I am afraid; the bandits might return."

A pause as the Nazar boy surveyed the clearing-there was only one clear path that led from the main road.

"Might I suggest returning to an inn I stayed at last night just a ways up the main road?"

Honestly, Mervyn seemed to be out of sorts. It was probably shock though. The man had lost a hand; it had to be shock, right?

Lord Mervyn wasn't a fan of walking, in fact he had rather hoped that that a horse would miraculously appear here while they camped. But this young buck seemed to be insistent on the idea of moving. "I think the bandits have all left by now. If they wanted to return, they would be here and I would not," he tried but should the young acolyte still not show interest in camping, the older priest would sign heavily.

"Very well, give me a hand with these sacks, child," he would say, stooping on his ungainly feet to pick up the smallest, lightest of the bags, leaving the other three for Lucian.

"Let us make haste to the inn. Mayhaps we can find a flagon of ale for our troubles and maybe a few horses to see us through the journey home."

For all those who say with age comes wisdom, well, they probably haven't met Mervyn. Just because the bandits were not here now did not mean they could not be back at any moment. They had, after all, left so many weapons just lying about, which was another anomaly. Most bandits did not live as kings, weapons were things to be rationed. However, perhaps the bandits of Amegakure were different; Lucian only knew of the depraved bandits of Funkagakure. All that said, he had to set Mervyn straight.

"No, I would rather not test my luck and risk either my neck or yours," Lucian stated plainly. Luckily this plea to reason and common sense finally broke through to the clergyman who consented to go to the inn. Even to Lucian, who did not normally drink, ale sounded good. It was not that his upbringing precluded partaking, but rather that he found he did not much enjoy the taste of alcohol.

Not one to complain Lucian took the bags upon himself. One in his left hand and the other two tied firmly to the end of his shakujo, which rested on his shoulder. The weight was not overwhelming, but it was a wee bit annoying. At worst his shoulder might ache a bit upon his return to the inn.

Taking the lead Lucian found himself walking at a surprisingly slow and steady pace considering his burden. That said his pace still probably a bit faster than Mervyn could wobble. In little less than half an hour the pair would arrive at the inn Lucian had stayed at the night before. Greeted by the old man and his cat Lucian informed him that there would be another guest, Mervyn. He then asked about the possibility of ale.

The old innkeeper would lead the pair, assuming Mervyn followed Lucian, to the kitchen area where a gnarly looking wooden table sat and offer them a seat. Lucian opted for the seat where he had eaten breakfast a few hours before. Mervyn could sit where he wished. Once everyone was seated the innkeeper brought out a large cask and informed Lucian that he would have to pay by cask as he did not have enough visitors to serve it by the glass or mug. Casting a sideways glance at Mervyn, if he were truly there, Lucian would simply agree to the price.

And so began the night.

"Drink as much as you want," Said Lucian. "Drinks are on me."

The boy idly hoped the man was not much of a drinker as he doubted he would be any more pleasant drunk. However, in the mean time he occupied himself with an almost quarter mug of the ale. Perhaps he was tired, but the fruity beverage actually tasted half decent.

The inn proved further than the boy acolyte had promised, but his lordship had little choice then to struggle along he path behind the young male. Huffing and puffing, Lord Mervyn was truly out of breathe when the reached the unimpressive looking building. Still catching his breath, His Holiness let Lucian take care of checking in and asking about food and drink but the priest's expression did turn cheery when the inn keeper indeed found a cask of ale. His spirits were improved tenfold when the young man insisted that drinks be on him.

"Now that's what I like to hear," Mervyn chortled, squeezing his ample bunk down at the table and filling his mug generously. Taking a deep drink and polishing half of it off, the man finally breathed a sigh of relief. "It has not been an easy journey I don't mind admitting. First one of my accolades fell into the swamp and disappeared, then my page and my squire ran off, damn those degenerates and then I ran out of ale. Between that and all the walking and my mount stealing away in the dead of night, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't found me, boy." Another deep drink from his goblet and the mug was near empty, making his lordship reach for the bottle once more.

"Oh and those girls too of course," he added as an afterthought, senses slowly beginning to dull with ale and comfort. The food they were served could have been better but it also could have been a lot worse. And in the clergyman's experience, ale had the divine power to make everything feel better. "Drink up, lad. Holding your liquor is a talent that will never go to waste. Some religions hold with the no imbibing nonsense, we at the church of the High Lady appreciate the things She had granted us in Her infinite wisdom, drink up."

An hour passed as Lord Sloan ate and drank and talked, but mostly drank. He shared his wisdom on the church being the best vocation by far, he spoke of growing up at the palaces in relative comfort because he was always the chosen of the High Lady and - as the night wore on - he also spoke of the ninja that had infested their city like so many rats come in the night. "I of course would not judge another human being, ever," the man slurred in a tone that belied his declaration. "But I don't believe these shinobi are human beings. Do you know they do not cry out when cut? Or burnt. Those girls didn't make a single sound while being burnt alive, like they felt no pain. Truly monstrosities who know nothing of Her divine creations or mercy."

Nodding along with lazy contentment Lucian played his part well. Upon first coming to Hoshigakure he was not the most social person in the world. However, in visiting numerous sects and faiths the boy quickly developed his skills. Perhaps the most important skill he discovered was, surprisingly, listening. People loved to talk and often times listening was a wonderful way to learn, but also a great way to get to know a person. As Mervyn spoke Lucian learned; he learned more than he really wanted to as it turned out.

When Mervyn prompted Lucian to drink more the man did not respond in words. Rather he soundlessly topped off his mug. That said, he did not guzzle the entire entire thing down much like Mervyn. Instead he nursed the drink taking a few sips here and there. And yes, it still tasted awful; ale was not his drink of choice. Yet still he felt just a bit lightheaded, sadly such side effects could not be avoided entirely.

Then he dropped the bomb, Mervyn dropped the bomb.

His lordship began speaking of the two shinobi, Ash and Rei. from the onset it was clear the older man did not much appreciate shinobi. Of course, Lucian was used to such prejudice, living in Hoshigakure would do that for any shinobi. However, then the Mervyn's slurred speech took a turn for the worse. He spoke of details of Ash and Rei's deaths that only a person present, and fully conscious, could recount. Things were starting to fall into place, but there was more. He needed more, with a surge of adrenaline his lightheadedness cleared ever so slightly.

Better to play along.

"Oh, really?" Lucian prompted.

He had enough information for now, but better to get more. Hopefully, Mervyn would forget all this soon. Considering the quickly dwindling flagon of ale a loss of memory was something in making for Mervyn anyway. It would be easier if he forgot considering the circumstances, but Lucian had to remember.

Just keep nodding...

"Hnnngggg," Mervyn slurred, sure that he was making a fine point even in his drunken state. He was a man used to others following his every word and nothing had changed since he'd disposed of the girls. "Monsters really... sent 'em back to hell where the belong," he finished with a hiccup as he reached out for his mug once more, only to find it empty.

"Well, looks like the High Lady wishes for us to turn in," he declared, tipping his mug upside down. His lordship had lost track of how much he'd drunk but it was enough to give him that warn comfortable feeling he was rather fond of. "Best get in some sleep... then we get back home tomorrow... have a nice flagon of ale awaiting us at home, eh" With that, the man labored to his feet and, unless interrupted, would stumble his way up to the rooms Lucian had arranged for, falling asleep almost instantly in a deep, drunken stupor.

For a moment after Mervyn left Lucian did not move from his chair. He even dared to take one last sip of his ale, oddly it did not taste nearly as bad as his first sip. Perhaps that was how this whole thing worked? Of course, the young man had more pressing matters than how the ale tasted. No, if what Mervyn had said held even a shred of truth in it then the couple days would be crucial. Hell, the next night would be even more important.

A more impulsive shinobi might have killed Mervyn where he sat, but Lucian was not quite that impulsive and he was hardly a shinobi. So, instead he simply sat and thought. He thought and thought until the a small sliver of the moon hung high and the sky. He then retired for the night to what became a restless sleep. For now the right course of action was to wait, but his body wanted to act.

Rising with the sun the Nazar by did not have time for his daily meditations. Instead he quickly penned a letter to Mervyn. It outlined the fact that he, Lucian, would be going ahead to make sure there were no bandit ambushes on the way. This was of course a pretense to arrive at Hoshigakure before the man and hopefully have time to explain the situations to the necessary authorities.

Creating a two equal bundles of Ash and Rei's belongings he affixed one to either end of his Shakujo and put the whole contraption across his shoulders. It was going to be a long walk back, but he had a job to do. After all, Ash and Rei deserved justice, even in death. And so, Lucian left as he had come, in a cool unwavering rain.

[Exit. TWC: 2451, +12 stats. Lucian dug a grave and carried heavy objects, tell me that is not physical conditioning pls don't]

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