TravelingDreamer
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B4—Chapter 28: Sometimes, People are the Worst Monsters
🕑 Added 2024-10-29 19:52:28 +0000 UTCAfter two relentless days of torrential rain, the sky finally cleared, giving the slums a break from the unending downpour. I’d hoped—maybe a bit too optimistically—that all this water might improve the state of things, maybe even rinse away some of the muck that clung to every corner. But, of course, that didn’t happen. Sure, the buildings looked a bit fresher, but the grime had just been relocated, collecting in every crevice, filling the alleys and streets with puddles murkier than the dirt itself. At least the rain had done one small favor; the air was a touch fresher, and the stench wafting over from the other side of the barricade was a shade less pungent.
We turned invisible and set off to look for people to learn the local language. After only a few meters, Rue suddenly yelped, “Yikes! Rue want to go home!”
“What happened?” I asked.
He reappeared, and there he was, with both of his front feet sunk into the muck. With an exaggerated sigh, he yanked his paws free, shook them off, and immediately cast Clean on his feet and booties, looking every bit as disgruntled as he sounded. Without a second thought, he turned around and trotted back toward where my house had stood.
“John open house. Roe stay home today,” he declared, his tone leaving zero room for negotiation.
I opened up the house for Rue, letting him settle in before getting back to the task at hand. The barricade stood just ahead—a nearly two-meter-high mess of broken wood, stones, scraps of cloth, and even some torn-up animal skins. Looked like they’d piled up anything and everything they could find, just to make this sorry excuse for a blockade. The whole thing was barely holding together, leaning in places like it would collapse if you gave it a hard enough look.
What exactly were they trying to keep out—or keep in? A hole in the wall nearby suggested something either entered or escaped, but other than that, the place was dead quiet, as if even the slum dwellers were giving this place a wide berth.
“Do you need me to take you over the barrier?” I asked Al.
“No. If I run, I can jump over it.”
We walked along the narrow, crumbling streets of the slums, which felt almost eerily deserted. Every so often, we’d catch a glimpse of a woman trudging by, arms piled high with worn clothes or balancing a basket filled with who knows what. Their skin was a deep, dark brown, glistening with sweat under the muted light, and their features were sharp and guant, likelye malenurished. Occasionally, a few children darted through the shadows, their skin even darker than the women’s, faces smeared with the dirt that seemed to cling to everything here. But beyond these fleeting glimpses, the place felt like a ghost town.
For three hours, we wandered around, hoping to find people talking so we could pick up the language. But it was as if the slums themselves had swallowed everyone up. Silence filled the gaps between the dilapidated buildings, and there were almost no people.
“Where are all the men?” Al asked telepathically.
“Probably in the fields,” Mahya said.
“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “I suspected as much. Still, there comes a point when a man can no longer handle the demands of fieldwork—whether due to injury or simply age. So where are the older men, those who can no longer labor? And the younger ones, the boys just old enough to be on their own but not yet ready for real work? The only boys we’ve seen are barely ten.”
That was an excellent question.
We finally emerged onto a wider street, one of the few places in the slums with any signs of commerce. The scattered stalls lining the street looked as worn and tired as their owners, a handful of them offering shriveled fruits, wilted vegetables, and cuts of meat that had gone from questionable to outright suspicious. A few tattered blankets and frayed tunics hung limply at another stall, as if even the clothes themselves had given up.
At the fruit and vegetable stall, three women were in a heated argument with the merchant, voices sharp and angry. We stepped to the side, paid the mana to pick up on the language, and listened in as the words gradually started to make sense.
One woman turned on her heel and left, muttering under her breath. The other two stayed. As I picked up more and more words, I understood what was going on. One of them, her face set with defiance, argued fiercely about the price, waving a half-rotten squash at the merchant to make her point. The other woman, standing hunched beside her, spoke with a quieter desperation, pleading for a discount to feed her children. Her eyes darted to the bruised apples and wilted greens with an intensity that spoke volumes.
The merchant’s face twisted in irritation, and his response was immediate and loud, his curses cutting through the street like a slap. The woman’s plea quickly dissolved into quiet tears, her shoulders trembling as she finally turned away and shuffled down the street, her empty hands clutching at her sides.
I felt Mahya shift beside me, a subtle movement that told me she was slipping away toward the woman. I kept still, watching the scene unfold, keeping my mind focused on listening to the language around us. After a few minutes, her voice sounded in my mind, calm and matter-of-fact. “I gave her food.”
“Good,” Me and Al said together.
We drifted between the stands, keeping our ears open, absorbing fragments of conversation until I felt a decent grasp of the language settling in. As we listened, we spoke telepathically to each other, practicing phrases and testing out words, each exchange sharpening our understanding. Bit by bit, the sounds transformed from a jumble of foreign tones into something I could finally make sense of.
"I'm going to walk around the slums. I want to see what's going on here," I said.
"Should we remain together, or shall we go separately?" Al asked.
"I don’t think we need to stay together. There's no one here who could pose an actual threat to us," Mahya replied. "But just to be safe, it’s best if we stay invisible for now."
With Mahya’s words in mind, I ventured deeper, letting the slums sprawl out ahead of me like some kind of sunbaked labyrinth, each building stacked up on the last in a way that screamed desperation over design. Narrow alleys twisted and turned between the rough stone walls, cluttered with faded cloth awnings barely holding up. The market street continued for another few hundred meters, with a patchwork of battered stalls—some barely more than crates and planks slapped together, draped with old fabric for shade.
The stalls sold a mishmash of things: baskets of shriveled veggies, piles of dried grains, and meat that looked like it was just on the edge of “not quite fresh.” A few offered clothes that had seen better days and blankets patched over so many times the original fabric was a mystery. The air was thick with the smell of spices and dust, mixed with sweat, excrements and a whiff of something rotting.
Above, the buildings loomed over the street, walls chipped and cracked, with balconies hanging out at strange angles, some barely held up by half-rotten beams. Tattered cloths and fraying blankets hung from window grates, faded colors peeking out from layers of dust. Shaky wooden stairs clung to the sides of buildings, winding up in dizzying patterns, and the occasional rooftop bridge stretched between them—nothing more than boards and frayed ropes that looked like they’d fall apart if you sneezed too hard.
It felt deserted at first, but now and then, I’d glimpse someone slipping through a doorway or a pair of eyes watching from behind a ragged curtain. Kids darted around, barefoot and fast, weaving through alleys with that easy stealth of people who knew every corner of the place. Occasionally, a pair or trio of guards would appear, and the streets would empty in an instant as soon as the residents spotted them.
Towards the middle of the day, I spotted a small group of kids huddled together in a narrow alley, whispering in frantic tones. As I got closer, I noticed one of them—a girl around eight or nine—sitting on the ground with her leg at a sickening angle, the bone jutting out through torn flesh. Her face was streaked with clean lines where her tears had carved paths through the grime, and she was biting her lip to stifle her cries. Her friends—two girls and a boy—hovered around her, murmuring words meant to comfort, though they looked just as terrified.
I slipped around the corner, let my invisibility drop, and approached slowly. The moment her friends saw me, their eyes widened, and they scattered, sprinting off without a second glance. The girl tried to stand and follow, panic in her eyes, but the attempt only made her scream in pain as she collapsed back down, clutching her injured leg.
"Easy, easy," I said gently, holding up my hands to show I meant no harm. "You’ll be fine. I’m a healer. I’ll take care of your leg."
She stared at me, too exhausted to resist, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. I knelt beside her, cast Anesthesia, and placed my hands on her leg. Gritting my teeth, I tugged to set the bone back into place, feeling it snap cleanly back under her skin. The sight wasn’t pretty, but with a steady pulse of magic, I coaxed the bone to knit and the flesh to mend until the wound closed, leaving only faint lines where the skin had broken.
After a moment, her eyes fluttered open, locking onto me with a look somewhere between shock and disbelief. Her entire body trembled, her small hands gripping the ground as if she were clinging to reality itself. I didn’t think it was fear that made her shake—more likely just pure exhaustion. Healing took energy, and judging by her thin frame and hollow cheeks, she had little to spare.
I helped her sit up and handed her a bottle of water.
"Drink. You need the fluids," I said.
She stared at me with a mixture of fear and wonder, but eventually took the bottle and drank, her small hands clutching it tightly as if it might disappear. Once she’d drained it, I pulled out a plate of beef steak and steamed vegetables and offered it to her. "Eat."
The moment the plate was in her hands, she lunged at the food like a starving animal, grabbing the steak first. Her fingers barely touched it before she pulled back with a yelp, shaking her hand from the heat.
“Careful,” I said gently, suppressing a smile. “It’s hot. Take your time. Let it cool a bit before you dive in.”
She nodded, her eyes never leaving the steak. Blowing on it with the kind of focus only hunger brings, she gingerly picked it up again, then tore into it with a fervor, each bite quick and eager as if she feared the food might vanish at any moment.
I heard quiet shuffling behind me and turned to see her friends creeping back, their wide eyes glued to the plate in her hands.
“Sit down,” I said, gesturing to the space beside her. “I have more.”
“Why?” the boy asked, his eyes narrowed.
“Why what?” I asked.
“Why are you giving us food?” he pressed, his tone cautious.
“Because you’re hungry,” I said simply.
One girl narrowed her eyes and whispered too loudly to the others, “He wants to fatten us up so he can eat us.”
“No!” the girl I’d healed protested, a fierce look on her face as she put her leg forward for them to see. “He’s a good man. Look—he fixed my leg!”
They all stared at her leg, their mouths dropping open in disbelief.
“You promise you’re not going to eat us?” the same girl asked, still looking unsure.
I chuckled, keeping my voice gentle. “I promise. I don’t eat children—only cows.”
The three of them huddled together, whispering. The girls seemed ready to accept the food, but the boy still looked hesitant, casting wary glances my way. I heard their conversation; the girls insisting the food looked too good to pass up while the boy urged caution.
Just as I saw him convincing them to leave, I spoke up, keeping my tone steady and reassuring. “I swear, I mean no harm. Sit down and eat. It’s safe.”
I pulled out two more plates of food and held them up for the kids to see. That did it—they broke. The girls lunged forward, snatching the plates from my hands, and the boy looked like he was about to wrestle them for it. Before he could, I pulled out another plate and held it out to him.
“Careful, the food’s hot. Don’t burn yourself,” I warned, though I doubted they were really listening.
They moved a few steps back, pressing their backs against the wall of the opposite building, then tore into the food like a pack of hungry wolves, not a scrap left untouched.
The girl with the broken leg—now whole again—finished first. She let out a loud burp, then laughed, her grin smeared with bits of food.
“Feeling better?” I asked.
She nodded, still smiling.
“What’s your name?”
She hesitated, then said, “Sky.” The word was Taap in the local language.
I held out my hand to her, giving her a warm smile. “Nice to meet you, Sky. I’m John.”
She stared at my hand, clearly baffled by the gesture. Switching tactics, I gently tapped her shoulder. “I’d like to check you over, just to make sure everything’s okay. Do you agree?”
She tilted her head, frowning, a flicker of suspicion in her eyes. “Check what?”
“I fixed your leg, but I want to make sure you’re healthy overall,” I explained.
She looked at me for a long moment, scrunching her entire face in skepticism. After a few seconds, she finally gave a hesitant nod, her gaze wary but laced with curiosity.
I cast Diagnose and discovered she was in rough shape. Because of a long-term lack of calcium and essential nutrients, her muscles were weak, barely able to support her frame, and her bones had become brittle. Signs of chronic malnutrition were clear in her body—her thin skin lacked the healthy elasticity it should have, and her stunted growth suggested years of inadequate nutrition. Her liver and other organs were under stress, likely from the strain of constantly having to function on an empty stomach. If left untreated, this level of malnutrition would eventually lead to permanent damage or a significantly weakened immune system, making her vulnerable to even the most minor infections. She wasn’t just hungry, she was running on empty. If I was going to help her, she needed more than just a single meal; she needed sustained care and a diet rich in vitamins, protein, and minerals to even begin rebuilding what she'd lost.
“What happened to your leg?” I asked her.
“The enforcer broke it.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I didn’t move fast from his way.”
“Why didn’t you move?”
“He was behind me, I didn’t see him!” She pouted, frowning hard. “Mom say she have eyes in the back of her head, but I don’t.” She crossed her arms, sounding thoroughly annoyed.
"The enforcers walk around here?" I asked.
She nodded, a wary look crossing her face.
"Do you know a place where the enforcers don’t go?"
“Why?” she asked, scrunching up her face with that same suspicious look.
"I want to help you and make sure you’re fully healed," I explained, "but I'd rather not run into any enforcers."
“He’s gonna eat you!” the other girl shouted again, her voice high and alarmed.
With a sigh, I pulled out another plate, took a few bites, and made a show of chewing. After a moment, I said, “You see me eating? Once I finish this, I won’t have room for any children. Show me a safe spot where the enforcers won’t bother us, and I promise I’ll give you more food and make sure you’re okay. How about it?”
Sky walked to her friends, and they huddled together, whispering urgently. The boy and the suspicious girl still believed I was planning to eat them, their faces full of doubt. But Sky and the third girl, to my mild amusement, took it upon themselves to defend my honor. Finally, the third girl whispered, “He gave us more food than we even have on our bones. He doesn’t need us for eating.”
After a bit of thinking, the two suspicious ones nodded, reluctantly accepting her logic.
The boy stepped forward and looked up at me. “Come.”
“What’s your name?” I asked, following him.
“Flower.”
“Nice to meet you, Flower. I’m John.”
He gave a quick nod, then turned and led me through the maze of narrow, twisting alleys, winding our way higher up the terraced buildings. We climbed up several sets of crooked steps until we reached the top of the last building. At the rooftop, there was a room that had seen better days—one wall was completely gone, and only half the roof remained, leaving it open to the sky.
“The enforcers don’t come up here. They’re lazy,” he said, nodding with a serious expression.
“How old are you?” I asked, curious.
“Eleven summers.”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised. I wouldn’t have guessed any of them were older than eight or nine, malnutrition having stunted them more than I’d realized.
I set up a table and chairs, laying out a generous spread of fruits and vegetables. As I began peeling what needed peeling, I looked at the kids and said, "Eat."
The suspicious girl eyed a Cobalt Squash and pointed. "You’re supposed to cook that."
“I know,” I said with a small smile. “But cooking destroys a lot of the vitamins—and vitamins are what you need the most right now. So eat what you can raw.”
“What’s vianims?” Flower asked, his face scrunched up in confusion.
“Vitamins,” I corrected, gently. “They’re special nutrients found in fruits and vegetables, and they’re very important for keeping your body strong and healthy. So eat as much as you can—even if your belly feels full—and afterward, I’ll use magic to help your body absorb everything, so you’ll start getting stronger and healthier.”
They needed no more encouragement and dove into the food with all the enthusiasm of the truly starving. For a solid half hour, the only sound was chewing. Sky finished first, leaning back and hugging her belly with a satisfied sigh. I placed my hands on her shoulders, split my mind, casting Healing Touch with one hand and Diagnosis with the other. I could feel the food breaking down in her stomach, each nutrient absorbed and directed where it was most needed. Within minutes, her stomach was empty again.
“Eat more,” I said, giving her an encouraging nod.
She looked up at me, wide-eyed and shocked, but quickly shrugged and went back to the food, not about to question a good thing.
That’s how the next three hours went—I guided the food through their bodies, making sure they absorbed every bit of nourishment, then encouraged them to keep eating. In the process, I picked up a few details about my new companions. The suspicious girl’s name was Branch, and the third girl went by Stone. The names here were definitely something else. All of them were eleven, and next year Flower was set to start working in the fields. He was impatient for that day to come, mostly because field workers got a midday meal.
After three hours of intense eating and healing, the transformation was nothing short of miraculous. The four children in front of me were almost unrecognizable. Each of them had grown by at least five centemeters, their bodies filling out in a way that gave them structure and strength where there had been only frail bones and hollow cheeks before. Their faces, once sharp and gaunt, were now rounder and healthier, their eyes brighter, and their skin had taken on a healthy glow, no longer the sallow, patchy tone of malnutrition.
Sky’s thin arms had gained some muscle, her posture straighter and more confident, and the others were the same—Branch, who’d once looked so suspicious, now stood with a slight grin, her body no longer just skin and bones. Flower, always watchful, seemed to have found fresh energy, his stance shifting from weary to alert. Even Stone, who had barely spoken, seemed visibly stronger, her hollow cheeks now rounded with a youthful fullness that made her look her age.
“Want to take some food to your families?” I asked.
They huddled together, whispering quickly, and then turned back, shaking their heads. Flower looked up at me, his face serious. “If the enforcers see the food, they’ll take it and beat us.”
I nodded, understanding the grim reality of their situation. “Are there other children around here in the same shape as you?”
They all stared at me like I’d just asked the world’s dumbest question.
“All the children…” Stone said quietly, her voice hesitant.
Right. Not my brightest moment.
“Alright, here’s what we’ll do. I need to head home for now. Tomorrow morning, gather your friends and bring them here. I’ll help them the same way I helped you.”
“How many kids?” Sky asked, tilting her head.
“Each of you bring five friends,” I said, hoping it was a manageable number.
“Come on, I’ll show you the way back,” Flower offered, already moving toward the stairs.
“No need,” I replied with a small smile. “I know how to get back from here. Just go home, and tomorrow morning, meet me here with your friends.”
They nodded and started down the stairs. Just before they reached the first turn, Sky suddenly stopped, turned back, and ran over to me. Without a word, she threw her arms around me in a quick, fierce hug, then darted back to her friends, her steps lighter as she caught up with them.
It felt good to help. Especially kids.
I turned invisible and flew back home. Inside, I found Mahya sitting in the living room, focused on disassembling a rifle like we’d seen the enforcers carrying.
“Where did you get that?” I asked, eyeing the pieces spread out across the table.
“I killed three guards,” she replied in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking up.
I sputtered. “Why?!”
“One of them raped a woman, and the other two cheered him on and waited for their turn.”
“Is she alright?” I asked, my tone more serious.
“Yes,” Mahya said, her voice calm. “I gave her health and Essence of Oblivion potions.”
I frowned, the name ringing a bell. “Why does that sound familiar?”
“It’s one of Al’s drug potions. Helps people forget bad memories.”
“Oh, right. I remember now,” I replied, nodding.
Al shifted beside us, his gaze a little shifty. Clearing his throat, he said, “I… also killed two guards.”
“Why?” I asked, eyebrows raised.
“They were chasing children with whips, beating them.”
I sighed heavily. “Did anyone see you two?”
“Of course not!” Mahya snapped, offended. “I’m not stupid.”
“No,” Al added, shaking his head. “I was invisible, and I stored them before the children turned around.”
“Where are they?” I asked.
In response, five bodies appeared on the floor before me. I heaved another sigh, looking down at the pile. I said to the core, “Absorb them and return all their stuff.”
“Why do you need their stuff?” Al asked.
“Because our clothes look too different."
“Good idea,” Mahya said with a nod. “So, what did you do today?”
“I healed some children."
Both of them stared at me, clearly waiting for more.
“I came across a girl with a broken leg,” I explained. “One guard—by the way, here they’re called enforcers—broke it because she didn’t move out of his way fast enough. After healing her, I found out that all the kids here are severely malnourished. They showed me a place the enforcers don’t reach, so I spent the rest of the day feeding them and using magic to help their bodies absorb the nutrients.”
“This place is terrible,” Al muttered, his expression dark.
“Yes,” I agreed, nodding.
“Do you want to leave?” Mahya asked. “We’ve learned the language, so we’re set. From the woman I helped, I found out this city’s called Tolarib, so we can always say we’re from here if needed.”
“Not yet,” I replied. “I promised the kids I’d help their friends too.”
“When?” Mahya asked.
“Tomorrow. They’ve got a spot on one of the rooftops where the enforcers don’t go. I plan to meet them there and help.”
“I will join you,” Al said, folding his arms. “My health potions will save you mana and time.”
“Thank you."
Mahya cracked her knuckles. “I’m going to wander around and find a few more of these bastard enforcers.”
After that lively exchange, I headed to the kitchen. I’d need to prepare a lot of nutritious food for tomorrow.
