The Call of Crows

Chapter 12: The Fool

I was thrown aside and lost consciousness. Yes. They'd believe that, wouldn't they?

Peng had been running for more than a while through the thick and dense foliage of the Sklaveni forests. Hell, the sky was already orange with dusk's first advance.

While before, he'd been fleeing, he was now trying to find his way back. He'd fled west, and had been heading back for some time now. His companions weren't anywhere to be found, so this situation had unfortunately devolved into a fit of aimless wandering.

They must've continued on without him. Why wouldn't they? And why did he continue to search for them? He should just head east on his own.

"You ask good questions."

Peng stopped in his tracks and looked around wildly for the source of the voice.

"It is the duty of every good engineer to ask good questions, wouldn't you agree?"

"Sh-show yourself!" Peng raised his spear, looking frantically through the trees.

"But questions are only good if you haven't already assumed the answer."

A figure stepped out of the shadows. Peng aimed his spear at them.

It was a man, but...also not. The setting sun gleamed off metal lining that was seemingly embedded into his skin. Skin made of...wood? Segmenting lines ran throughout the man's face and arms, making him look like an ultra-realistic marionette. Ignoring all that, though, he looked like a middle-aged Nikan man.

"Who are you?" Peng demanded, tightening his grip on his weapon to prevent the slipping of his sweating palms.

"You already know." The figure spoke in Nikan.

"The Fool Carpenter." Peng didn't say the words actively. They just came out of his mouth.

"It's been a long time since you've called to me."

Peng shook his head, "What the hell is going on? What are you talking about?"

"Ah, see, those are good questions." The Fool Carpenter said, "So I'll give you an answer this time. I'm your Shedim."

Peng scoffed. When the Carpenter maintained this guise of seriousness, he furrowed his brow, "I don't have the Plague."

"Don't call it a plague, please." the Carpenter sighed, "You have Scars, though. On your head. Under your hair."

"H-How is this happening, how can you speak?"

The wooden man cracked his neck, eliciting rusty squeaks rather than actual cracking. "I was sealed off thanks to some magical bullshit the Nikan use on their citizens. I think I finally managed to break it. And I can speak because we've been bonded for a hell of a long time. It takes time to learn language, you know."

Peng shook his head and focused his inquiry. "Regardless of whether that's true-which, I highly doubt-why are you here?"

"Your allies are in danger." the Carpenter said.

"They aren't my allies." Peng insisted.

"Yet you search for them."

Peng clicked his tongue "It's not like I want to. They've either gone and gotten themselves killed or left without me. But I'm not exactly able to just up and leave. I'm not a survivalist."

The Carpenter shook his head, "It's the same shit with you. Over and over and over. The guild, the university, the Adept's Association, the army and now this. You know the Nikan wouldn't kill people as powerful as them without trying to get some personal glory out of a capture."