Gauntlet (Old)

Part 2: Chapter 7

We arrived half an hour later, greeted by a large arch boasting a piece of unvarnished wood, with a sequence of lines having been carved out of it. Corru pulled the hood of her cloak as far forward as it would go and beckoned me to follow her as she entered the city.

We walked along a straight road, primitive and deteriorated houses lining both sides. The road was filled with people who looked like Corru, but grey in skin tone and void of markings, not to mention covered in dirt, with very little care put into their hygiene. I couldn't help but notice that each one we passed either stared at me with disgust, or began walking faster. These people were quite hypocritical, given their current state.

As we moved further toward a central ruin, the houses became progressively larger and fancier, despite being just as run down. A few metres from the fallen caste, Corru changed trajectory rather suddenly, walking into the building to her left, whose door triggered a small bell as it creaked open. I followed. The door swung closed and she took her hood off, despite there being two of the local residents inside. She looked up at the person behind the counter, who smirked in response, closely followed by a friendly scoff.

"Vjot ot Japvis, e janep ucwouatma," she started, still in monotone, "Ji xomm sipuwevib prugan's juatis."

He gave a brief laugh, "Duafp'v jimqu csoph epuvjis upi, duafp aua?" Corru looked unimpressed. I was lost.

The other person, who seemed to have been stocking the shelves with all varieties of metal goods, looked over to me and smiled, "Guys, " he started, "he doesn't speak Prugan."

The other looked over to him, annoyed, "Ximm, ov't auas kuc vu vseptmevi, Haesf!"

He turned back to me, having lost his cocky demeanor, "He said, 'Well, it's your job to translate' followed by throwing a rather potent insult at me," he turned his head back to the other, regaining some vigor, at least, "He doesn't seem to view it as one, though. In any of cases, I'll translate Prugan to English for you," he laughed sarcastically and looked to one side, "I got experience doing it for the walking genocide," Corru lunged a dagger pulled from her leather armor inches from his face before he could continue.

She sighed before speaking, calming down considerably, "You don't say that name, remember?" she said, monotonously, although struggling to stay that way. He appeared unfazed.

"Guardian's Chambers, fine," he said, frustrated.

She thrust the dagger uncomfortably close to his face, almost snarling. "That one either," she said through gritted teeth, the monotone nowhere to be found. He backed off at this point, and she lowered the dagger in response, although slowly. I didn't think Corru was right in her response, but neither did my preservation instincts in regards to speaking up. She turned back to the cashier and spoke in Prugan again, translated by the recovering personality of the other, "You know which house he can start with?"

"Try Fatv's, he never minded humans that much," he replied, looking at her, as if expecting opposition. Instead, she turned, don her hood and left. We took the path circling the ruins, and showcasing all the most well-built houses, and how much age can effect their charm.

"Is this the castle that shadow guy destroyed?" I asked, pointing at the ruins. I was given no response. The path was akin to that of a roundabout, and Corru took the second exit. It looked like a mirror of the first path, with the exception of different houses. She approached a house near the paths exit. It was nothing special, but built primitively, even taking into consideration the surrounding houses. She knocked on the door.

A hoarse voice called out weakly in response, "Who was the best of the Three?"

Corru let out a sigh of disappointment, before finally replying, "Justin."

Not a moment later, the door swung open. An obese man with grey hair stood in the rotted archway and grinned, almost hiding the mess of his interior, "E xunep ug huuf vetvi. Xjev?" He turned to me and squinted, before bursting out in laughter, "Ah, a human! What brings you to these humble lands? Here to finally pick up the torch dropped by your great ancestors?"

A fist flew through his face, releasing with it the remaining frustration Corru had bottled up.

"He is here to fix your house," she started, having regained her composure and once again monotonous, "no torches will be picked up today, Haesf."

Smiling slightly too widely, he bowed and said, "A Haesf? No greater position could I have ever aske-" The full force of Corru's knee interrupted him. She spat next to his unconscious body. Corru scared me. Corru had never scared me. How was I supposed to be scared by someone incapable of emotions? How was I now supposed to stay calm, knowing the wrath that the almost android-like demeanor hid from me?

Corru paused for a moment, eyes widening for just a second as she looked at me, before shutting off once more, as if she were a robot rebooting. This whole experience had me more confused than when I was first dropped here.

"As you might have noticed," she started, "this place is quite run down. It just so happens that there is an obstacle inside, however, and we will therefore be unable to renovate this building at current. We will retu-"

"It isn't just some obstacle," I started, regretting every word, but unable to stop myself, "it's a dude, who wouldn't have been a problem if you hadn-"

"I hadn't done anything to a 'dude', I had forced a Prugan into a deep sleep," she replied, "Unless you have any intention of dragging him out of the one place he feels safe, he is in the way of renovation." Annoyance caused by her inhumanity became stronger than the fear. I grabbed him and began dragging him out of his home.

"Is your intention to simply allow others to gain dorrals free of charge for the next few hours?"

"Well, he isn't much of an obstacle now, is he?", I replied, determined to treat this Prugan with respect. There was silence. Corru sighed. She pulled a small pouch from his pocket, containing coins which were only visible due to the tears lining it. She threw it at me, staring blankly at the sky. She was stiff, but subtly so.

I dropped the pouch, "I'm going to earn the bloody money, now how do I fix this house?"

"You simply don't," she began, "I will allow you to fix the houses of people remotely capable of morality."

"Then I'll go fix someone else's house, but no matter what, I'm earning my money."

"That logically makes this money mine," she said as she poured the contents into her own, larger pouch. I swiped at the now marginally-fuller container, and retrieved it.

"Have you any idea how many daggers are able to fit into leather armor such as my own?" she asked, making no attempt to grab the pouch. I handed the pouch back to her, ashamed that I gave into the fear.