Sapienophobia

Chapter 17

He couldn't have been much older than I was at that time. But with the way the journals described him, he was a veteran thief and a pathological liar.

His mother brought him over for irregular visits when she had work. His grandmother was some forgotten hero of the days of yore; apparently, she saved the life of some human child when she was younger.

Funny how they made sure to mention that.

He adored her and she reciprocated. She said she "never had any reason to believe it was him" when the thieving started. Their family was well-off, as well-off as an Anide family could be in the lower provinces, especially considering their matriarch. Anything he could've wanted he only need ask to receive it.

It said that he began with smaller objects, a vase here, an unused antique there. Then he moved on to riskier game, jewelry and coins.

But why? What reason would he have? And why his grandma? I'm sure he knew that she'd deduce it was him soon or later.

The journal didn't say. Of course, it didn't.

So I made my own deductions with what I knew.

Maybe he felt that his parents neglected him, it would've been a good way to catch their attention. Heavily working parents often leave the majority of raising their children to others. I was left to Root.
Why am I looking for good reasons to thieve someone?
Maybe Sod was just greedy. Greed can lead people to steal for no good reason at all.
Can I believe that?

I moved to the next earliest one, dated a few months later, his birthday had passed somewhere in between it seemed.

He had stolen some savings from his grandmother's safe this time. Caught red-handed so she cast him out. When questioned on his reasoning he said he wanted to be a mage. He planned on using the money to enroll in a magic institute.

One sentence. One glossed-over mention in his second crime account summed up key information I needed to learn about my target.

That event was the catalyst.

So he wanted to learn magic. An impossible task.

It was a common fantasy that Anide children indulged in. I don't understand the appeal.

Why would he want to be like those demons? Their very ability to channel magic from the world around them is unnatural.

The mana engraved into the tension lines of our skin was preferable. Sure, we can't cause lift boulders with the wave of a hand but we needn't worry about falling victim to things such as heat stroke or hypothermia.

Humans were frailer in that sense.

Like butterflies conjuring tornadoes.

I supposed it was nature's way of balancing things. A hell of a poor job it was doing so far.

I knew this because of the ancestral texts that Root begged me to read and decipher with him in the library, not because I had ever been exposed to such climes.

At any rate, once Sod realized that he'd never be capable of magic or anything of the sort, thus initiated his gradual descent into destructive behavior.

An ordinary tale. He believed he could accomplish anything and was sorely disappointed. So he figured he might as well be the damned Anide everyone wants him to be.

I never planned to fall victim to the same thing. I believed I was a good judge of my abilities and others'; if anything ever disappointed me, it would be a fault of mine for trusting it in the first place.

There has to be more to the story than this. That still doesn't explain why it's his grandma. If he wanted to steal money, the unsuspecting would be best.
Sounds like something dumb I would do. He probably didn't think of that.
No, I would've never purposely tried to surround myself with humans learning magic. Maybe he actually hated his grandma.
Be that as it may, there aren't always clear-cut answers. It's fine if I just have the gist.

I didn't feel the need to look at the rest of the texts right then. Or ever. Suddenly, knowing how Sod's story ended made the thought of flipping through the rest of the accounts very boring.

"He stole this from that person", "he didn't pay for that"; such predictability was sure to be present in the other texts. So I didn't feel like bothering.

I was so motivated earlier, what happened?

Lethargy weighed on my shoulders. I plopped on my bed and groaned. I zoned out, watching the threads of lent that were standing up on my pillow ebb with my exhales.

These books aren't telling me anything about how to kill Sod.
I only looked through two.
I only needed to look through two. I've seen enough.
Worthless.

I rolled to analyze the ceiling from my position on the covers. The juxtaposition from the infirmary tickled me.

Wait.

I sat up.

I thought studying Sod's victims would tell me more about his habits so I can avoid him. Maybe I should be focused on what Sod avoids, the kind of people that he fears to thieve from.
So it's not that he wanted to steal from his grandma, he just didn't want to steal from someone else.
Someone he fears.

We really were the same.

I started to look through his tax evasion reports.

His avoidance tactics should be a marvel.

When the tax collectors came to one of his known locations, he was reported to have "scaled buildings to avoid conference."

Are tax collectors really that scary?

If an Anide didn't pay, they'd be imprisoned for an unnecessarily long time, so I supposed so.

I'll have to set a trap or something he can't escape. But one I won't fall in either. In that fog, it's too easy to lose one's sense of direction.
Safety first.
Will he suspect me if I look the way I do? No one would know I'm a butcher. Would he run if he did?

I needed to make myself look like a threat. Otherwise, once I made my move, he'd fight me head-on and I'd definitely lose.

I needed to get the jump on him.

I know he's still in the Murks because there are no reports of anyone seeing him anywhere else. Not even false alarms.
Can I be sure? He could have recently moved and the reports haven't shown up yet.
I should check again.
Are the reports entered in real-time? I'll trust Vera for that. She gave me this bounty in this province specifically.
Would I leave the Murks if I were him?
No. The woods are pretty deserted; I wouldn't move unless I knew someone was searching for me.
Will I able be to set up a trap in that humidity? With these injuries?

I looked at my left hand.

Forget that, will I be able to run away when shit goes south? My stamina doesn't mean much when unconsidered factors come into play, in case my encounter with the wolves wasn't evidencing enough.

I hung my feet over the edge of my bed, testing how long I could kick them before I started getting tired.

About thirty minutes.
I want to give up.