Mountains and Buffalo.

Chapter 35: Yanking Speakers.

It shocked me that my mind could produce his name on demand: Mason. The only memory I had of him seemed so distant, but the impression he left was stamped into my very being.

He and Pars shook hands and exchanged pats on the back. It was clear from that alone that they knew each other well, and with that in mind, I interjected before it devolved into an interlude of small talk.

"Mason? I didn't expect to see you here at all!"

He averted his eyes to mine, and his mein contorted. There were trace amounts of joy in there, but his face was conquered by concern.

"Ha, Kenneth, right? What are you doing here?"

"It's a long, long story, and I do not have the energy to share it. I'm happy to see you well, however."

"Right. It's naturally good to see you well too."

He extended his hand for a shake, and I accepted. It was a quick interaction, but I made sure to pave the way for it to continue.

"Let's chat sometime later, alright?"

He nodded at my comment. Pars, noticing the end of our conversation, spoke up to continue his business.

"Goodness, I was worried about you. I thought you might've been one of the ones who died in the courtyard."

Mason solemnly shook his head.

"No, I was defending the Foreign Pillar at the time. I caught wind of the chaos, but–"

Then, he revealed his left hand. I hadn't noticed it until now, how he was hiding it within the flaps of his coat. But it felt wrong to say he was hiding it, for the carpet of bandages did so stupendously already.

"J-Jeez!"

"It still hasn't recovered. I couldn't fight and was losing blood, so I went into hiding... I'll tell you the rest later, actually."

He glanced behind him and at the new hires. They were a diverse group, most being men, but their armaments and attire drastically varying. Some were occupied with themselves, others looked skittish, and a few looked at us with gazes of differing intensity. A closer inspection made me feel less confident about this group, but their presence elicited relief either way.

"You're right. We can't be impolite to our guests, can we?"

Pars walked around Mason and took a step forward. He looked ready to speak but stopped after inhaling, quietly calling for Dave. They whispered something to each other, but I was just close enough to where a swift lean of the ear caught their words.

"Where's Lola? I thought she was supposed to be here."

"She was, but she's still reeling from her battle. And, well, you know what. I'm here as a representative."

"So you're making me do all the talking!?"

"You do it far more than I do. It seems only natural."

If Pars had the breathing room, he would've bellowed a groan. But he managed to restrain himself, facing the group of mercenaries with a clearing of the throat.

"Attention, everyone. I'd like to begin by thanking you for coming, and assuring you all that compensation will arrive."

"Phew," one of the burlier ones exhaled.

"To make sure everyone is on the same page, I will reiterate the situation: we are in a battle against Hard-Bringer, an organization whose viciousness needs no introduction. All of you are being asked by official executive powers to lend your aid in the reclamation of this precious city. Your lives are not guaranteed. Do you understand, or do any of you wish to withdraw?"

No dissenting gestures followed his surprisingly elegant speech. The looks on their faces gathered further determination. Their hearts didn't waver one nudge despite the gravitas being spelled for them. I was envious. I was amazed.

Pars suddenly raised a pointed finger, and in a booming, deafening voice yelled the following:

"That's what I love to hear! Follow me, everyone! In the coming fight, we battle the infamous!"

–

–

–

The label of 'help' quickly began to lose its luster. The outright appearances of the back-up made me wary of being ahead of them, and only having 3 men as a barrier between us. It wasn't as if they looked like thugs; they were a collective group, after all. Around half of them looked like thugs, and the other half donned apparel so unusual or basic that I wondered if they were all there in the head. Perhaps it was an issue of sincerity, but any person who cherished their life would understand that clashing against Hard-Bringer had no room for levity.

I constantly glanced back at them. Naturally, it was difficult to spot the finer details, but the general impression I had was sour. Maybe it was strange how the same group of folks who eased my tension now caused me deep unrest.

No, it wasn't possibly strange, it was strange. But regardless of that, I couldn't help feeling the way I did.