Ch. 52 - Two Weeks
Two weeks before the tragedy.
***
Ever since Bancho's death, Prope Portam's atmosphere shifted.
It wasn't a safety measure, such as more guard units appearing or new laws being enacted in place of the old ones, to hopefully prevent a tragedy of this sort from happening again.
Because, in all honesty, and as the story went, nothing changed in hindsight on that Gorro night. It was more of a common fact amongst residents of who lies in the Grovian cemetery.
Graveyards were always a rather strange topic. Unlike most races, Paladians didn't believe in anything except the human spirit. Yet, the one grave there was adorned with flowers from all over the world, likewise with letters or candles.
Morians prayed if they ever appeared there. Erans gathered a few silent words and looked to the skies. Harans laid packages of food wrapped in big alana leaves and even the few Mirillians strolling through decided to leave precious minerals, spelling out his name or deeds in a few cases.
All for nought, though.
Still, no one was present in town except for one who knew whose body lay below, adorned with dirt and all the gospels this world could house.
Back then, Gorro changed to Dear, and leaves swept off the trees, soon turning to snow. Then, when things came and went, Herbes brought both hope and despair, and the cycle repeated.
It has been a year since Elton's burial. Ranpa still visited the grave from time to time to see if anything had changed, but the answer remained.
There was that shift, though, as a few Paladians whispered around the district. Even though the world kept spinning, there was no more of a force to truly rely on.
In the face of adversity, the only thing that would put a smile on the face of the townspeople would be news of some greater change approaching.
"Did you read the Portian today?" one woman whispered to another, standing only a few graves from where Bancho supposedly resided.
Ranpa looked down at the plaque, before lightly clenching his fist and breathing out, brushing sweat off his face.
"What'd it say?" the other quickly asked, as Ranpa turned at the words. "Some big news?"
Then, one gaze met his, as the Paladian blinked a few times, rather awkwardly.
He shuffled the crook in his right hand, with the other one landing in his pocket, scouring to get a few palams (hardened tree sap wrapped in edible flowers) out into his palm.
With another turn, he quickly trod off, munching on a few.
***
"One Portian for you, sir!" a guard added, handing over a thick helping of newspaper to Linno Palski, who only raised his brow.
"Lots to read today," he muttered, nodding. "I thought I was well-informed on the whereabouts of all districts."
"Sir, the news here concerns something outside of our premises!" the guard nodded, raising a hand. "Our beloved newsman and editor, Matthew Gather, poured his entire heart into this one! It wouldn't have been if not for the help of the townspeople as well, since a few sparrows-"
Linno hurried a cough, after clearing his throat. "I know which Royal to thank in desperate times."
"Alright! Of course! Sir!" the armoured man twitched three times, before raising his helmet to shine a small smile. Soon, though, the door was closed, and the mayor of Prope Portam was left to ponder over the fine details, taking a wooden seat next to his new glass table, with a few wicker baskets of those blueberry pies, half-eaten, waiting for him to pick another.
...and so he did, scanning through the pages rather timidly, with crumbs landing between. His eyes first landed on the date.
3rd of Gorro, 479 A.F.W.
It was similar circumstances, if he could recall, although instead of reading, he was scribbling it all down, to make the first moves towards banning all Demonear activities in the Mainland.
Since then, though, his stance has changed, although not too drastically. The pages spoke of the same thing, as a few minor demon attacks occurred the past season, with the new wave of Demonears deterring them from even considering an entry in the first place.
A test was held near Magna once more, and then another somewhere in the highlands of Malikan, with whispers of a new one in Harabara. More Demonears sprawled out of these, without many significant names, but a few already stood guard here instead of training in the Kabun Clan.
Linno couldn't exactly have been the opposite there.
They were a great help, that was for sure, although it was anyone's idea that instilled a certain fear of the demons resting inside your weapon. A few rumours appeared about someone's weapon bearing a curse, which only proved his point.
Alas, though, he couldn't do anything except raise a brow.
However, after more of the same, such as talk of the Morians in Wendigo hosting an event similar to the Paladian Dearfest, something else captured most of his attention.
In the very middle, and where most people would flip, according to the trusty Matthew, rested a thick letter, with golden embroidering and blood-red waxing sealing it shut.
He flipped it around, seeing his name written down in quick cursive. He put one of the pies to the side, as fruit stained the napkin. He shook off any excess crumbs and carefully opened the envelope, with his fingers soon meeting a rather silken material, of all things.
"We would like to formally invite you..." Linno read aloud, before focusing and clearing his throat. "...with the big news of... we'll need to discuss it."
He gulped before looking down at the newspaper once more. Putting the envelope to the side, the main article shone brightly, with one face and big, bold words announcing a reason.
***
"Did you see? Did you see?!"
Voices all around Saphrith sounded. It was quite obvious at this point, as questions were answered the same way the news spread around town.
Paladians gathered in inns at a much earlier hour to celebrate. Lady Mama had her hands as busy as on any other day, but such wasn't more reason to complain, but rather to share another smile with someone else and sneak a little drink under the counter.
Those of the farther districts ran out of their treehouses or even Prope-esque tents, sprinting down the mountains to catch the few papers with those crows flying about.
One flip through and the main article of interest was seen.
"Can you believe it?" one Paladian asked another. "It's finally going to happen!"
The Tributals of Mokota shared a few beams, standing atop their towers. Then, their attention shifted to the streets, as now it was someone else besides those birds handing out the big news.
A few ran around, willingly, with massive grins, throwing the papers back and forth, as only more caught up, now riding on those new things a few people from Talin invented, formally called bikes.
Soon enough, every street in the key parts of town was filled.
A few armoured raised their hands in disagreement, and a few older people shook their heads, before the sheets landed in their hands, shifting that frown.
Paladians closed their windows, Paladians opened their windows. Animals barked in the streets, catching a few with their teeth, while some Erans even climbed the vines in groups, to get a hand on the prints stuck between the leaves.
Then, those few sitting near the river in Munau Shore watched as the papers soared off the edge of the Oldenklow gates, slowly heading in their direction.
"It's just like Dearfest, isn't it?" A guy asked, spreading his hands out on the blanket.
"Quite a romantic sight too." A girl replied. "Though, what's going on?"
"You didn't see it for yourself already?" he added, turning around. "There's a good reason for what they're doing."
The girl put her hands on her hips. "If you're not gonna tell me, then-" she quickly stood up, catching one with her hand and almost tumbling into the river by accident.
The guy caught her hand, however, the only thing she focused on was the wind which shuffled the pages and sent a few more flying towards the forests.
Her eyes widened, as so did the ones of the nurse, who once tended to Kania in the Ostoshire hospital. Royals and guards took a moment to read through, standing guard around the gates of Oldenklow, with the celebrating almost pushing through.
Inside, much of the same was spoken. The corridors were almost as empty as usual, if not for the few sharing a quick smile.
"I always knew it was going to happen!"
The atmosphere atop seemed much different, though.
Patrick stared at the paper, nearing the window where all the commotion outside occurred. As one more paper managed to sneak its way up, he shut the blinds with a twist of the handle.
Bartholomew rested on the couch, spreading his legs near the unlit campfire and taking a long, big yawn. He lit up a small pipe, with some herbs at the end, before picking the paper up.
"Ah." he smiled. "So they did it."
Patrick ground his teeth, before quickly shuffling through, only to find something scribbled down at the end and bottom of the conversation.
He raised the newspaper into both hands, forcing more pressure into his grip at the sides, before turning over to Bart.
"Same thing." Patrick quickly uttered. "They don't care, do they?"
"I already told you a thousand times, Patrick." Bart turned, puffing some smoke out. "You got what you wanted."
"Sebastian won't look me in the eyes." Patrick continued, stepping over to the couch. "...and no one's doing anything to find Kania."
"Best bet is he finally found something to do, like Florian or Magda." he took a longer huff. "You said it yourself. Kania lives through everything."
"Not for staining my pride." he shook his head.
"Or is it more than that?"
Patrick rolled his eyes. "It's you who's smoking his pipe, and not me."
"Finders keepers," Bart uttered, turning around, and slamming the paper against the cushions. "Relax, Patrick. We'll probably see him in the palace, soon enough."
Patrick slowly breathed out.
***
As one last soared through the streets in Mokota, the bikes moved forward, and the people followed the celebrations outside of the district, past the bridge.
A hand, however, found itself outside the window, catching the print.
A Tributal curiously scanned the front page with an open mouth and rather glassy eyes to follow. A few seconds later, Rowan extended his arm, smiling a little.
"Ambrosia," they muttered, as the Tributal looked forward, before turning around, tilting their head slightly.
Rowan didn't add another word. A simple nod of an open palm was good enough reason for the Tributal to drop the news on the ground, before taking a careful step, and then laying on the bed again.
Rowan brushed sweat off their forehead, as they stepped over, crouched, trying to snatch the paper from the ground.
However, someone else had another plan in mind. The baby's hand landed on the thin folds, as a clench of the fist slightly creased the edges. Rowan glanced over.
"Klaus," they muttered. "If you will-"
Klaus looked at Rowan with curiosity written over his face. The Tributal closed their eyes, as the smile only extended and spread over to him, concluding in some laughter.
Klaus raised his hands, before quickly crawling away towards Ambrosia, while Rowan assumed an uptight position and quickly unearthed the pages after fixing their glasses.
***
"So another wave of replacement heading our way?" A Haran asked, tipping his hat and stretching around. A few other hunters passed by, either leaving the premises of the brownstone building or reaching their hands out for the same thing.
Of course, it wasn't Haran tradition to celebrate the small things as explosively, even though the news wasn't necessarily something to skip over.
"Why are you reading it that way, Kyle?" another guy asked, taking a seat with a cup of tea mixed with some other seeds.
He rolled his eyes, stretching his legs on the table and leaning back. "Same old, Uidon."
"It's always been the same thing with you., Uidon uttered, taking a sip. "Why are you still clinging on to those ideas of last Gorro? We need hunters elsewhere, not here and complaining."
"Since that day, I threw away the main purpose of this job. I don't even know how to hunt animals."
"Shh, shh!" Uidon quickly raised himself, shushing Kyle, as a few people glanced over. "What if the superior hears?"
"What if?" Kyle asked, sharing a quick, ironic smile. "Figures. Might take only two weeks for me to resign if they're going to take care of this world's problems instead. I'm still with that guy, Uiddy."
"Hakate?" Uidon raised a brow. "You've got to be kidding me."
"I'm just saying. Our people had more purpose than standing guard around that gambling hall in case someone was to make a fuss. Those people there wouldn't care about the world. Money's got their everything turned."
"At least they get paid for it, and so do I."
"If money's all that you consider, then go ahead and be my guest. If something goes wrong with that bunch, we won't be the ones to take care of their demonic problems."
***
"What's the fuss all about?" an elderly woman asked, stepping through the greens that coated the grasses surrounding the few hamlets rising out of the ground near a well.
The older folk talked it all out. There was only one newspaper, now in the hands of a man, who began showing the others those big news.
"You've asked the right person, Maia," Victoria uttered. "The woman handling all the things arriving at our little town."
"You read it before them, haven't you?"
"It's quite stupid." she scratched her head.
"The news?"
"The Paladian way of handling things. If you want the main meat, you gotta put it on the front. I remember Gloria's rant about that one, and boy oh boy, did Morio and Jyuzou disagree about that one. Quarrels for the next two weeks." she shook her head. "Mentioning them-" she turned to Maia. "Take a guess."
"Oh, dear, Vicky." Maia shook her head. "You know my old mind is not good with your tricks."
"Heh." she grinned. "There's a reason for me to be proud."
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