Chapter 9: A Priest Who Hates Bears

  A partnership with the duchess had perks, that much was clear. Beyond the payment and the lack of perverts named Gallo, Beetle quickly found that she was allowed to use Maelys’ estate as she saw fit and in particular was advised to visit the ward where Maelys’ personal doctor practiced in order to sort out the wound in her leg. Before arriving, Beetle was told two things: first that Pierre was an ex-priest of the Serene Church of the mainland who used magic to heal, and that second, Pierre didn’t have any haramush for Beetle to worry about.

  That said, Beetle didn’t quite believe the duchess but the hole in her leg wasn’t getting any smaller. The warrior stood outside of the heavy doors of Pierre’s ward, dressed decently for once. Her outfit was simple but it was stitched well, cotton and dyed green. The shirt was a little long, and the pants had to be rolled up to her knees to prevent her leg wound from oozing onto the fabric. Each clumsy step felt like Beetle was being stabbed all over again.

  “Couldn’t afford a crutch?” Beetle mumbled to herself before pushing the door wide open. Immediately the scent of perfumes sterilized the air and forced a dry cough from Beetle. While the hallway was open to the natural light of the estate’s gardens through wide windows, the ward was dim and lit only by orange candles and struggling light that filtered through colored glass.

  “Hello?” Beetle took her first step into the ward.

  “Hello,” A voice shot up from her leg.

  “What the!?” Beetle nearly jumped back in surprise but before she could, a firm hand kept her still. The sober face of a nun looked up from next to Beetle’s wound. The woman was clothed in simple brown robes and had her silvering hair tied back in a bun. Her eyes were nearly black and her skin a chalky white.

  “Don’t move so suddenly,” the nun chastised before standing up. “You’ll bleed all over the place.” Her hands stiffly guided Beetle by the shoulder, urging her forward.

  “I’m looking for Pierre,” Beetle stammered, still shocked by the sudden appearance.

  “I’m Pierre,” the nun said simply. The two stopped by a simple cot that was propped near a wooden wall of fanciful grotesques.

  “But isn’t Pierre usually a-”

  “Yup!” Pierre shut Beetle up quickly. “Lay down please, I’d like to close your wound up before you get much paler.”

  Beetle complied, easing herself onto the cot. It was scratchy and the strange carvings of animals on the walls made the whole experience even more surreal than it already was. Cold air rushed over her wound as Pierre peeled back the bandages. A scowl found the nun’s face. “Iac in the Valley,” she swore, “you’d think the medics over at that arena were butchers.”

  “Hah!?” Beetle went to sit up to look, but Pierre pressed her back down.

  “Sutures are all wrong, you’re still leaking, I’m going to take them all out before closing you up with mist-talking.”

  “Oh yeah?” Beetle relaxed on the cot, staring at the wooden birds and beasts. “I never saw mist-talking in action, at least, not that I can remember.”

  “It could be that you just don’t remember,” Pierre plucked at the sutures with a metal instrument. “Farroux is Serenist just like Lynnfaire. Every Deacon and Nun knows a little mist-talking.” Pierre hummed and pressed a cold cloth to Beetle’s wound as she continued down the way. “Probably the only good thing the Serene Church ever shat out.”

  “Jaded?” Beetle cocked a grin.

  Pierre looked up at her patient and chuckled grimly. “So very much. I’m an Iacist nowadays, I run a group over in town, there’s not many of us on Perdi, though.”

  “Do you know a Brenna?” Beetle found herself asking.

  The metal instrument clinked against a bowl and Pierre pushed the cold cloth hard against Beetle’s wound, stemming the bleeding. “Yup, Lynnfairish like me. Left the country to practice safely, like me. I also know your pal Lovoash.”

  “Lovoash?”

  “Uh, Crocodile.”

  Beetle tilted her head to get a better look at the nun. “Really?”

  “We got each other to Perdi, believe it or not,” Pierre answered. The nun looked down at the wound and started to move her lifts in a soft chant. It was quiet at first, but soon a hissing sound came and a dense blue mist pooled in the nun’s mouth. Beetle watched in silence as it spilled out in a small waterfall, bathing over her wound. As the mist enveloped her bloody, misshapen gash, the heat of the wound turned numb and her muscle and skin started to rejoin. A minute later and all that was left was a barely visible scar.

  Pierre slapped the scar, making Beetle flinch, but there wasn’t any pain, just the feeling of complete exhaustion. The nun smirked. “Stay off it as best you can, just to let the body rest.”

  Beetle sat up. “Thanks.” Curiosity brimmed in her head and she continued. “Tell me about Crocodile.”

  Pierre stood up and crossed her arms. “Well, I’m not one for telling stories, but he is an alright fella. Tough, can handle himself in a fight, but you know all this.”

  “Then tell me something I don’t know,” Beetle insisted.

  Pierre shook her head. “I don’t gossip, besides, I don’t think it would be right to spill his secrets.”

  “I bet he’d spill one of yours,” Beetle gave a snake’s grin. “Go on, tell me something he’d say about you and then something you’d say about him in return.”

  Pierre cocked a brow. “He’d say I absolutely hate bears, and I’d say go ask him yourself!”

  Beetle waved a hand. “Fine, fine, you’re right- wait why do you hate bears?”

  Just as Pierre was about to answer, a soft knock sounded on the open door and both women turned to face the man at the entrance. Recognition flooded Beetle’s features. “Phin!”

  “At long last.” Phin tipped his head. He looked the same as always, with the recent battle having done little to make him look any worse or better. The man stood in the beige capris and shirt of the arena and the only scars he wore were the ones he had always worn. “I was hoping we could finally have our conversation.”

  Beetle nodded and looked at Pierre. “Thanks again, for your help.”

  ***

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  If the manor of the duchess wasn’t ostentatious on its own, her vast gardens that expanded from the rear were nothing short of imperial or queenly. Trees and flowers and shrubs both native to the island and brought from far away places created a manicured grove, pathed with polished stones for walking and a myriad of fanciful benches for sitting. No matter how or where you stood, the sound and slight glitter of trickling water was ever present, betraying the exquisite piping system that kept the artificial streams and miniature waterfalls moving. The water served as a nice sound during breaks in conversation, as well as a mental break from the sweltering midday heat of Perdi.

  “So you already learned about the haramush toxin,” Phin said. He walked beside Beetle, the two of them hiding from the heat under the endless canopy of the garden. “Seems I was a little late.”

  “In your defense, everything moved rather quickly,” Beetle replied.

  “And yet your memory is still… missing?” Phin’s pale eyes scanned Beetle’s face. At this point, Beetle couldn’t tell who was more scarred, the split lipped man in front of her or herself.

  “Yeah,” Beetle looked away. “Still gone. Sometimes at night I feel bits and pieces of Rewe, but nothing concrete.”

  “How does Rewe feel?”

  Beetle scrunched her face at that. “Angry, mostly, unpleasant. From what I hear, I’m not so sure I want to remember.”

  Phin shrugged. “Well, I guess no one can blame you. In a way, you lucked out. You got all of Rewe’s ability and none of her pain.”

  A sarcastic snort came from Beetle at that. “Yeah right, I lost that fight against Diamond. I have all of Rewe’s enemies and none of her skills.” Beetle gritted her teeth. “I don’t even know what to expect. I don’t know who Rewe pissed off, I only seem to find out when the blades are already drawn.”

  “Maybe you should train,” Phin stopped walking. The two faced each other as Phin continued. “Could be that relearning how to fight like Rewe can reawaken your old skills, and who knows, maybe it’ll bring your memory back with it, so at least then you know who to look out for.”

  Beetle gave a small nod. “Not a bad idea, though I’m not sure I want to remember.”

  Phin shrugged. “It’s up to you, but you said it yourself, you need the skills.”

  “Who would I even train with, you?” Beetle scoffed.

  Phin rolled his eyes. “I was thinking perhaps you should learn from who beat you.”

  “Diamond!?” Beetle shouted.

  With a hand, Phin hushed. “Just try it. If you can learn from who defeated you, I have a feeling it will awaken some of your old skills.”

  Beetle looked up to the swishing trees and puffed a breath. Turning from each other, the two restarted their walk. “You’re probably right,” Beetle said as they walked. A pause. “Though I wonder.”

  “Hm?” Phin hummed.

  “Why are you helping me?”

  Phin furrowed his brow and kept his eyes forward. “In a way, you remind me a lot of my own kid.”

  “You’re not just saying that because the moron announcer called you my dad for audience appeal, right?” Beetle cracked a grin.

  “Stars, no,” Phin returned the gesture. “The thought entered my mind when I first saw you in the arena, far before that moment.”

  “And that feeling didn’t change when you found out I was Rewe de la Hache?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I guess not, no.”

  “Some kid,” Beetle looked at the man. “I’ll go seek out Diamond, and you?”

  “I’ll be around,” Phin said, “Crocodile invited me over to his estate before he left. I figured I might as well go see my scaly co-hostage.”

  A raw chuckle slipped from Beetle. “Give him my best.”

  “With all due respect, I think you already gave his shoulder your best,” Phin answered morbidly.

  Another chuckle. “He lived.”

  ***

  Diamond gripped Beetle by the collar and slammed her into the wall. The gladiator was wearing fine silk and without her face paint, her pallid complexion (nearly the same shade as her hair) amplified the red of the cloth. Her hair was as wiry as ever and her face furious. The two fighters were on the second floor of the manor in the hallway by a large bow window that overlooked the port village below. The gladiator spat at Beetle.

  “Why the fuck are you here, worm!?”

  Beetle held up her palms in surrender. “Maelys took me in as a partner.”

  “Partner!?” Diamond shrieked. “You!?” She slammed Beetle into the wall again, shaking her by the shoulders. “But I’ve worked for her for years, doing—” Her eyes narrowed and Beetle could see the rage past her dark eyes. “I’m going to kill you.”

  “You were going to kill me before!” Beetle narrowed her own eyes.

  Diamond gritted her filed teeth. “Why did you come to see me?”

  “I, uh,” Beetle could tell that Diamond wasn’t about to do her any favors, let alone train her. Knocking an idea back and forth in her head, Beetle caught Diamond’s stare. “I wanted to apologize.”

  “What?”

  “For what I did, in the past I mean,” Beetle quickly explained. “As Rewe.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Diamond’s grip slackened.

  “Well I must have done something to make you hate me so much, right?” Beetle offered a weak smile.

  Diamond let go completely now, face down and in deep thought. She snarled. “Are you trying to tell me, you have no idea what you’ve done?”

  Beetle flinched, unsure if she should continue. “That’s… right?”

  Diamond just stared.

  Waving her hands, Beetle tried her best to defuse. “But I’m different now! I’m Beetle, no longer Rewe. I’m sure I can fix whatever Rewe did.”

  Before Diamond could open her mouth, an orange glint reflected from her eye and her attention was snagged to the window. Beetle followed her sights. There, through the window and far into the port town below, a black smoke was rising from the docks, with an orange flame licking the roofs.

  “What the…” Diamond muttered, but Beetle stared with horror widened eyes.

  “Gareg!” Beetle shouted before pushing past her rival, breaking into a sprint.

  “Wait!” Diamond shouted after her.