The cabin was in poor shape. A strong wind appeared to have torn half the roof off the small, square structure. Boards covered the windows. Dark stains, reminiscent of dried blood, streaked across the wooden planks that blocked the cabin’s interior from the encroaching chaos, dirt, and dust.
A man of low spirit limped out of the cabin, his eyes appeared vacant of agency. He was pale and gaunt. As he passed, Hunter heard a subtle wheezing rasp to his breath. Hunter sympathized with the man. Despite his short time at camp, Hunter sensed the man’s imminent demise.
There was a gorge nearby. He’d heard tales of courageous explorers finding many rotting corpses littered along the gorge’s floor. Peacekeepers found no reason to visit it. Only desperate scavengers dare to tread there. For those who knew that their last weeks or months would grow more gruelling without hope of ever finding relief, the gorge might seem like the only option. Hunter couldn’t help but feel appalled by the thought.
Their weakness disgusted him. And he found it wasn’t a personal disgust, or a conscious choice to be disgusted.
It wasn’t a disgust for the men and women who were so dispirited. Instead, it was for those who would reduce these men and women to such a state. He glanced back again as the man got lost in the encampment’s chaos.
There was nothing he could do to help him. Not yet.
The man’s resemblance to his former self unsettled him. Although he’d never been so downtrodden, maybe he’d been close. The major difference was that Hunter had options back then.
No Oberons were present for that man’s appeal. But for the Peacekeepers, there was no one around to lift him up and shower him with all he needed for his dreams to come true, and to return life to his dying spirit.
Hunter pushed open the door to the cabin. A bell hanging above the door jingled, announcing his arrival.
The doc’s voice, aged and rasping, answered from the next room, “I’ll join you momentarily.” Hunter sat and waited next to another hunched-over form. This one was more lively, but she grasped at her gut and whimpered. She seemed to be in great pain.
The woman’s whimpering and groans became repetitive. The same each time. Hunter revised his assessment. The woman only appeared to be in great pain.
Hunter scoffed. In return, he got a cheeky grin. Then she raised a finger to her lips. Hunter had no reason to call her out. He thought he understood.
These people’s tenure exceeded his. In the face of unending heat, ceaseless toil, and the gradual demise of their spirit, individuals might go to great lengths to discover a hint of joy if they thought there were no other alternatives. Painkillers, bliss-enhancers, the Doc had a remedy for all ailments. It was likely that the woman had many minor injuries stacked up from her time here. If she lacked the spirit to fight, then something to dull the pain and get her through her day was something that Hunter felt he had no business interfering with.
And business was the key-word.
The opening of the doctor’s room door interrupted his thoughts. Out stepped a thin-figured being. His skin had a green tone, his face looked gaunt, with very sharp, protruding angles to his cheekbones. From a distance, on an especially dark night, you might think that the man was human.
The first time Hunter had seen him, he’d balked. His mind had trouble processing it.
“First time seeing someone like me?” the Doc had asked him. Hunter had only nodded. The man had chuckled, “you won’t see another. We isolate ourselves.”
Hunter went to ask about his capture. The man—a fitting term for the alien, as the doctor himself confirmed—shook his head and sighed. He said he’d been unlucky. Just plain dumb misfortune. He refused to answer any more of Hunter’s questions that weren’t relevant to his job. He’d given Hunter something to help him rehydrate, and the first of Jaspen’s treatments, which had come at a discount.
But he’d warned Hunter that such discounts would never come again. He’d have to pay his way like anyone else.
So Hunter had worked hard for days, putting in extra hours, keeping his attention on his sixth sense so that he might find something valuable to trade with. Small knick-knacks were abundant around the scavenging grounds, but they weren’t valuable enough for what Hunter needed.
Mining was one of the other alternatives. It proved far more lucrative than scavenging runs. Lucrative enough to give that he might create some opportunities for himself in this forlorn hell-dream, after all.
Jaspen was counting on him to step up for both of them. He’d never stated as much to Hunter, but how could Hunter let him wallow? How could he let himself do less than his absolute best to bring himself, and everyone from Skyhold back home?
Every hope was another buffer against the grinding wheel set against his own spirit. Hunter imagined the wheel would only get more abrasive as the days, months, and years dragged on.
“The small one first,” the Doc said. The actor beside Hunter grunted as she stood. Although she feigned the problem to be around her stomach, she had adopted a limp. She groaned as she walked. The Doc grimaced. He appeared skeptical, but remained silent. He waited for his patient before sighing and shutting the door.
They were only in there for a couple of minutes before the door opened once more. The woman came out with a small sack in her hand. She seemed less insistent on looking pathetic. Hunter spied through the window. As soon as she had left the building, she stood upright and her limp disappeared. Hunter smirked.
“Alright, big guy. You’re up,” came the doctor’s aging voice. Hunter strode into the office, meeting the man’s eyes and giving him a nod as he passed.
“What can I do for you today?” the doctor asked.
Hunter scratched his chin as he considered how to approach his request. Stubble had grown. He’d noticed some clean-shaven faces around the camp. Maybe there were ways to improvise a razor.
Might be useful for more than a shave, too.
“I’m here for a couple reasons today, doc,” Hunter said. He gazed past the man. Behind him on the counter was a series of small vials. One of which held a small, pearlescent sphere. The doc caught his gaze, and he shook his head.
“Can’t part with that one today,” the doctor said, and after catching Hunter’s frown, he shrugged. “I’m afraid I have no choice. That’s the last of my stock for the next couple of days. It’s reserved for top-priority clients.”
Hunter leaned back in his seat with a sigh. Top-priority meant either Peacekeepers, or a lucky loyalist.
“Well, it was worth a shot,” Hunter said. “The other reason I’m here is for some medication. I need some painkillers, some anti-inflammatory meds, and anti-biotics.”
“I’ve got those,” the doctor nodded, eyeing Hunter up and down. “All that for a limp? Or am I to assume they’re not for you?”
“You’re right, they’re for my friend.”
“And where would your friend be?”
“He’s in his tent. If he could move around, I’d have brought him here.”
“‘If he could move around.’ Then what you’re looking for is a treatment plan,” the doctor said.
Hunter slowly nodded as he considered what the doctor was suggesting. He could afford it now, but he feared that he’d have to part with everything he’d earned so far. It would be worth it for Jaspen’s sake, but Hunter was trying to plan for the future.
That being said, the future was uncertain, and all he had so far were the very beginnings of some ideas for how he might accomplish his goals.
“Oh, don’t look so nervous. Tell you what. I can’t make house-calls on the spot, but you can reserve some of my time for a price. It’ll be easier for me to draft up a proper treatment plan if I know exactly what I’m supposed to be treating. Unfortunately, my time is valuable. You could call for a medic, but they’re only good more emergency first aid and you’ll have trouble finding one outside the loyalist camps. I take it that since you’re not wincing, you’re not afraid of the cost of what I’m proposing?”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Although Hunter regretted he wouldn’t be able to grab a cultivation aid for himself, that had only been a secondary goal. It only took him a week to build up his current stockpile. He’d gotten lucky, but that luck came from his sensitivity. He knew it wouldn’t take him too long to build his savings back up again. But doing so would be unpleasant, not that it mattered. There was no escaping unpleasantness on Seedha.
If a higher cost could mean that Jaspen receives better care, then he would pay the price.
“Yeah, I think we can come to an agreement.”
“Then I suggest you pay upfront. I recall you saying that you’re new around here, right?” the doctor asked, and Hunter nodded. “I don’t know you well enough to give you a line of credit. And like I said, you’re low on the priority list.”
That last sentence seemed to hurt the man. As if the words were burning him, he would wince, but only slightly. And after speaking, Hunter spied the man’s jaw clenching. The doctor’s hands fidgeted in his lap.
It appeared to Hunter that the doctor was reluctant to make access to treatment so expensive to his patients. Hunter considered whether he could use the doctor’s reluctance to haggle for a better price, but the notion repulsed him. Yet Jaspen’s life could be at stake. If he could negotiate a lower price for the treatment, perhaps his friend wouldn’t have to wait so long between doses.
Through the closed door of the office, Hunter heard the small bell at the front of the cabin jingle. Then the door to the office opened. Three men entered, much to the doc’s frustration. Two of them were wearing Peacekeeper patches on their shoulders. A black saber with a crimson edge. He recognized the third man, who scowled as he recognized Hunter, as well.
That the man was with two Peackeepers didn’t bode well for their next meeting. The last time they’d met had been the first time. Hunter had gotten away with a bruised rib and a swollen cheek. But this man standing before him had left in a sorrier state, and with a few lost minutes as Hunter had knocked him out cold. He hadn’t bothered learning his opponent’s name. Name’s didn’t matter in the fighting ring. Not unless you were a regular, and you could put on a show.
That had been two days ago. In the intervening time, the man had made a full recovery, which meant he’d had access to some pretty good meds. That, combined with his Peacekeeper escort, implied that he was a loyalist. Hunter resisted the urge to curse.
“Can’t you see I’m with a patient?” the doc said, glaring at the men.
“Can’t you see who you’re talking to?”
“It doesn’t matter, Rin. The Commander and I have an understanding—”
“Fleet Commander ain’t here right now, doc,” Rin said. As he spoke to the doctor, his smile and calm voice suggested a preordained outcome in his favour. “I am.”
Hunter took that information and noted it away. It was his first time hearing of any Fleet Commander, and that this person wasn’t around seemed like a significant piece of information. That this Peackeeper, Rin, seemed willing to challenge the Fleet Commander’s authority might be worth remembering. How many of the other Peacekeepers felt the same way?
“But there are rules,” the doctor sputtered, “I’ve been assured—”
Hunter couldn’t see the fist that connected with the doctor’s gut. The Peacekeeper’s hand had moved too fast for him to track. Auras flared, and Hunter balked at their intensity. Nothing quite like June’s, but still far beyond Hunter’s own, and almost anyone that Hunter had encountered at the camp.
The other Peacekeeper grinned as the doctor doubled over.
It was sheer, dumb reflex that caused Hunter to stand. Maybe it was the fury he’d been suppressing, or it could have been his fight-or-flight instinct activating at an inopportune time.
Three predatory gazes landed on him. He froze.
“That’s the one I fought,” the loyalist said, pointing at Hunter.
“I knew I recognized you,” Rin said.
“Can we deal with him here?” said Hunter’s newest rival.
“What does Rowen see in you?” Rin asked as he considered the loyalist with a sneer. “You want me to tuck you in at night, too? Do you want me to tie your shoes?”
“No, sir,” the loyalist said, seeming quite meek. The Peacekeeper frowned, then brought his attention back to the doctor.
“Well?”
“Just take it,” the doctor said, handing holding the vial with the pearlescent pill out.
“Pleasure doing business with you, doctor,” said Rin. The loyalist stepped out of the way as the two Peacekeepers left, glaring at Hunter until it was time to follow his master out of the cabin. The doctor closed the door behind them.
“Are you alright?” Hunter asked.
The doctor had straightened up. His breathing was even. Any sign that he’d just suffered a blow to the gut was gone. Hunter took a second to measure the man’s aura.
It wasn’t as strong as Rin’s. In fact, Hunter would wager that it wasn’t much stronger than his own. The doctor was in the later phases of the Foundation stage, by Hunter’s estimation. He seemed to have a constant stream of etherium flowing through him. Hunter remembered that he ought to be practicing the same thing.
Although he hadn’t been able to create a constant flow of energy through his channels, he was getting closer every day. He could keep it going for hours at a stretch, sometimes. But the flow was like a trickle, compared to the stream which seamed to be flowing through the doctor.
That pill might have been just what he’d needed to break through. He took a small breath and, with a slight effort of will, etherium cycled through his channels. It would require his attention every few minutes, but for only the split second.
“Not my first time dealing with them,” the doctor said, as if it had all been a minor nuisance. He looked at Hunter with a bored gaze, as if what had just happened was business as usual. “So, we were about to negotiate a price.”
They discussed Jaspen’s injuries, his time bedridden, and a price. A few minutes later, Hunter left the cabin feeling relieved but also tense. Hunter felt relief because Jaspen would receive personalized treatment for his injuries, and tension because the cultivation aid would give his opponent an advantage. The man had been strong, but he wasn’t much of a fighter.
If the man took the cultivation aid now, he’d still be feeling the influx of ether when it was time to fight. He would be like a charged battery, ready to unleash all that stored-up energy against Hunter. From what he’d seen, those cultivation aids were like industrial-grade etheric stimulants.
On the flip side, he was sure that having all that excess etherium without using it to cultivate and train the channels would be a waste of a pill. The only other use for the pill that Hunter could think of would be to take it before a fight for some extra etheric potency. He’d have quite a bit more endurance than their last fight.
It wouldn’t be the worst disadvantage that Hunter had dealt with. And it wasn’t like he had no way to cultivate without a pill himself. In fact, Hunter was sure that even without the pill, his cultivation speed would be among the fastest in the camp. Once again, he considered the ring, hidden under the strap on his arm.
Speed was the advantage of having a drawstone. Besides, the doc wasn’t the only avenue for acquiring cultivation aids. In fact, just before he’d left the cabin, the doctor had given him a name.
“Os. He’ll have what you need. It’ll be expensive, though. Tell him I sent you. Maybe he’ll give you a discount.”
Os.
A strange name. Maybe it was a nickname? Hunter frowned as he considered how he might find the man. He had a few hours before the doctor would visit Jaspen, and Hunter’s presence would be necessary in order to administer the first dose of Jaspen’s treatment. Fortunately, Os was a simple man to find. It turns out he was pretty well known. Hunter overheard the man’s name mentioned as he drifted around the camp. Hunter had taken a moment to eavesdrop, taking off his shoe and shaking it out as if a pebble had gotten stuck in it.
They mentioned Os in the same breath as the market. Apparently, one of them was already on their way there. Hunter had heard of the market before, but had yet to find the time to explore it.
Following the stranger to the market while doing his best to seem inconspicuous was a challenge. The closer he got to the market, the more often he saw patrols. But they seemed more subdued around this part of the camp. The slaves all seemed just as meek and afraid, but the Peacekeepers, as haughty as ever, seemed reluctant to cause as much trouble here as they would elsewhere in the camp.
Interesting, Hunter thought.
Another note to store away for later.
The market was almost exactly what he’d imagined when he’d first heard about it. A gaggle of merchants with their goods set up on planks of wood or blankets. Some even had tents to sell out of. Some of these tents even seemed to have guards.
Hunter stopped by someone browsing some artifacts at one such tent.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for a man named Os.”
“Piss off.”
Hunter shrugged off the attitude and went to find someone else. There was a smaller man nearby who didn’t seem preoccupied with any business.
“Excuse me, do you know of anyone named Os?” Hunter asked.
The man cowered away from him. Hunter sighed. His size was both a blessing and a curse in this place.
He explored for a bit, looking at the various goods on display.
Then came the unmistakable aroma of cooked meat. His stomach growled.
It was an intoxicating scent. He followed his nose to a tent that had a makeshift grill set up over a fire pit. There was a large crowd arrayed before the grill, and a few Peacekeepers keeping the crowd at bay. A lone cook stood over the fire, using his bare hand to stab the meet through with a thin stick, like a kebab.
There were more people than there was meat to eat, from what Hunter could see. Everyone who approached the cook exchanged a kebab for a sheet of paper. Some sort of currency? A credit system?
A credit system would imply a bank of some sort. It seemed far too organized for a forced labour camp. Another question, for another time. He would need to take some time to write this all down later. Granted that he could find a pen and paper, or something similar.
Feeling disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to get some good food, he turned to leave. But then he spied a commotion. Another man, whose height rivaled Hunter’s own, had just thrown a man out of a tent. The tall man spit at the man he’d just thrown, who was still on the ground, sticking both of his arms up in surrender.
“Come on, Os,” the smaller man yelled towards the tent, “I’m good for it! I’ll pay you back, I promise!”
Hunter was too far from the tent to parse the words that emerged from it, but the big man wasn’t Os. Whatever the big man heard caused him to smile. He took one step towards the man on the ground, who seemed to take that as a sign that it was time to go. Hunter felt etherium flare, and the small man was up and gone within a second, moving with unnatural speed. Was it a strange, etheric movement technique? June had done something similar, if his memory was correct. Although June’s technique seemed to require the use of his blade. Did that imply that the small man’s technique was better than Junes? Or did June focus more power through his technique with the help of the sword, almost like a mage’s focus?
Hunter had to wrench his attention away from his thoughts. Now wasn’t the time for daydreaming and hypothesizing.
The big man smirked, and walked back towards the tent, and then watched the passers-by with his arms crossed.
If Os could afford such a big guard, and the Peacekeepers seemed willing to let him go about his business without interference, then maybe he was worth getting to know. Either that, or he and the Peacekeepers were in bed together.
The war within him waged between relief and tension had yet to find a resolution.
On one hand, he’d found the man. But he wasn’t yet sure if that was a good thing. He figured that since he didn’t have time to wait around and investigate the man, there was only one option available to him: to find out for himself.
