FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

=====[Chapter 7 Ver 1 - My Sins]=====

“Can you read this?”

Seth could a new voice enter the holding cells, an older man from the sound of it; though he didn’t care, he was too numb; why was he here?.

“No sir, I can read Jursen though”

“How about you?”

“I... no, sir”

It wouldn’t be long until the newcomer came to his cell; hopefully he wouldn’t stay long.

“*Sigh* ...Can you read either of these?”

Silence.

“That one can’t speak, can barely stand, not even sure she can hear us” came the voice of the overseer “I’ll save you some time; ignore her and the rest in her cell, they’re all illiterate”

“Can any of you read this language?” asked the old man.

Seth could hear a faint handful of ‘No’s from the cell nearest to him.

“How about... why are they by themselves?”

“The speck-faced ones don’t get along well with the rest” answered the overseer “A couple beat the shit out of ‘em about a week ago, and they just sat there and took it; moved ‘em here to make sure they don’t kill each other”

“Interesting... can you read this?” asked the old man from outside his cell, Seth couldn’t find a reason to respond though; and said nothing “...Hello?”

“HEY!” shouted the overseer loud enough to make them both flinch “Here, now; or I’ll stick you back with the others”

Seth said nothing, freezing for a moment before reluctantly standing and approaching the bars; eyes downcast.

“Now... can you read this?” asked the old man a second time, handing him a note through the bars.

At first Seth just stared at it; a wave of dark nostalgia running through him, feeling his mind grow fuzzy all of a sudden “...This is Jaggan’s Sign” he said quietly, pointing at the large symbol at the center of the page “The text beneath it says ‘Morlland will die’ in Minth”

“Good, good” said the old man- an oddly familiar looking Seelie “How about this?”

Seth cocked his head slightly as the man produced a corroded metal plate and offered it to him “My Kartish isn’t very good but... I believe it reads: ‘Krotilla Foundries Type:012 drill No.114’” why was he here again?.

“Very impressive Seth” said the old man kindly, Seth felt nice... when was the last time Toren complimented him?; it didn’t matter right now.

This time Toren revealed an old looking medicine bottle filled with fluid “It’s laudanum, written in Morllish” he said before the old man could ask the question.

“You always were the proactive one, weren’t you?” asked Toren, reaching through the bars to ruffle his hair almost affectionately... Seth wanted more, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that he hated it worse than the numbness...

“Please stop” Seth mumbled before waking up.

...

There was work to be done.

Seth wanted to fall back asleep, his body aching after everything that had happened as he lay curled up in bed. He insisted to Rowan that he’d be more comfortable sleeping in his ‘room’ than in Toren’s old bed.

That wasn’t a complete lie; as despite the cold stone and dried blood from where Michael had beaten him it was still home. A dreary, lonely home steeped in suffering; but home nonetheless.

“Rowan should be asleep by now...” thought Seth, shivering as he reluctantly clambered out of bed “If he’s really been awake since we first met I should have enough time...”

Seth lit an oil lamp before quietly creeping back upstairs to the lounge, listening for any signs that Rowan may still be awake as he searched for a good bludgeon; settling on a shovel. “Loud... but he shouldn’t be able to hear it from Toren’s room” he thought, quickly heading towards the entrance to the lab “I’ll quit before sunrise just in case he’s an early-bird, and take care of anything left the day after”

After a brief moment fiddling the mechanisms Seth silently descended into the subterranean passage, nose scrunching from the smell of spilled chemicals before he even entered the laboratory “I forgot about that” he muttered, thinking back to how he threw several of Toren’s specimen jars and tinctures against the wall out of spite the night he fled; unable to suppress a smirk as he imagined the old bastard turning in his grave.

It wasn’t long before he came across the familiar sight of old, corroded mining equipment; pneumatic tubes, drills, and several metallic cylinders that once held unrefined oil and bitumen. Such antiques were rare outside of this sealed off tunnel system, as the Liskian colonists had long since discarded or recycled everything of value.

Continuing past said relics was the laboratory proper; which aside from the mess of broken glass Seth had created appeared rather normal- at a glance at least, anyone with experience in the fields of Thaumaturgy and medicine would tell you that the various apparatuses on display were whimsical at best, with most being so outlandishly dangerous in concept that it was hard to believe how well built they were.

In addition to Toren’s own creations were more mundane objects: books, scales, surgical implements, a powerful spyglass his master had referred to as a ‘microscope’... and more flasks.

“Why did I tell him what they were made of?” thought Seth regretfully, cringing as he remembered how their last conversation had ended on an awkward note; he worried that his forced laugh could have impacted how Rowan viewed him... Shaking his head Seth reminded himself of the task at hand, he couldn’t obsess over that now.

With a deep breath Seth approached the centerpiece he’d been subconsciously avoiding: a large, dark metal half-cylinder behind a row of what appeared to be six glass sarcophagi connected via several tubes, with metal coils lining the interiors- the final sarcophagus being an exception.

Seth paused to light a few more lamps before taking up his shovel, the extra light providing him some comfort despite also illuminating the collection of Acturan skulls lining the shelf beside the machine.

...

Rowan slept late that morning, reasonable considering how he’d been awake for two days straight.

“Seth should be awake by now...” thought Rowan, shivering as he reluctantly clambered out of bed “He never said what he wanted to do first... Too busy catching up I guess”

Rowan yawned as he opened Toren’s wardrobe, pleased to find that he wore more or less the same sized clothes. “Best to stick with something subtle if I head out, though probably safer to stay inside” he said to himself, slipping into a plain gray shirt and loose pants before moving to the door “...Safer still to leave this place entirely” he added, wondering how far Kunzes would pursue the both of them on foot; and whether or not the threat of Enclaver forces made taking a ship a worse option.

As he began to head down the hall and into the main room he noticed the smell of food having been made, and out of curiosity (coupled with hunger) he turned to the dining area to investigate; finding Seth tiredly leaning against the wall, seemingly lost in thought before he noticed Rowan’s approach; flinching, and for a moment briefly staring at the elf like his fight-or-flight response had been triggered.

“...Is something wrong?” asked Rowan, confused by Seth’s expression “You look tired... did you have trouble sleeping?”

“I- no... it’s nothing; the color just threw me off...” replied Seth with a sigh, forcing a smile as he gestured towards the table and more specifically a plate of food and some smaller dishes set next to it “I made you breakfast... do you like baked eggs?, Toren enjoyed my cooking, so it can’t be that bad!”

“Oh.. he did?” asked Rowan, thinking back to what he’d read before quickly adding “It smells quite nice... what is it?”

“Roast squab with vegetables alongside a few baked eggs and bread” answered Seth, tapping his fingers against the wall nervously “Sorry if it isn’t as good as you’re used to; Toren was a picky eater, and I have to make due with limited imports. I made tea as well, but I can get something else if you’d prefer”

“No no, tea’s fine; you really didn’t need to do any of this- but thank you” said Rowan, eyeing the roast bird; he liked pigeon well enough but was put off by the mushrooms beside it, reminding him of the sketches he’d seen in Seth’s journal the day before; and what he’d read “...Seth?”

“Is.. something wrong sir?”

Rowan frowned at that last word; figuring Seth must have added it out of habit “...Never mind” he said with a sigh, cutting a piece of squab and tasting it; finding it to be quite tender and surprisingly (though not unpleasantly) sweet “This is really good actually” he added, taking another bite; this time with some of the vegetables as well, savoring the taste of well caramelized onions “Hell, it’s probably the best pigeon I’ve had!”

“Ha.. really?” asked Seth, smiling awkwardly as his tail swished behind him. His erratic tapping having ceased for the time being “I’m glad you enjoy it si- Rowan, is... is there anything else I can do for you?”

“For me?, no, I’m fine” said Rowan, taking a sip of tea “What about you?, we caught up on things yesterday but you never said your plans going forward; is there anything ‘I’ can do for you?”

‘...Yeah, there is” said Seth after a moment, looking away uncertainly “It’s um... I know manual labor isn’t very fitting for a man of your station but...”

“...Is something wrong?, I don’t mind the idea of getting my hands dirty”

“I’d do it myself but...” Seth swallowed uncomfortably, looking over his injured hand “Could you help me dig a grave?”

...

This place was familiar, to one of them at least.

Seth led the way through the old Acturan town, the smooth-cut stone floor and relatively low ceiling combined with the decaying shells of what were clearly homes was strangely calming for him; though for Rowan it made his skin crawl.

The soft clattering coming from the sack he carried didn’t help.

Despite his discomfort Rowan found some joy seeing Seth relax in spite of the dreary task at hand, listening as he occasionally pointed out graffiti written in an Acturan language; telling him what it meant and explaining what didn’t translate well “Do you know what this means?” asked Seth, pointing to some carvings made into an old timber beam.

“Uh... the dimensions of it maybe?”

“Ha ha, no; someone just got bored and tried carving a house” answered Seth with a smirk “Some kid probably got a knife for their birthday and decided to try it out where no one would mind, they even smudged some peat or something into the cuts so it’d stick out more!”

For a while Rowan said nothing as they continued through the underworks; quiet except for the occasional skittering of some unseen creature or the soft squelch of mud and wet debris underfoot; if he listened closely he could hear distant shouting every once in a while, and although Rowan assumed it came from the surface the surrounding geometry made it difficult to be certain. “...Does anyone else come down here?” he asked after some time.

“I’ve met a few Rat-catchers here and there, we usually give each other a wide berth though” answered Seth, glancing over his shoulder at the Seelie “...Don’t worry about the racket upstairs; it’ll be over soon enough anyways”

Before he could ask what Seth meant a series of distant explosions could be heard; immediately followed by a series of crashes and bangs close enough to feel the reverberations “What’s happen-” Rowan started as another set of explosions could be heard, the crashes much closer this time; even causing a few chunks of rotted wood paneling to come loose “What was that?!” he exclaimed, instinctively ducking down “Are we having an earthquake?!”

Seth was quiet as the process repeated itself a third time, and then a fourth, before finally speaking “It’s a bombardment, it’s over now” he said simply, continuing on the path before stopping as he realized Rowan wasn’t following “...Is something wrong?, it was only cannonballs from the sound of it”

“Only cannonballs??” repeated Rowan, in disbelief at how calm Seth was “Aren’t we under attack?, you make it sound normal!”

“...It’s been happening for months now” replied Seth, genuinely confused as to why he was so bewildered “Luthay told you, didn’t he?; it didn’t sound like a chemical bombing this time so we should be fine”

“Chemical bombing?...” Rowan started before letting out an exasperated sigh; he’d learn whatever that meant later, at this point he just wanted out of these catacombs; a part of him wishing he hadn’t volunteered to help with this grisly task.

Wordlessly they continued, and while the shock of the bombardment didn’t take long to wear off Rowan couldn’t help but notice Seth seemed agitated; walking a decent distance ahead of him and seemingly avoiding eye contact whenever he checked to make sure the Seelie was still following him. “Why gray?” he could hear Seth mutter.

It didn’t take long for Rowan to start missing Seth’s previous demeanor; feeling uncomfortable but unsure what to say until they passed by a particularly large and erratically drawn symbol on an old door “...What does this mean?” he asked awkwardly, wishing to resume some kind of conversation “It looks kind of like a tall, rickety swing set”

Seth paused for a moment as he turned to look over the symbol, seeming almost lost in thought “That’s... Jaggan’s Sign” he said wistfully, a weak smile appearing on his face “Do you know where it- no... you wouldn’t know where it’s from; it’s from an old story”

“A story?”

“Yeah... it was never my favorite, but we still heard it a lot growing up” said Seth as he stood in front of it “Would you... like to hear the abridged version?”

“Of course!” said Rowan, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.

“Well... in ancient times, before the western nations or the rise of Morlland; there was a guardian spirit of the Minthan mountains and its people named Jaggan-Thorn” started Seth “For centuries she stood vigil over the region, defending our ancestors from other dark gods and keeping lesser entities in check, accepting gifts but never asking for the same sacrifice and worship other faiths demanded”

“That sounds quiet generous”

“...There was an issue with this however” he continued “In order to maintain her strength and heal her wounds Jaggan was forced to spend decades hibernating, entrusting a council of druids from across the Minthan with the task of awakening her in times of crisis; and guarding her tomb when there was peace”

“Alright...” said Rowan, unsure what a druid was or where these mountains were “So where does this thing come in?”

“Oh, sorry; I’ll get to the point” said Seth apologetically “Well basically this council grew into something of a cult, with a head priestess that Jaggan herself grew to love as an adoptive daughter” he stopped to take a breath before continuing “Unfortunately this priestess was among the first to be butchered when the Silominth first struck out to conquer our lands; they must have been at least somewhat aware of the importance of this woman as they mounted her corpse on a post facing the mountains to demoralize us”

“That’s rather barbaric...” thought Rowan.

“...When Jaggan was awoken and heard the news she wasted no time; rushing through the forests like a demon until she finally came upon the burned out border towns and the body of her beloved priestess. Gently, she set the body on the ground before glaring east; taking up her sword in one hand and the post in her other... less than a day later she returned to her council with the mutilated corpses of four Silominth kings hanging from the very same crossbeam now facing away from the mountains”

“...Fair enough”

“Having been demoralized from the loss of their leadership the Silominth began to retreat, and though still vengeful; Jaggan ordered her people to release the prisoners they’d taken and help the wounded that the Silominth had abandoned, teaching us to be humble and motherly; though ready to strike back with righteous anger fourfold when threatened”

“...So this is a drawing of a crucifix turned gallows” said Rowan quietly, somewhat disturbed by the revelation “I prefer my first guess honestly”

“Ha, that’s understandable; Toren reacted much the same” said Seth, grinning oddly; his mood having swung back to a more passionate, almost twitchy state “Sometimes I’ll scribble it on things; occasionally for luck, though usually I do it cause’ I’m bored”

“Um... yeah” said Rowan, shifting the sack of skulls from one shoulder to the other “Maybe you could tell me more while we’re walking?, I can’t imagine the place is much further...”

“...Place?, what do you- oh!, I almost forgot why we came down here; yeah it’s just a little further” replied Seth, turning and hurrying ahead excitedly “It isn’t much now but- well, just imagine how it used to look!”

“H-hey!, wait up!” called Rowan, nearly slipping on a slick stone as he scrambled after him “I don’t have a light!”

...

*KRACK!*

*KRA-KOW!*

Luthay frowned as the third volley rained down across Xander’s; most of his colleagues had long since gotten used to being shot at, though the half-dozen or so new recruits he’d been sent seemed close to breaking “WE HAVE TO DO SOMETHING!” cried one, a normally cocky whelp named Raymond “THEY’RE GOING TO HIT THE BUILDING!”

As if on cue a fourth wave of shots came upon the city, some close enough to shatter apart much of the crude palisade built atop the old stonework, Luthay could see a few of the logs collapse right outside the front windows; with the sound of a loud thud coming from further back and above the single storied Customs building implying that some of the timber likely fell on the roof as well.

“Settle down” he said flatly, listening for a moment before he stood and stretched, walking to the door; opening it and taking a look around “It’s over. The fact that Briar and the others haven’t fired back means the Enclavers have turned around already”

“You don’t know that!” exclaimed Raymond as he peeked out the doorway, spotting the massive stone cannonball that ripped through the palisade “Look at those rounds!, they’re at least a foot and a half wide!”

“Exactly; do you have any idea how long it’ll take to reload those guns?, they’re not stupid enough to drop anchor and let themselves be slowly picked apart” Luthay said irritably, approaching the bastion closest to them; built out of old stone like everything else reliable in the city, and looked out through a gun slit; spotting a telltale plume of steam in the distance moving away from them “See?, bastards didn’t even stick around long enough to survey the damage they dealt”

Hesitantly his subordinate joined him, peering through the slit at the distant ship “...Are they on fire?” he asked squinting at the unusual vessels on the horizon; they each had large paddle-wheels on the back, and from what he could make out from this distance four of the boats were oddly flat across the front deck aside from the silhouette of what he assumed to be siege guns “Why are they smoking?”

“That isn’t smoke; it’s steam, they use machinery to drive their ships” replied Luthay plainly as the sound of their own handful of cannons rang out from a bastion further down the wall, finally returning a pitiful volley against the fleeing Enclavers. With a grimace he glanced over back at the city, teeth grit as he began to head into town.

“Hey... where are you going?” asked Raymond, looking like a lost child as he watched him leave “What are our orders?...”

“Orders?- we’re not real soldiers; do what you want or make busywork” said Luthay quaintly “As for me I’m seeing if anyone’s dead or dying; damage control and all that”

“But what if they-”

“IF they come back- which is a big ‘if’ mind you; we wouldn’t be able to do anything other than annoy them” interrupted Luthay, glaring over his shoulder “So we can either hide behind the few good walls in this city: hugging our worthless artillery like a bunch of scared children, or we can head into the wreckage and see if we can actually help people”

Not waiting for a reply Luthay strode forth, silently cursing himself for forgetting his crutch as he walked down the street; consciously having to adjust his gait so as not to lose balance “Years later and I can’t even walk straight” he grumbled, slowly getting into a rhythm “Can’t jump, can’t kneel, can’t cut meat without feelin’ sick...”

From what he could tell the majority of the shots had landed near the center of town, with one of the later barrages hitting the fringes of the richer side of Xander’s; normally he’d be glad to see the upper crust get knocked down a peg, but the fact that Seth was potentially in the crash zone took away the small bit of pleasure he got from it.

Although the streets were emptier than usual (for obvious reasons) there were still a few oddballs out and about; some Kartish lapdog running errands despite the cannon fire, a hooded figure huffing turpentine before shouting every once in a while, and a familiar old Seelie dressed up as a soldier wandering about with a dull bayonet blade “Oh!, hello friend; have the ragpickers come up to fight this time?... this time” he asked excitedly, flicking the tip of the blade out towards the rough direction of the sea “And how’s my son doing?; did Joseph get to kill one?, I know he’s been wanting to!”

“Not this time Armand” said Luthay with a sigh “Joey’s slept through it; they work evenings”

“Oh... that’s unfortunate” said Armand oddly apologetically, awkwardly hanging the bayonet from his belt loop “Well, I’m certain he’ll prove himself when the time comes; until then, maybe you should let me reenlist-

“No no, that won’t be necessary” interrupted Luthay, shaking his head “We’re doing fine as is, the enemy’s just too afraid to fight us in the open; try and enjoy your retirement for now, alright?”

“...Fine ...fine”

“Thank you” said Luthay, relieved to get out of this soon to be one-sided conversation “...Take care of yourself” he added before heading on.

There was some good news to be found as luckily no one had died this time, Luthay did find that some people had been injured however; with some being harmed from falling debris and at least one person getting hit by fragments from a cannonball which broke apart upon impact, “Toren’s place wasn’t hit thankfully” he thought, seeing the rotting yet still standing manor up ahead “I might as well check and see how well they’re getting along”

Luthay frowned as he approached the stairs leading up the front porch, leaning heavily on the railing as he stepped up; cursing the steps for being yet another reminder of his lost limb before quickly rapping on the doors “...Nothing?, nobody home?” he muttered after some time, banging harder “Fucks sake Seth... you should know to stay home until things have settled down somewhat”

With a sigh Luthay turned away from the door, spotting an old rocking chair lying on its side dejectedly near the edge of the porch; tiredly he strode towards it, propping the chair back up and taking a seat before fishing a pipe out of his coat pocket; contemplating whether or not he was sore enough to have a smoke. Truthfully he hated opium, initially smoking it as a way to spite the smugglers the office had seized it from; though as time went on he found it did wonders blocking out the pain he felt in his joints and stump, eventually becoming a habitual smoker much to his dismay.

Holding the pipe with his teeth he carefully took a pea-sized pellet of opium resin out from a small pouch and stuck it with a needle, lighting a match with his off hand and bringing the skewered pellet over the small flame; slowly heating it before dipping the pellet into the bowl of his pipe and taking a deep draw, holding his breath for a moment before finally exhaling the sickly-sweet vapor.

“I’ll just do one more once this runs out” he thought, taking another draw from the pipe before wiping the used resin off the tip of the needle “Haven’t got much else to do til the pair gets back anyways”

Despite everything Luthay found it peaceful here, although he couldn’t tell if he really felt that way or if the opium fog was thinking for him; he did enjoy the quiet breeze though, that’d always be a welcome change from the stuffiness of the Custom’s office even if weren’t for the drug. “I wouldn’t mind retiring somewhere around here, wouldn’t need a mansion though; just a quiet little cabin to settle down, smoke, and die in” he mused “Of course, I’ll probably be infertile by then; couldn’t have kids even if I found a partner... Just another dead bloodline for the Minth”

Luthay flicked away his second pellet, unconsciously reaching for a third before stopping himself; frowning and putting the pipe away “Of course... this is all assuming Gustave keeps his word and doesn’t just take me behind the barn when I get too old” he thought; thinking back to his ‘handler’ “Then again, he might not have to if he keeps ignoring the separatists; I might just be a head on a pike by the time he finally shows up... I’ll have to let him know that the next letter I send could be the last”

It wasn’t long until Luthay’s thoughts were interrupted by a certain subordinate of his “Didn’t you forget something, dad?” asked Joey with a smirk, offering him the crutch he’d left back at the Custom’s office “I’m kinda surprised you got here without it”

“...Call me that again, and I’ll cut your face off and eat it” said Luthay flatly, reluctantly accepting the crutch before letting out a sigh “...Although I do appreciate the help” he added, genuine gratitude in his voice “Shouldn’t you be asleep though?, you were up for nearly a day straight”

“I’m fine; I took a nap when we were waiting for Seth to wake up” said Joey; casually admitting to sleeping on the job “Also, I like how despite threatening me for calling you ‘dad’ you turn around and act like one; I’m an adult you know”

“...Fuck off”

“Ha, anyways, is something going on?, why are you hanging out on Toren’s porch?” asked Joey, concern in their voice as they dragged a chair closer to him and sat down. “And without your crutch no less; I’m guessing you were in a hurry?”

“It’s nothing really, I was just surveying the damage from the last raid” said Luthay dismissively “Thought I’d stop by and see how Seth and Rowan are doing”

“Ah, so you were worried they had been hit?”

“...Yeah, that was part of it” admitted Luthay, reclining in his chair “But I also need to sit Seth down and have a talk with him. I’m hoping to get his full perspective on recent events, have him clear up some things like whether or not he really murdered Toren”

“I can’t really imagine him being a killer” said Joey “I mean, you heard what the provincials said right?, how his arm appeared to have been blown apart?...”

“And how the right half of his body was burned up?, yes; Seth told me himself” said Luthay “He told me that one of the old mans inventions backfired spectacularly, and he was lucky not to get caught in the blast”

“He was with him when it happened?”

“He was the *only* one with him when it happened” clarified Luthay “And Seth made it sound like it was the kind of routine testing that Toren’s been doing for decades. Not to mention I find it odd that he’d fuck up that hilariously mere days after Seth finished planning his escape...”

“Yikes, so he’s got a motive- a good motive I should add, but what means?”

“Well, it’s no surprise he’s learned a lot of wizard-shit under Toren’s ‘care’” he said “What are the chances he put those skills to use?, the fact that some people reported hearing an explosion on the north side of town the same night Seth fled is also suspicious, isn’t it?”

“Yeah that’s pretty weird” replied Joey, idly watching a spider build a web up in the rafters “So he’s got a clear motive, slightly less clear means; and as for opportunity, what if he managed to somehow sabotage Toren’s equipment?”

“That’s plausible” said Luthay, nodding “Of course this is all just speculation; I’m hoping he won’t lie when I ask about it though”

“He never came across as a liar to me”

“That’s because he’s good at it”

...

It was a garden; or something akin to one.

The subterranean courtyard may have seen better days, but it still maintained a somber sort of beauty of its own; with the spaced out grates in the ceiling allowing for both natural lighting and some welcome respite from the overbearing humidity of the tunnels they’d been wandering through. Beneath each grate was a raised garden bed reaching around waist height for Rowan, with drainage holes at the base feeding into a little canal carved in the floor which kept the chamber from flooding; and although the once well-kept planters were now overgrown with a variety of creeping plants he couldn’t help but appreciate them in an odd way, as if they were somehow more honest in their existence than their domesticated cousins.

“It’s pretty- isn’t it?” asked Seth, smiling gleefully “It’s around noon too; so the lighting is almost perfect!”

“Yeah... it’s actually quite nice down here” replied Rowan, watching as the Acturan approached the largest of the ancient planters near the center and clambered up onto it “And you said other people rarely come down here- any reason why?”

“Well, the main reason is that you have to go through the tunnels” said Seth, reaching down and offering him his good hand “Every once in a while some drunk or careless kid stumbles down one of the entrances and gets lost, they rarely die down here thankfully. Like I said earlier though, I’ve met a few rat-catchers here and there”

“I guess the scenery isn’t worth the hassle for most people” said Rowan, lifting the sack and shovel up onto the planter before taking his hand and stepping up himself “...Maybe that’s for the best; less people to disturb them” he added, gesturing loosely to the sack of skulls “Do you want me to dig separate graves or?...”

“You can bury the whole bag” said Seth softly, scratching behind his ear “...I’d rather not see inside it again if I’m being honest” he forced an awkward laugh, looking away uncomfortably “I should be used to this!, I boiled a few of them you know!... It’s just... it doesn’t feel right seeing them out of Toren’s lab, especially not in my happy place...”

“Hey, that’s understandable; it’d be stranger if you were used to it” said Rowan reassuringly, tentatively putting a hand on his shoulder “...Why don’t you tell me more about this place?; I’ve never seen an underground garden before”

Seth flinched as he felt Rowan touch him, smiling weakly before gently brushing his hand aside “...Yeah, this is the only one I’ve ever seen” he said, glancing up towards the grate above “Xander’s isn’t the only place with subterranean ruins though, I’ve been to a couple smaller ones before coming here”

“From up north I’m guessing?” asked Rowan, beginning to dig.

“Yep, my home town didn’t have any; though I did see a few when I... moved”

“You left your family?”

“I- I left no one!” said Seth incredulously, demeanor changing as if a switch had been flipped in his brain “Mama died when I was little, Dad died in the Rangers; when my Auntie passed I had nothing!”

“What?- sorry, I didn’t mean it like that” said Rowan confusedly, taken aback by his outburst “I didn’t intend to offend you”

“Just- shut up... please” said Seth in a tone sounding both angry and ashamed at the same time as he stepped away “I’m- forgive me, thank you for helping; just let me think for a moment, please”

“...Sure thing” said Rowan uncomfortably, he swore that he could hear Seth sniffling quietly; and although he was tempted to try and comfort him somehow he figured it would be best to give him some space for the moment.

Around half an hour of relative quiet later Rowan had dug out a shallow pit just deep enough to set the sack into “...Seth?” he asked, spotting the Acturan silently looking over the garden bed opposite of the one they’d chosen “It’s time”

Seth seemed lost in thought at first, saying nothing for some time before sighing “Please... just forget everything I said a while ago” said Seth tiredly, avoiding eye contact as he cautiously approached him; ears splayed back “I... I haven’t been grateful enough; I’m sorry”

“It’s fine, really” said Rowan awkwardly, wishing to move past this “It’s not a big deal... I won’t bring any of this up again if don’t want me to” Rowan noticed his ears perk up slightly; prompting him to realize just how short the Acturan was, standing easily a half-foot shorter than him if excluding the ears “Anyways... is there anything you want to say before I bury them?”

“...I’m not sure, I didn’t think of anything beyond burying their skulls” said Seth softly, hugging himself as he spoke “It’s just... I don’t know what they would have wanted done with their remains, but throwing them in the trash feels too disrespectful; you know?”

Rowan nodded as he gently set the sack down in the grave “Yeah... even though I don’t care for religion, I still agree” he paused for a moment, thinking of something “...Plants do well on graves, don’t they?; we could plant some flowers or something later”

“That would be nice... but they’d quickly become overgrown, maybe that’s for the best though; letting nature reclaim what it’s owed” said Seth with a sigh, looking up at him “...If you’re tired I could finish filling it in; my hand doesn’t hurt as bad as it did yesterday-

“No” interrupted Rowan “Please, just rest for now; you’ll reopen your wounds if you aren’t careful”

“I’ve been through worse...”

“That isn’t a good thing”

“But...”

“...”

“...Thank you”