Reborn From the Cosmos

ARC 7-Cursed Fates-154-Lane

Lane stumbled through the camp, fighting to keep his drooping eyes open. It had been a long day in a series of long days. He was proud that the Hall had intervened to help the refugees of the city, but he couldn’t deny his regret for getting involved. He didn’t know what he was getting into while blindly following Alyssa. He barely had time to talk to his crush between his duties. He was happy that Alyssa trusted him, but that trust put him in the middle of many annoying situations. Aside from arranging the patrols and taking reports, he had also fallen into the role of the resident troubleshooter.

One of the shelters was damaged and the earth acolytes were being stubborn bastards? Lane had to sweet talk them. Someone showed signs of the fatal sickness people weren’t supposed to know about? Lane had to quietly slip them away from the heart of the camp to the holding area. Somebody threw a punch after the stress of escaping a monster and sharing a small shelter with half a dozen strangers made them snap? Lane had to go talk them down.

Every day, he was worked to the bone. The day had been particularly bad. For some reason he couldn’t possibly fathom, dissent was spreading through the camp. There were people that blamed the Hall for the tragedy of the city. Those who thought that Dunwayne should have acted sooner or that the Hall could be doing more to help them recover their lives.

It was ridiculous, but hatred didn’t need logic to sustain it. The people in the camp were looking for a reason to lash out, good or bad. And someone had given them one. Lane got involved when a member of the Watch reported that a group was making a racket in the middle of camp. While they tried to leave the refugees to their own devices, they couldn’t tolerate anyone disturbing public order.

Lane went with the intention of calming them down and perhaps sending them outside the camp for a few hours. Somehow, he ended up in a shouting match with ten bedraggled men with angry eyes and fierce sneers. His attempts to calm them down riled the men up further. Before he knew it, one of them was running at him with a raised fist.

The Watch acted to subdue the man and his friends. Somehow, that became the Watch making an unprompted attack on brave men willing to speak up for the oppressed people of Quest. Their shouting about the injustices against them had stirred the crowd and a single spark started an inferno. In the course of a few breaths, the Watch went from pacifying a small group to a large mob.

In the end, Lane had needed to use walls of fire to cut off their rampantly mounting aggression, forcing them back into their shelters and tents with extreme heat. Then he’d needed to calm the members of the Watch down, as the last thing the camp needed was its peacekeepers resorting to violence prematurely, and then rearrange the patrols. He also had to write a report about the troublemakers.

By the time he was finished, it was dark, a headache was brewing in his skull, and he felt nauseous from mild core strain. It was a struggle to shuffle through the camp. Only the thought of collapsing into his uncomfortable cot kept him going. Normally, he tried to have dinner with Alyssa, but he didn’t even have the energy to eat.

He certainly didn’t have the energy to deal with four shadowy figures that stepped out of the shadows around him to bar his path. Lane forced himself to straighten up as they came to a stop. “Whatever this is, can it wait till tomorrow?” he asked, his exhaustion weakening the authority he was trying to convey.

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“Saints damned uppity acolyte,” one of the men growled before spitting to the side. “Guess you expect us to kiss your ass, don’t you?”

“No, but I would like you to get out the way.”

One of the men stepped forward. Lane found it hard to focus but he was pretty sure that he didn’t recognize the man from the troublemakers from earlier. The camp didn’t have the space, facilities, or resources to hold prisoners so he’d let the instigators of the incident go with a stern warning that if they caused any more trouble, they’d face consequences. What kind, he had no idea. If it came to it, he’d kick the problem up to Alyssa.

But the man looked nothing like the ruffians that tried to start a riot. He didn’t look much like a refugee. It went beyond his clean clothes, his manicured goatee, and neatly braided black hair. Beyond the obvious signs of wealth like the rings on his fingers and the heavy gold necklace around his neck. It was his eyes. The refugees didn’t have any will. Their eyes were empty and hopeless.

The man in front of him was far from empty. His dark brown eyes practically gleamed with emotion. Lane had a strong instinct that being the focus of that stare was going to be a problem, but it was too late for him to avoid him.

“Lane Macklemore?” the man asked, though there was no doubt in the words.

“Yeah.”

“I apologize for waylaying you after what has clearly been a trying day. I simply wanted to apologize for my comrades’ action. Our movement doesn’t support violence. They let their tempers get away from them. It was a poor showing but one can hardly blame them for snapping. These are trying times for even the patient among us.”

“Who are you?”

He smiled. “No one important. Will you allow us to escort you back to your tent?”

Did he want to be escorted by four strangers whose comrades had tried to hurt him earlier? “I can make it on my own just fine.”

“As you wish. I would make a request of you, in your position as a member of the Watch. I’d like to speak with Alyssa Filagree.”

“About?”

“What else? About this camp and the refugees that depend on it. It’s obvious to anyone that cares to look that the current circumstances will lead to a tragedy. If we want our city back, our lives back, then we must get proactive. As a voice of the people, I would hope to discuss them with the woman with the power to change our futures.”

“If you want to talk to her, I’m gonna need your name.”

The man gestured one of his companions forward, a large man with broad shoulders and an unkempt appearance, especially next to the well-groomed man. “This is Renald. He will find you in the morning and in the afternoon until you have an answer from Miss Filagree.”

“She’s not going to appreciate the secrecy.”

“I understand that it will make things more difficult, but it is necessary. These are dangerous times. Quest and its people have enemies. Someone stepping forward in this time of crisis makes a target of themselves. Before I can protect the people, I need to be able to protect myself.”

“…fine. Whatever.” The poor fools didn’t understand how little tolerance Alyssa had for games, especially when they involved her, but they would find out. “Is that all?”

“That’s all.”

The man gestured again and the others stepped aside, leaving him plenty of room to walk between them. Lane hesitated, his instincts telling him not to walk between enemies, but he buried the vague dread and shuffled forward. The four men watched him intensely but made no suspicious move. Though the mysterious man threw parting words at his back as he passed.

“It’d be in the best interests of everyone if you convinced your boss to meet with me. Either way, I will be heard.”