Enmity of Atlas

Trenton turned away from the emperor, walking over to Kaverus, who had been standing stock still ever since Trenton first emerged, “Yusadel, give him to me,” Trenton commanded, Kaverus obeying immediately, now stripped of his free will. Trenton took Yusadel’s wounded corpse, cradling it within his arms. This man was not one Trenton knew, nor one he loved, but it was a man the people were due, and he would see Yusadel returned to his city at the very least, a symbol of sacrifice–a martyr.

With Yusadel in his arms, all else taken care of, Trenton slowly walked through the crowd of lizards and humans held still by the mysterious presence, leaving the ruins of the lizard temple behind to make his way through the crowded city streets. Slowly, as the power of the presence wore off, and people once again had control of their bodies, people began to perk up, voluntarily clearing the path forward for Trenton, a growing crowd of humans trailing behind him.

Finally, Trenton reached his destination, the city square, a massive opening enough to fit thousands of onlookers. But even with its large capacity, it couldn’t hold everyone. People were practically piled on top of eachother, some even hanging onto the sides of buildings, or lining adjacent rooftops, all of them completely silent, a heavy apprehension thickening the air around him.

Trenton took a spot on top of a stone platform raised in the middle of the square, some sticks stuck into the ground the remainder of the salamanders’ past transgressions many years ago. He held Yusadel’s body high into the air, projecting his voice for all to hear, bolstering it with what presence was left to him.

“This night, Yusadel gave his life fighting for you, fighting to rid this city of the blight which has plagued it for so long, a vermin infestation which Arnis has simply allowed to remain, to grow. The salamanders are no man's friend! They have slaughtered our women and children, torn asunder the culture we took so long to build, and taken into shackles the pride we as men must share. And our brother, friend to all, died to fix this, to liberate you of your burdens without a single man’s blood spilt. But he was unable to take on this burden alone. He failed, as must any man who would seek to take onto himself the weight of the world. But he is alone no longer! Let his body–his blood–found the most evident truth this world will ever know, all oppression will fall to righteous hands! The time has come! We cannot simply take the head of Kraijsh! Every last salamander must be culled! This night will be logged in the annals of history as man’s crowning glory, the day we rose to see gone the scourge plaguing our lives! Fight, brothers and sisters! In his name, and your own!” Trenton cried out, the crowd of humans growing more and more riled with every word.

As he neared the end of the speech, he slammed his foot into the ground, spurred on by some unknowable desire. In the center of the platform, a perfect stone replica of Yusadel burst forth, standing stalwart before the surging tide of humans, Trenton slowly lowering Yusadel’s body into an ample grave before the statue. Immediately the human’s exploded in cries of anger, collecting together and picking up whatever weapons they could find, turning on the closest salamanders to them without a moment’s second thought. This had clearly been a long time coming.

Trenton stood there for a moment, watching the events unfold from atop his pedestal, questioning his own motives the whole while. He knew it was right somehow, but he didn’t know why. Then, suddenly lifting freely into the air, he began to rise above the hoard, watching from above their mad rush to slaughter. He flew across the rooftops, allowing himself to be carried by whoevers magic had him ensnared, landing gently before Garrote, Kiva, Karfice, Leo, and Millie.

“What the hell happened!?” Kiva said, fussing over Leo who was barely breathing. It was astonishing he was still alive.

His skin was barely hanging on, his body badly charred, his limbs nearly unidentifiable. He was hanging in there, if only barely. But of course, Trenton knew it was already over. The wounds were mortal. No amount of healing could possibly fix him, and at this point, it didn’t look like Garrote’s arm would ever get fixed either. Trenton had done everything he could to stabilize Leo and get him this far, Leo’s will keeping himself above the ledge despite the odds, but it was hopeless. Instead of answering Kiva’s question, Trenton sat beside Leo, looking down upon him, remembering the time they had spent together.

Many years ago, Trenton, Leo, and Kolas were nothing but typical peasants, denizens of the Arian slums, just as poor and hungry as any other. So, at the time, they really only had 2 options. They could sit still and wait to starve to death, stare at a wall with the paint peeling off, or they could do something about it, resort to thievery to survive. And that’s exactly what they did. Leo had always been pretty timid, so he didn’t like going along with their plans, but Kolas was always so energetic. He had a way of getting Leo to tag along, a charm that no other could match. Trenton, meanwhile, was simply there as insurance. He was the one who made sure they didn’t get in too much trouble, stayed out of risky areas, and made thorough, thought out decisions. It didn’t always work out, and they got close to being killed quite a few times, but they always managed to scrape by.

Then, Kolas’s mother and father contracted an illness, one that could be cured if only one could afford a good enough healer, which none of them could. Doing everything they could to help, Trenton put in hundred hour work weeks consistently to help his father’s new business take off the ground, a city mail delivery service which undercut every other, their cheap prices the result of Trenton and Delis’s hard labor. By this time, Yissle had already gone out onto the plains searching for another route, a means to make money besides the business, so they were on their own until he returned, which he never did. They were trying to fan their efforts out in every direction, tap into any market they possibly could. Trenton would even spend what little free time he had thieving money from wherever he could find it, saving it up for Kolas’s family. But then the day came, Kolas lost both his parents the same night, and when Trenton and Leo went to check on him the following morning, he was already gone, a note confessing that he was to kill himself the only thing left behind.

After that, Delis left, Trenton working even harder than before to help his father, the fruits of their labor eventually paying off just a little too late to save the Sorkupt’s. They kept expanding the business, Trenton’s father and his business partner Mrs. Fairfelt seeing incredible returns, eventually edging out the other competing services completely. But the feeling of loss never did go away. It had always bugged Trenton that he couldn’t save Kolas, that he couldn’t help him no matter how hard he tried, so Trenton had spent a lot of his life helping Leo, instead. He spent whatever time he could trying to give Leo advice, help him with training, console him on the hardships of life. But now, it was over. He would see another friend die before him, his efforts completely meaningless. Why did he even bother? Did it truly mean nothing?

Then, from just behind Trenton, a familiar voice called out, “I’m sorry, I truly am. I hadn’t meant to be gone for so long, but you must imagine the mess I had to sort through. It’s no excuse for what I’ve allowed to befall you in my absence, so let me instead make up for it in a way you might appreciate more.”

Trenton turned around. Standing just behind him, in a dirty traveler's cloak, was Walibeld, his left eye opened for Trenton for the first time ever. It was the most peculiar thing, a transient mix of gold and black patterns constantly shifting around his eye. Trenton always knew there was something there, but it wasn’t even close to what he’d anticipated.

Walibeld crouched low, hovering his hand over Leo’s body, “Stasis,” he said, the word reverberating with power. At once, a transparent green shell encapsulated Leo, his body within looking about the same as before, the magic taking no visible effect. “I suppose I must offer you explanations just as you must offer me in kind. Come, we’ll leave behind this madness,” he gestured to the streets below them, which were already stained a deep crimson, corpses of every variety littering the ground, “and find refuge outside of the city. They can see to their own.”

“What of Leo? What did you do?” Trenton asked, standing upright.

“Am I going crazy or is Trenton talking like a madman? Like what was that speech earlier? I’ve never heard him speak like this before!” Garrote shouted, throwing up his arms.

“We’ll talk more in depth once we’re in relative safety. But to answer your question, Trenton, I’ve placed Leo in a state of suspended animation. For the next month or so, his body will remain exactly as it is now, his life merely prolonged. Under normal circumstances, he’d be long dead, no healer in the world talented enough to save him. However, I know one person who can, one with a talent unique only to him. He can even fix your arm, Garrote, assuming you’ve still got the necessary parts. It took me some time, but I managed to get in contact with him while I was gone. He’s currently somewhere in Avar, which means we’ll meet up with him soon. Now come, I’ve got a spot a ways from here that will make a nice campsite,” Walibeld said, ignoring Garrote’s comment entirely.

Together, they made away from the heart of Zertial leaving the bloodshed and warring behind them. Notably, at least to Trenton, the official Zerital guards, all of them human, were not fighting in their issued raiment, instead stripping and casting aside their weapon to fight. It made no sense given the inherent advantage they had with armor and weaponry, but Trenton was in no spot to judge. They were revolting, and they were free to do it as they saw fit. So with Walibeld’s help, just as day began to break over the horizon, they made their way over the outer wall, looking one last time upon the messy streets of Zerital, sounds of fighting far off in the distance. They’d be back…in due time.