An Asnean Odyssey: Bastien

Seven

- “Do you really think this will work?”

“I’m still mad about the Philosopher’s Stone,” Randgris stated. “Sir Hammond must have hawked it as soon as he got it.”

“I still want to kill the Cockroach King,” Bastien stated.

“Why? Humphry’s dead, you have no obligation.”

“I don’t want to break my promise.”

“That’s a stupid reason.”

“I’m going. You can join me or not.”

Randgris sighed heavily. “Yeah, I’ll go. It might get me back in Leinhardt’s favor. He’s really pissed about the stone.”

“Steiner gave me something else for you, by the way,” Bastien reached into his pocket and produced the locket.

“It’s beautiful,” Randgris’ gently picked up the locket and opened it. She admired her reflection for a moment before closing it and placing it on the table. “Steiner is such a sweet girl. I almost think she knows me better than I know myself.”

“Yeah, you two share certain similarities,” Bastien jested.

“Of course,” Randgris allowed herself to smile. “We’re both princesses, after al1!”

“Wait, are you?”

“Every girl is born a princess!” Randgris winked. She grabbed the locket and disappeared beneath the hatch, then returned moments later.

“You’re not going to wear it?”

“I don’t want to sully it in the sewers.”

“Oh. Are we going right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to like, consult Leinhardt or something?”

“When I said he was pissed, what I really meant was on the verge of expelling me from the Divine Knights. I’m on leave right now,” Randgris rested her head on her hands casually. “Unpaid, I might add. It’ll be good to relieve some stress.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like it was your fault,” Randgris replied. She slammed her fist on the table. “Duke’s the one who’d better be sorry.”

“Don’t be too mad at him, please. He helped me fix Sverker, after all.”

“That doesn’t excuse his actions!”

“If you gave him a chance, I think you might find he’s not a very bad guy.”

Randgris sat pouting at Bastien for a while before replying. “Fine.”

Bastien smiled as he stood up and walked towards the door. “Does it matter where we enter the under city?”

“Not really. It’s a damned maze, there’s pretty much no way we’ll find him.”

“Why don’t we just coerce one of his disciples into guiding us?”

“I doubt that’ll work, but we could try it.”

“You really think they’ll die for their king?”

“Are you implying I wouldn’t die for mine?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Bastien tried to correct his mistake. “He’s not really a king.”

“A crown of shit is still a crown,” Randgris followed Bastien out the door and they made their way to the slums. They found the closest grate and pried it open.

“Duke!” Bastien shouted.

“Present,” Duke saluted from behind the pair.

“The only reason you don’t have an extra cavity in your chest is because Bastien pleaded me to go easy on you, just so we’re clear.”

“Ha, the boy defended my honor. How about that,” a large grin crawled across Duke’s face as the trio descended into the depths of the foul-smelling pit.

The sewers were poorly lit by torches spaced out along the tunnels. Every now and then another path would be roughly carved out of the brick walls, which were almost completely covered with moss. A thick, green stream trickled through the center of the tunnel, releasing a pungent odor. The party waited for a few minutes after they had descended.

“This is taking longer than usual,” Duke remarked.

“Yeah. That’s strange,” Randgris agreed.

“What do you mean?”

“Usually the disciples would have come after us by now,” Randgris explained to Bastien.

“Is it possible they’re out on a raid?”

“Some, but not all. No matter how you slice it, this is weird,” Duke observed. The party wandered aimlessly through the tunnels looking for a fight. Every now and then Bastien would notice a cockroach crawling along the floor. Whenever he went to step on one, however, the second his boot touched the insect it dissolved into a thick white mist.

“These are some weird bugs.”

“What?”

“These roaches. Haven’t you seen them?” Bastien asked. Duke and Randgris both looked at each other.

“I hadn’t really been looking.”

“Well, watch,” Bastien commanded as he stepped on another cockroach. It evaporated like the many before it.

“That’s clever,” Duke commented. “True to his namesake, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Cockroach King is creating illusory roaches.”

Bastien noticed a pair of cockroaches crawling out of one of the poorly made tunnels. “I think he’s leading us to him.”

“Like, he wants us to find him?” Duke observed. “I wonder who he wants to meet.”

“What do you mean who?” Randgris asked. The group began to follow the ever-increasing cockroaches through the maze of tunnels.

“I mean, You’re Leinhardt’s lap-dog, I’m...a vampire, and Bastien is,” Duke paused, trying to think of how to explain it. “Special?”

Randgris thought about it for a moment. “I suppose you have a point. I’m not his lap-dog though.”

The cavern-like passages of the under city twisted and turned until finally they came to a large opening. The chittering of insects echoed throughout the dank chamber. Cockroaches of varying sizes skittered across the floors and walls, avoiding the cesspool that flowed through the center of the room, causing a smell similar to that of excrement to pervade from within. The walls themselves were cracked brick, barely visible through the thick coat of grime. Crumbling brass chandeliers hung from the ceiling, which were missing some of their candles, but still managed to provide adequate lighting to the otherwise dreary room. Against the rear wall of the chamber was a throne built from various bones of different shades and sizes, some of which still had putrid flesh clinging to their ivory surface.

He sat upon that throne, the Cockroach King. Greasy unkempt hair, as dark as a starless night, spilled off of his skull, crashing over his shoulders. As one could expect from a life in the shadows, his skin was as pale as the moon. Perched just above his crooked nose were two small asteroids floating in disks of milk. His teeth, which had been filed to a point, were visible only when he was throwing chunks of rotten meat into his gullet and resembled lumps of charcoal. He chose to bare his chest and reveal his many scars, the most prominent of which was an incision along the base of his neck, with the word Traitor branded just below. His body had relatively little muscle definition and he appeared to be about six feet tall if he stood up. His pants were little more than tattered rags which appeared to be completely stained with blood and held up with frayed rope. Sandals hung loosely from his dirt caked soles as he kicked his feet leisurely.

“You made it!” the King rose and started clapping slowly. “I’m glad you noticed my little trick. I was afraid you were stupid.”

“Do you know why we’ve come?” Randgris inquired.

“To slay me, no doubt,” the King licked his lips. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you. I’m not dying today. Or any day, as a matter of fact.”

“And why’s that?”

The King reached behind his throne and pulled out a small sword. He thrust it into his abdomen, dragging it to the side. He dropped his sword and held open the wound with one hand, causing his intestines to splash onto the floor, while his other hand dug around inside of his chest cavity. Once he had found what he was looking for, he began to tug vigorously at it. He released a small gasp when it finally gave in. From his sunken gut he produced his still-beating heart.

“Oops,” the King playfully placed a finger over his mouth. “I wonder what that’s for.”

Bastien couldn’t contain himself and emptied what little was in his stomach. Randgris looked at the King in disgust. “What are you?!”

“You may call me Shund.”

“Like the dragon Shund?” Bastien almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You look a little different than I remember.”

“And you’ve got a new name,” Shund responded. “What of it?”

“Why are you terrorizing the city?! Why would you interfere with our lives like that?!” Randgris shouted as she drew her sword.

“It’s pointless, darling,” Shund gestured to his heart. “I do it for fun.”

“F-for fun!?” Randgris charged at Shund cutting into him. His blood splattered Randgris and the surrounding walls. She continued slashing until he was little more than a pile of blood and guts. “Destroying innocent lives is not fun.”

“Do you feel better now?” Shund asked. His pieces were writhing on the ground. They lumped together and reformed his body. “You’re not even going to ask why I beckoned you here?”

“I don’t care!”

“Randgris, don’t you think it would be a good idea to know why such a powerful being sought us out?” Duke asked rhetorically.

“Flattery, I like that.”

“It’s more of a fact, really.”

“Thank you,” a greedy grin plastered Shund’s face. “I’m actually interested in Bastien, though.”

“Why me?”

“You want your memories back, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I want you to meet Zanthe and regain your memories.”

“Why would you want to help him?!”

“I’ve become bored of this guise,” Shund explained as he twirled his hair. “I want to try something new and exciting!”

“Where is Zanthe?” Bastien asked.

“He tends to stay around the Heart of the Ocean.”

“Why would he hang around that old temple?” Duke thought aloud.

“Beats me. It’s too bright up there. And the weather, ick.”

“Fine,” Randgris spoke through her teeth. “We’ll do it. But you need to tell us where to find a pirate by the name of Gage. I have business with him before we go.”

“I’d forgotten about that...” Bastien commented.

“Well, I haven’t, and now I have nothing but time.”

“Oho! Fun, fun!” Shund’s razor teeth peeked out from behind his grin. “His hideout is on a small island off the coast. There’s a rail car that’ll take you right to it.”

“That seems like a bad set up,” Bastien commented.

“It’s a convenient way to transport cargo,” Duke replied. “Besides, who would willingly enter a pirate’s lair?”

“We would,” Randgris stated sternly.