“I see. Sorry to hear that.” With that, the priest seemed to lose interest in Shannon. He reached a huge arm down to the medicine girl. Instead of simply giving her a hand up, he lifted her bodily and held her up until she regained her feet.
“Are you all right?” A kind smile softened his rough features.
“A Mauserist priest,” the girl whispered with a trace of fear in her voice.
“That’s right. You haven’t met one before?”
The girl’s face showed emotion for the first time since Shannon had first set eyes on her. But it wasn’t curiosity from seeing someone new, or even relief at being rescued. The expression on her face was one of unexpected revulsion tinged with fear.
“What’s wrong?” The priest bent down to her in concern. “Did you take a hit somewhere?”
“D-don’t touch me!” the girl shrieked.
The priest moved his hand away. “What?”
The girl scooped up her scattered medicine packets and rushed away without another word.
The priest stared after her for a moment, then shrugged. “That’s odd,” he said, seemingly untroubled by the girl’s strange behavior and lack of manners. “Oh, well. Now, let me see.”
He turned to the two young thugs, who were both exactly where he’d left them. They screamed in panic as the huge man grabbed one in each hand.
“Why the heck didn’t you two run away? Oh well, better for me. Maybe I can beat some sense into you little punks.” He laughed evilly.
“Please d-don’t kill us!” one of them begged.
The priest seemed annoyed by that comment. “Watch what you say. You’re talking to a priest who serves Mauser—I would never kill anyone or anything without a good reason.”
An expression of hope appeared on the thugs’ faces.
“I’m just going to take all of your things, tie you up, and throw you in the river.”
They wailed again. “Y-you said you wouldn’t kill us!”
“Oh, shut up. You won’t die.”
“Um, that would kill anybody,” Shannon couldn’t help interrupting.
The priest sighed. “Fine,” he muttered. “You spineless cowards. I’ll just take all your stuff, tie you up, and leave you on the side of the road.”
“Why are you going to rob them?” Shannon asked, his confusion mounting by the second.
“Consider it tuition for the life-lesson I’m teaching them today. It’ll also cover my medical bills.” He gestured to the arm where he’d been stabbed, which had stopped bleeding some time ago—it obviously wasn’t a serious wound. “Consider it an offering to the great god Mauser; maybe in return they’ll get some brains.” The priest started searching through their pockets. “Hey, you’ve got a lot of cash in here.”
“B-but that’s all my earnings for the whole month,” one of the thugs whined.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make good use of it on food and drink and the like. Wow, I didn’t expect to get this much from beating on a couple of thugs.”
“Y-you…thief!” Reegs exclaimed.
Without hesitation, the priest socked him right on the head.
“I’m a thief? You’re the one who stabbed me first. But if you’d prefer, we could go ask the security forces what they think about it.”
The youths fell silent, then started weeping. At that point, Pacifica walked over. Her gaze moved from the priest, to the crying thugs, and back again.
“Don’t you call him a thief!” she scowled at the sobbing thugs. “He’s definitely more of a mugger.”
“A bandit, maybe,” Shannon added in disgust.
The medicine girl ran into an alley. She leaned against a wall and clutched at her chest, trying desperately to catch her breath.
“That priest,” she whispered, her eyes burning with extreme hatred and fear.
“What’s the matter, Sis?” a voice called out from behind her. She jumped at the sound and turned to face the speaker.
A boy stood in the entrance of the alley. He looked two or three years younger than she, with the same brown hair and black eyes. He also carried a medicine basket.
“A Mauserist priest… in town…”
The boy’s eyes darkened with the same fear and hate as his sister’s. “You mean that old priest from the church on the edge of town, right? There’s nothing scary about him—he’s just annoying.”
The Mauserist church on the outskirts of town was quite small and seldom visited by most of the townsfolk; a religion that stressed shunning worldly possessions to focus on the spiritual rewards was not very popular in a town of merchants. Donations from wealthy ship owners came from time to time, but the church itself remained empty. The priest who lived there was slowly going senile.
“N-no, it wasn’t him,” the girl continued, still visibly shaken. “It was a giant priest around thirty. He looked like a traveler from out of town.” She looked fearfully at her brother. “I think he was… an Inquisitor.”
The boy began to tremble.
“Wh-what are we going to do, Sis?” he asked.
“Quart, you go back and tell Sir Ganvas. I’m going to…
The girl reached into her basket and pulled out one of the red packets. She exchanged a significant look with her younger brother.
Quart nodded and ran off. His sister looked at the packet in her hand, a terrible expression on her face.
“I’ll show that Mauserist dog.”
The air was filled with the rich, appetizing aromas of spices, liquors, and oils. Waitress bustled throughout the dimly lit room with steaming platters balanced in their hands. The mingled sounds of people talking and cutlery clinking filled the room like a warm wave of noise.
Pacifica was clearly in a good mood. “This is so delicious!” she cried as she scooped another forkful of cheese omelet into her mouth. Her favorite food was eggs—boiled, scrambled, or fried, she loved them in any shape or form. Although her siblings still had half their meals on their plates, she was already polishing off the end of her Deluxe Cheese Omelet for Two with Special Sauce.
“You can really put it away,” Shannon said as he fussily picked the mushrooms out of his food.
“At least I don’t eat like a five year old,” Pacifica retorted.
“She’s right,” Raquel said as she daintily took a bite of her own meal. “It’s about time you stopped being so picky.”
“Do you understand, wittie boy? You haf to eat your mushwooms.” Pacifica seemed prepared to keep taunting him for hours, so Shannon ignored her and turned to his twin.
“Mushrooms are a kind of fungus. Eating them makes me feel gross.” Shannon looked carefully at his fork, then took a mercifully mushroom-free bite.
Located along a trade route, the town of Mosburg hosted a variety of people and the things they carried with them on their travels. Although the town didn’t have a unique local cuisine, the eateries and inns had a wide range of food.
The dining hall of the White Sail Inn was extremely crowded; although the room could seat more than a hundred people, there wasn’t an empty table in sight. The very accommodating restaurant was known for its great cooks, and many people who weren’t spending the night at the inn would still go to buy a meal.
Despite all the bustling, chattering, and clinking dishware surrounding them, Shannon didn’t mind the disorderly atmosphere. He was a commoner at heart, and this was the commoner’s way of eating.