Trouble brewing

"You understand the ancient language of the gods?" High priestess asked, perplexed. She then noticed her error, she had asked that in common language, so only the Mayi could understand her query. She promptly changed it to the language that had made their guest exclaim.

"You speak god tongue?" Her understanding was alright, and she could read many texts, but given that it was not a language in common usage, actually using it to speak proved quite the challenge, but Chege didn't mind. He was so excited that he could finally understand someone he almost forgot to answer.

The Mayi people listening in were taken aback. Many had learned to speak the words since they were small, but few even knew what the words meant. Only a select few were chosen to train in the dead language, and all of them had to be priests or priestesses. Moreover, this language was so hallowed that using it out of religious activities was seen as heresy.

Therefore, few understood it when Chege exclaimed, but hearing the question of the high priestess, they understood immediately. Different reactions could be heard all over, but Chege and Menza's conversation went on.

"Yes! Yes!" Chege answered once he realized she was still waiting for his reply. Being unable to speak had rendered him almost a mute, and he expected her to understand his gestures.

"What you?" She asked. This was a question that had been weighing on her mind. Not just due to Chege's extraordinary physique or the incredible things, but something much more profound. Looking at him now, she wondered if Chege was what she hoped he'd be, but she couldn't take any chances.

"I would have asked the same question too. Better yet, where am I?"

"This is Idi, Home of mortals." This was a common phrase, one prevalent in many of the Mayi folklore. What stood out about it was that though it was still spoken in the language of the gods, it was one of the few phrases very commonly used even among the common folk.

More than anything, this phrase was almost always associated with the love of the world. This is what made it acceptable and even useful as a curse word. Its origin was from the tales of gods who managed to come to this world but got lost. In another, it was told to a villainous god who had sort to bring destruction but was stopped.

The implied meaning being, Chege was not of this world. Anyone listening in, and this was every Mayi present, understood her underlying meaning, and shuddered. Could it be that the gods had decided to visit in their hour of need? Was he the promised help they longed for?

If Chege knew what they were thinking, he would have puked blood. Born without a proper home or upbringing, without any prospects set in his life, Chege knew he was not god material, not by a long shot.

Anyway, he had to shelf most of the questions he had since he had interrupted a special ceremony. Many didn't even see the point of praying since their prayers had been answered. On the flip side, many prayed with fervency, afraid the gods might take away their treasure. All in all, Chege's position in the community had been solidified.

***

"Are you incapable of dealing with a single monster? Are you truly of the Tlas family?" The woman scolded after the explanations given by Sir Anyang. Her disdain for him was evident. Sir Anyang belonged to one of the major families in the Gargautan Empire, the Tlas family. This was why he was able to command such prestige among.

However, his position in the clan was rather low. As a bastard son to the fifth uncle of the main family, he was pretty far removed from the action. Despite that, he had performed relatively well enough for his father to recognize him, and give him the family name.

Over the years, he had proved a capable subordinate, one who did as was bid. Perhaps it was for this reason that he was given such a prestigious role as the overseer in one of the Tlas Estate holdings, a planet located in the fringes of the Gargautan star cluster system.

Many who knew the inner workings of the Tlas family business would have been shocked to learn of Sir Anyang's posting. However, given the absurd amount of property they wielded, the Tlas family could afford to toss a nobody like him to such high positions since they had multiple.

"Check the footage!" Sir Anyang retorted, before relenting. Despite her obvious contempt, she was his superior and he had to show respect, "What I mean is, if you analyze the data provided, particularly the video recording, you will get a fair impression of what we are dealing with."

"What do you want then?" Though she was not fully convinced, she relented. In her experience, inexperienced and small people tend to cry wolf every time there was a rustling of leaves, it was up to people like her to handle such situations. Similarly, she also knew that a weasel such as Anyang wouldn't dare call her unless he had something important. Of course, the definition and weight of what was important depended on the person.

"I request more specialized assistance from the family."

"You know we cannot afford to make this mission any more high profile than it already is. There is a reason why you were selected, so no one would pay you any mind." The last part had a bitter sting of spite in it, but Sir Anyang knew this to be true.

Very few hand-picked people knew the purpose of the mission. Not even Doctor Mark did. If not for the fact that turning him down would have drawn more attention than accepting his request, the Tlas family would never have agreed.

Many advocated for a bold approach, quoting that they had enough strength for them to protect their treasures. While that was true, you don't dangle a carrot in front of a bunny just cause you stronger than it. For the time being, they were to maintain the uttermost level of secrecy.

"The Tlas family has done a lot more for a much lesser reason," Sir Anyang was ready with an answer, one he presented earnestly. "If we claim that the creatures have dishonored the family name, we'll be free to use whatever might we have at our disposal."

"We?"

"You know what I mean." Sir Anyang hated kowtowing to these bastards who thought they were better than him for being born closer to 'the family!' Was it his fault that his father was promiscuous?

"I'll give it a thought." She cut the call soon after, without so much as a goodnight. Sir Anyang expected that, so he just stood up gently and walked around his chair. Then in a fit of rage, he grabbed it and started banging it on the floor.

Elsewhere, Lady Shaleen took off her gown. She couldn't allow such a low-life to see her body. With a naughty thought, she looked at the figure lying in her bed he was more of a low-life than her cousin.

She contemplated going to bed and joining her latest conquest but relented. For a workaholic like her, once she was up, she stayed up. So she rang the kitchen and had them deliver her a hot cup of joe. Sitting in her study, she fired up her comms and started analyzing the data.

***

"I already said, if you going to pass here, you need to pay taxes!" The burly man exclaimed. Eyeing the group of people gathered in front of him, he had a very sardonic smile indeed. Each represented a fat ward of cash that would be coming his way soon, and he could almost count it.

"But I already paid!" The captain of the caravan answered back livid. He hated such characters, willing to milk him and his people dry. However, this bandit had the numbers, and his people were cornered.

"Yes, you and your crew can pass. The rest need to pay up!" The bandit had a sign with his hand, indicating he wanted money. The captain had already paid the 'protection tax' demanded by the bandits. Even so, the lead bandit wasn't willing to let them move, preferring to keep toying with them.

"Tell you what, if anyone of you can put down Big Smokes here," He said this indicating a very burly man standing next to him, "then I can guarantee safe passage."

Big smokes was well known among the bandits and the travelers for his savagery. Once he set his sights on someone, he didn't relent until he had pummeled them to the ground. His massive fists were incredibly fast for a big man, and he was not a foe many would choose.

After he had said that, even the strong men in the caravan caved. The only way a bandit group could waylay and keep a caravan like this was if the said caravan was mid-tier or lower. In this case, the caravan was low-tier, indicating that only the poorer merchants or commoners would use it.

In this world, might was right. That being said, those that could command or purchase power were still looked on as powerful themselves. A bandit group daring to harm high profile people was just asking for a beating.

However, anyone strong enough to threaten the bandit group wouldn't be found in a low-tier caravan such as these, so in the minds of the bandits, the passengers were fair game. They contemplated killing the men and taking the women, but they still needed to milk these people some more. Who knew what they could be hiding.

The bandit leader looked down on his catch. With just 5 guards and 24 travelers, the caravan could not be called a catch by any standard. Despite that, they still chose to stop them, anything is better than nothing.

No amount of pay given was tempting enough to let the people go, so even after they paid up, he still kept them, raising the fees. The captain looked on helplessly. Since he had no power to stop what was happening, he felt as though he himself was taking part.

"Come on, is there really none of you with the balls to face me?" Big Smokes asked thumping his chest. He wanted his pound of flesh, and he would have it. "Let me make this interesting. If one of you manages to beat me, all of you will be released, right cap?"

"Right on!" Even the bandit leader wanted some entertainment.

"So what's it going to be?" Big Smokes was like a beast, menacing and fierce. He eyed the hostages as though they were ants, ready to crush them. In his eyes, one could see the fire of excitement burning, and he wanted nothing more than to crush a skull. He hadn't done that in quite some time.

One person stood up from among the hostages. All this time he had had a dirty cloak on, making identifying him difficult. Nevertheless, when he did stand, something about him seemed different.

Taking off his dirty cloak, a handsome face was revealed. There was no look of fear in him or intimidation. Similarly, he didn't look like a commoner. The years of hard labor wore on anyone, but the rich looked as though they were young and delicate.

The man walked confidently towards Big Smokes. The bandits looking on were burning with excitement, the hostages had a look fo worry. There was no doubt that Big Smokes was lethal, his presence very frightening. Despite that, the man approached.

In a world where a magic crossbow was the pinnacle of invention, fists were still useful in a match, and that was what Big Smokes planned on using.

The hostage that had stood walked until he was less than 3 meters away from his opponent. He then pulled out a black wand and pointed it at the enemy. When the hostages were stopped, they had been searched for anything that might look like a weapon, but the wand didn't look threatening at all, so it had been left with the person.

Even now, it still didn't look threatening. There were no sharp edges, just a small hole. However, in the next instance, a frightening roar was heard. It seemed to come from the wand, and before they could react, Big Smokes was down, a hole in his skull.

Turning around, the hostage proceeded to fire at each bandit. One-shot, one kill. When he ran out, he would just pick up another magazine, pop it in his chamber and resume firing. This went on until all the bandits were down.

The hostages were ecstatic, to be saved just like that. None knew how their assailants had died, but they were sure glad to be rid of them. They ran towards their hero as they applauded.

The captain was the first to notice, but soon, the others did as well. The person didn't seem as though he was finished, even popping in another magazine. When it dawned on him, it was too late for him to do anything, they were too close.

Not for the first time that day, he felt his heart crumble with apathy, only this time was the last. At point-blank range, the bullet tore through his brain stem. He was dead before he hit the ground. At least that was an act of mercy, sparing the captain from seeing the death of his people.

After everyone was dead save for one, the man checked his magazine, put his gun in safety and pulled out a mini-comms set and accepted the call. The face of a beautiful woman popped up.

"Lady Shaleen, to what do I owe the pleasure?"