The Frog Who Boils Alive

Anjima's mountainous terrain was difficult to conquer. Historically, the country's leaders avoided constructing settlements within its valleys, believing them to be the territories of dragons, instead expending great economic effort to erect cities which seemed as though they were collapsing down the mountainside from the perspective of an onlooker. Since becoming a member of the Holy Alliance, more villages have appeared along the western coast and towards the eastern border in an attempt to reduce the threat of landslides.

Shukora's position upon one such mountain--the largest around by far, allowed the city to exploit the land's volcanic activity in the form of hot springs, which had become a popular attraction for tourists and were staples of the city's many inns. The rejuvenating waters of Shukora were visited by many an ageing pilgrim drawn to miraculous claims of their healing ability. Even if such things were exaggerated, there were scarce few occasions when Barion had felt more comforted than he did at the moment of entering a hot spring.

"Hah…" He smiled, "It's certainly been a while since I was able to enjoy this."

The baths weren't mixed, and yet there was a distinctly feminine form beside him, although it was difficult to say for sure on account of it being a living shadow. The just-short-of-scalding water imparted a level of comfort that slowly interfered with Fusala's concentration, her amorphous body mixing and staining the surface.

"According to my research, it is not appropriate for a man and a woman to share a bath together." She muttered, "Is it possible that such occasions are no longer cause for embarrassment in the modern age?"

"Are you embarrassed?" Barion asked.

"No."

"Neither am I. We've both been alive for centuries, so it's only natural that the sight of a half-naked body doesn't embarrass us anymore." He mused, "I still remember our visit to Shukora 500 years ago. At a certain inn, you could pay to have a beautiful woman accompany you in the baths, and pour sake for you."

"Was this a brothel, or an inn?"

"Whether it was this or that doesn't matter, but don't imply that every woman who sells her body is a prostitute." Barion scolded, "I didn't try anything because that wasn't what I paid for, and if a woman wants to offer that kind of service, it's the responsibility of the client not to push it."

"How responsible." She praised flatly, "Is it possible that you are a man with very few inhibitions?"

"I would never turn down the embrace of a woman." He stated resolutely, "To me, at least, leaving even a single interested woman unsatisfied is like a cardinal sin. I want nothing more than a world filled to the brim with people that have reasons to smile, whatever they are."

"I think I am beginning to understand why my mother did not take well to you."

"That was more to do with me being a foolish young man back then."

"I see." Fusala paused, "Do you have a preference when it comes to women?"

"I'm not going to sugar-coat it, Fusala." He answered immediately, closing his eyes in thought, "I love huge breasts. Maybe more than anything else in the world. I understand that a preference for ass is healthier for a woman's self-image, and not to mention more realistic in the long run, but I absolutely can't deny the truth."

"Please forget I asked."

"There's nothing wrong with-"

"It isn't about that." She cut him off, "Please do not assume that your preferences bother me."

"As long as we've got that out of the way, then it's fine." Barion crossed his arms, "-Also, I want to declare right here that I've never used my status as a hero to impress women. I don't think pulling that kind of trump card is fair to other men, and it condemns women to becoming objects of affection. I don't want to spend a night with someone who feels like a doll, but a person who fully enjoys what they're doing. I wouldn't accept anything less."

"It seems this is a subject you feel very passionately about."

"Loving, communicative sex…" He took a deep breath, "That is the way of Heaven."

"How troublesome."

With their souls thoroughly cleansed in the baths, Barion changed into a fine robe that was prepared for him in their room, and helped himself to some of the complimentary sake the two of them had been given.

"When will that man be arriving? We did not agree on an exact time, or tell him where we would be spending the night." Fusala asked.

"Soon, I imagine, and he'll find us just fine. Believe me."

"You have still not told me who he is."

"Is it really that important? He's a good ally to have--that's the most important thing."

After saying that, there was a knock at their door.

"Speak of the devil. Hm." He smirked, "The door's open! Come on in!"

The cart-owner from before had changed out of his practical work clothes into something that a noble of Shukora may have been seen wearing. His pale face, upon which grew a troubled and somewhat listless expression, was distinctly uncanny in the low light of that room.

"I see you're enjoying the city fully, Barion." He greeted.

"Would you like a drink?"

"I don't think it would sit well. This is quite a serious problem we're about to discuss."

Sitting down at the opposite side of the ankle-height table, he sighed, "That curse you've got there… that's a Homunculus, isn't it?"

"You don't need to hide, Fusala." Barion urged, "He already knows you're there."

Melding out from his own shadow, the girl took form beside him, looking as troubled as an expressionless being of darkness possibly could, "My apologies."

"I didn't think you'd tolerate a forbidden product of alchemy, Barion." The man said.

He tilted his head, "How do you mean?"

"There was a time when a Homunculus would have been called a Demon, too."

"She's harmless. And if it wasn't for her, I'd have never found myself in this city to begin with."

"If you say so. There are certainly greater threats at hand right now."

"Do you know anything about the trade embargo?" Barion crossed his arms, "My wagon's still at the city gates right now. Doesn't seem to me like there's a crisis going on or anything like that."

"I know very little other than that it was the emperor himself who ordered it." The man answered, "It's been a week since the last caravan was allowed to enter the city."

"Some of the smaller restaurants have run out of supplies, I've noticed." Barion replied, "Owners without a lot of capital to throw around are having to close down, probably because the price of food is beginning to skyrocket. Once pantries start running dry, the city will eat itself from the inside-out, starting with the needy before decimating the working class."

"The emperor is only a child, but even knowing that, it's difficult to imagine why he would order such a thing." The man continued, "Barion, this may sound strange, but I believe a Demon may be responsible for the emperor's decision."

"No, I was about to suggest the same thing." He concurred, "The question is--how are we supposed to weed it out? Unless you're secretly a member of the interior ministry, I doubt we'll be wandering up to the palace doors."

"Actually, we will." The man corrected, "There is to be a cherry blossom viewing tomorrow afternoon in the palace gardens. The bar for entry is not particularly high--I have an invitation myself, actually, and guests may bring along one associate of their choosing."

"I suggested sneaking in at first." Fusala commented, "However, Barion was reluctant."

"That would certainly be a lot more exciting." The man replied, "Barion is quite the spoilsport, however, and I believe this opportunity is too good to pass up."

"What's the plan once we get inside?" Barion asked, "I assume the palace isn't open to visitors?"

"You would be correct, but the emperor will be present in the gardens."

"Do you think a Demon might be possessing him?"

"Something like that. My conclusion differs somewhat, but getting close to him will confirm either suspicion."

Saying that, the man stood up from his cross-legged position, "If that's all, then I would like to get going."

"Can't stand another second talking to me?"

"I'd like to get an early night's rest."

"Excuse me." Fusala interrupted him, "If I may ask--who are you?"

"Barion hasn't told you?" He paused, "If that's the case, I would rather not say."

"Based on your conversations, I have already identified the most likely answer."

"If you're in the know, it's not a particularly difficult thing to figure out." The man concluded, "I will see the two of you at the palace gates an hour past midday tomorrow."

And with that, he was gone. For Barion, it was as if a dragon had just passed through the room. A void of nothingness moved in to occupy the space their presence had created, and the violent shaking in his soul ceased. Quietly pouring himself another serving, he was for a moment lost in a nostalgic daydream, reminded of days long past.

"What a small world we live in." He muttered, before downing his drink.