Pulpless

PLEASE! LET THEM IN!

Alexander and Ilyas read it again and again as they sifted through the stack. The disturbing writing was too expressive and visceral, if that could be on paper. 

Cenric shuffled behind them until he was beside them, but the GentlePug was too short, so Ilyas carefully handed him one of the papers to read.

Cenric's face slowly shared their enease. 

"Are all of them the same? The printing press doesn't seem to be involved," he asked, barely a whisper as he turned it over in his hand, scrutinising every spot on the blemished paper.

"All the same, but different," Ilyas answered.

With a sheet in his hand, Alexander swayed his gaze around the cabin. "The nature of this cabin is all too peculiar in and of itself. It appears to be a kitchen... repurposed?"

Ilyas nodded. "I think so too. Not very common to bolt a metal table in a kitchen."

They inspected the stash a little longer, until Alexander decided to search the cabin more thoroughly. "Perhaps... if we rummage this place more thoroughly," he muttered as he crouched and scoured the half-opened, half-broken cupboards. 

But nothing.

Ilyas and Cenric left the stash and went about exploring the kitchen with Alexander, but to no avail. It was completely empty but for the well-preserved papers.

"Should we head upstairs?" Ilyas asked after a while. 

"I doubt the stairs will be too supportive, good sir," Cenric muttered from near the stove.

Alexander shrugged. "It wouldn't make sense for anything to be stored upstairs in this place, anyway."

That was true; if the stairs were too precarious, and the table was bolted to the kitchen for stability, it would mean that whoever had pleaded on those sheets had no reason to be upstairs. But still...

Ilyas took a slow and soft step up-

Creaakk!

It threatened. Oh, it threatened to collapse, alright.

He abandoned the idea and huffed in disappointment. He would've been more persistent on reaching the second floor if his wounds weren't too Goddamn horrid.

Alexander cast his gaze past the broken window, into the darkening forest. "It's getting dark outside. I say we spend the night here. This place doesn't seem too disturbed by the jungle; perhaps the beasts find its presence uninviting."

Cenric thought for a bit, then nodded. "I agree." 

The two turned to Ilyas for his opinion, catching him by surprise. he shrugged. "You two are the scouts."

They smirked at his answer in self-satisfaction.

'I guess even Cenric has some arrogance to him. That's... kinda sweet.'

Ilyas relievingly removed his mask with that same ominous hiss and placed it on the metal table. He then joined Alexander in retrieving their supply sacks, which they kept outside just in case a horrid beast was awaiting them inside. 

***

They decided against a fire tonight, which was perfect for Ilyas.

To him, nothing pleasant ever happened around a campfire... granted, he had only ever been around two...

But that was not the point!

The point was that first impressions have a significant influence, and boy, did Benjamin make an impression.

"So he was banished to another planet because of a political controversy he had no part in?" Alexander asked in outrage, listening attentively to Ilyas's narration.

It was a shame they couldn't read with those beautifully drawn panels, but the story alone was enough to hook someone into the wonderful world of 'The Wasteland Crusader'. 

Ilyas nodded. "Yes, and not just any planet, it was a Wasteland. Nothing but dust and outlaws. Think of it as... the Union's junkyard."

Ilyas was a bit too passionate in his storytelling. His awkwardness was flushed out the window, and a much more ardent demeanour coated him. It did take quite some time to explain the concepts of space, interstellar travel and all that stuff, but in the end, after simplifying it to magic and 'another realm', they came around.

"Vile politicians," Cenric muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disgust.

Alexander clenched his fist in indignation, "I swear they're the same everywhere. Ignoble husks! What happened next? To Alexander?"

"Someone from the Central Galactic Union? In the Wasteland? Oh buddy, he had it tough. His first inclination was to..."

Ilyas rambled on and on about the events of the first issue for god knows how long. Since he read the series more than once, he could even recite some of the lines word for word, especially Alexander's quotes.

Cenric and Alexander didn't feel the passage of time, listening intently with a mix of mirth and comical seriousness.

Cenric treated the events as if he would treat real-life atrocities: a firm shake of the head, and very formal, and disgusted or appreciative comments... depending on the scene, really.

Alexander, meanwhile, was sitting up on his knees like a schoolchild, all his haughtiness lost. Ilyas finally felt as if he were in the company of the true Alexander and not that superficial persona of his. It was quite endearing.

Alexander took a bite from a pulpless tomato pensively. "I see... It's quite sad how fictional tragedies are so similar to real-life."

"I was meaning to ask," Ilyas ventured, "How did this Salivitian situation come to be anyway?"

Both Alexander and Cenric huffed bitterly with wry smiles. 

"How do you think, good sir? Politics and greed," Cenric said.

Ilyas turned to Cenric curiously. "But, how were you guys caught so off guard that this whole situation is a Retreat and not..."

"Not a war?" Alexander finished. He took a deep breath, then sat back. "The Salivitians, they rose out of nowhere. Like a natural disaster. By the time we learned of their expansion in Serecy, it was too late. Sycrusia knew, but it was to their benefit. Why wouldn't they want the Mathesonian Empire to lose Sercey, the significant trade hub in the Mediterranean? They were the ones who provided them with enough nourishment to grow, anyway."

Ilyas gulped, then finally asked the question that had been weighing on his mind for far too long. "Then, why are you here, Alexander, sir? You're the son of a lord, so far from home, in a losing war."

Cenric, too, turned to Alexander, curious.

But Alexander's face took such a sour expression that Ilyas suddenly felt the urge to apologise for his question. Eventually, though, Alexander sighed his bitterness away and said without much emotion, "I came with the Mathesonian envoy. Not for a purpose, I had no purpose. But for image."

"You were sent with the negotiating envoy?" Cenric asked in surprise.

Alexander nodded. "There were hundreds of Methesonian officials in the envoy, so don't be too surprised. The Sycrusians pretended to mediate the negotiations, but we learned too late that it was all a ploy. The negotiations were intended to go south. An instigation fest, really. The Salivitians weren't willing to compromise one bit, and when it became clear that neither side would step down, a pirate fleet sank the Mathesonian fleet in an ambush, and all the senior officials in our envoy were massacred. I was part of the envoy south with Princess Rheya, and the Lord Minister of Economy's deputy."

Cenric and Ilyas bowed their heads in solemn silence. 

"So what happened next? And wouldn't that mean the Sycrusians and Mathesonians-"

"The Sycrusians officially have no part in it all. On paper, they were mere bystanders. However, since the Salivitians lack the naval capabilities or funds to hire a Pirate fleet, everyone back home, as well as in all the Mathesonian colonies, must be seething. Celestes know the Athenian Kingdom is. Other than news about the rescue fleet, all connections from the outside to this sodding continent are lost, so we have no way of knowing the state of the world at the moment."

Blinking rapidly, Ilyas was like Alexander listening to his narration of The Wasteland Crusader.

'Finally! Finally, some answers, Goddamit! Finally!'

Ilyas gulped and probed, "Athenian Kingdom?"

Cenric groaned and sat up. "Yes, good sir. A Mediterranean Kingdom under the Mathesonian Empire. Their daughter is Princess Rhea. Since their kingdom is relatively close to Serecy, she was part of the envoy."

Ilyas jerked his head to Alexander and asked, "Weren't you two in the same envoy?"

Alexander remained silent for a few seconds before saying mournfully, "Surviving the initial ambush wasn't easy, Mister Ilyas. The Mathesonian garrison in Serecy was slow to react. She..." He paused, took a deep breath, and continued, "She is probably in the Celests' embrace."