Clouds Light and Heavy

"This just in boys," announced Katsurada, "the Roseman is two towns away from us."

Everyone's eyes went ablaze. Some became excited, some dreaded the news, and some were simply surprised. Legend or not, their attention was transfixed into this latest development of the Unionist menace.

"In a week or two we may find ourselves dead like all his other victims," warned the captain, "and that is more of a possibility than us barely surviving or the Roseman passing through this town without touching a single hair on our head. If he proceeds to Martimort via the river, consider it the luckiest day of your lives."

"Aren't we supposed to be arresting the guy?" asked Nanda the rich man who was sitting behind the rest of the group.

"Keep your heroics to yourself, Nanda," the captain sternly retorted. "I know that his is the most prized head in the Republic, and that it is very cowardly of me to say things such as being spared by the Roseman and all, but capturing him is beyond our powers. We need the help of the neighboring towns. Alone the best thing we can do is hope that the damn Unionists have not thought of us as the Roseman's next victims. But of course, we'll have to engage the Roseman if he enters Povoir."

"But isn't that what we volunteered for?" asked Polo, a veteran of the last war. "To defend this town by tacking down the Sichamers?"

Murmurs, murmurs.

Katsurada looked at Polo squarely in the eye and said, "Polo, you cover the entire troop once the Roseman enters this town."

"With pleasure," Polo cockily replied.

***

“Sandy, fetch your sister from the market. She’d be carrying a lot of things on the way home.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“And don’t try jumping off the cliff. We’re not sure if you can descend safely from that height.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“And stop giving away your feathers.”

Sandy looked at his left wing. A lot of featherless parts. His feathers would only fall off if a replacement is growing, and right now his left wing was almost naked. He had given his feathers to cute ladies, to the children. Sometimes the children—and even passersby—would be naughty enough to steal from him.

He sighed. “Yes, Mother.”

He stepped out of the house.

Almost overnight he had assumed a new identity, an identity he neither wanted nor liked. He just wanted to be Sandy, Special Defender the Republic against the Unionist threat. He liked the morning sun, good food, and his sword. He had wanted to be an angel when he was young, but that was years ago. Now he just wanted to serve the town, make his family proud of him, and live a normal life. Fate can be cruel.

He walked towards the market, but before he had gotten there, there was his sister, accompanied by a young porter who seems to have been talking all the while, seemingly trying to start a conversation with her.

***

He walked into the bar defeated. But this was not an assurance that the place was going to be quiet tonight. On the contrary, any news of a jilted love in the town of Povoir was an occasion for the men of the town to have a raunchy, and sometimes bloody, evening.

The lover did not settle into the counter alone. With him were uniformed men – though the lover was not himself of the uniform. One of these fearsome chaperons ordered, “A barrel of beer on me, Eddie!”

“You haven’t paid the last two orders of yours, Sarge,” came the swift reply.

“Beh! Do only the beautiful people get to weep with their love? Even monkeys have feelings too!” Laughter.

“Hear, hear!” the other patrolmen cheerfully shouted. “A barrel of beer!”

The young bartender angrily muttered to himself as he left to get their order.

“Cheer up, Canavero, there are still a lot of lowers in the field,” said Ned while patting his seatmate. “Tonight we celebrate, tomorrow is another date!”

“Just don’t come near my girl, Canavero,” said the fat patrolman by the window. “Otherwise I’ll cut your little monkey’s dick off.”

“Whoa, whoa!” sniped the others.

“Which is larger, the pig’s dick, or the monkey’s?” retorted Ned, itching for a fight with Rendermein.

The laughter was still there, but everyone knew that a duel had just been proposed. Fellow Sabeurreini tried to shout down Ned’s insult, but Rendermein the pig stood up and approached his heckler. “Maybe you’d like to see it outside, teenie-weenie,” he softly said.

Everyone wanted to be in the middle, but nobody actually did. Then out of nowhere Katsurada emerged, thrusting his sword through the space between his two men, saying, “You surrender your swords before you go outside. I’ll return it to you tomorrow.”

Still eyeing each other, they replied, “Agreed.” Rendermein finally went back to his seat by the window; Ned turned to face the counter again.

Eddie finally reappeared with the group’s barrel of beer. He began serving the glasses.

Ouchiyama came from behind and patted Canavero’s back. “You can still chase that horse Mizuka if you want.” Then, facing Ned, he said, “Lord knows what their baby’s gonna be – a horse dangling on a tree!” He whacked Canavero’s back before returning to his own table.

The poor servant could only weep by himself. He had been accustomed to the vicious jokes of these men, who had employed him and had saved him more than once from charges of theft and trespassing. But since when had they ever been in control of what happens to his personal life? Just now?

Eight o’clock.

Ouchiyama went out to take another soldier, Hiroya, to the latter’s home.

Nine o’clock.

Ten o’clock.

Eleven o’clock.

The men were getting rowdy. Almost everyone had given a speech, a song, or a joke to make fun of Canavero and entertain everybody else. Just when everybody had thought everybody else had forgotten,

“When will you, Rendie, be showing your enormous dick?!”

A malevolent cheer erupted. Both men had been talking with other people, but upon hearing the reminder they excused themselves and stepped outside, where they were blocked by their captain. “Swords, please,” the ever-stern Katsurada said. They gave up their swords.

“Do it behind the bar, and don’t touch Eddie’s bottles. One cracked bottle and I will have the bottle ground and have you both swallow it. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” Alcohol was just another spirit.

The men in uniform went out to follow the duelists.

The two found their spot, a dark alley filled with crates and smashed bottles. Just as Ned was about to throw a punch to Rendermein, he noticed an outstretched arm in a dark part of the alley. He shivered, giving enough time for Rendermein to land a fist on his face. Ned collapsed immediately.

“You want to see my fucking dick, huh? I’ll let you swallow it after I break your jaw. Then I’ll take a leak inside your…”

Ned, though badly shaken by the preliminary blow, did not fight back. Horrified of what he alone was seeing he tried to point to the hidden corpse, but was quickly downed again by Rendermein.

Rendermein collared him, and with a furious roar threw Ned into the very spot of the hidden corpse.

The mess that followed shocked them all.

Everyone saw the body, with the fallen Ned on top of it.

"It's Ouchiyama!"

They had pulled Ned away from the body, and removed the pile of garbage that had initially covered their dead comrade. Rendermein in his horror had stumbled and fell on his butt.

Ouchiyama's body bore deep sword slashes. Almost at once, they feared the one man known for this.

Something was protruding out of the man's chest wound.

A rose petal.

"Oh God," as they all retreated. Several turned their eyes away from the gruesome sight.

These men, many of them battle-hardened, now pained themselves with the atrociousness of their enemy's work. The sight was simply unbearable. Ouchiyama still had his face, but it had been skinned from the left side and was now dangling, with the right side to keep it from falling. Apparently the murderer had time to play with the corpse. His slash wounds were no better; besides the rose inside the chest, Ouchiyama's entrails were exposed, not out of his belly, but out of his back.

The men, drunk and smarting for a fight between Ned and Rendermein, now found themselves revolting. "Let's go after him!" "He's in town!" "Avenge Ouchiyama!" They all marched into the streets,  including Ned, and Rendermein, starting an impromptu search for the Roseman in the entire town.

If you're wondering where Captain Katsurada was in all of this, he had merely been following them., from the bar to the back alley. No use calming a bunch of drunk swordsmen. He had given Ned and Rendermein their swords, and let them on this unplanned night search. After all, this is what they should have been all doing tonight, instead of "brooding" over a servant's love problem.

They combed every alley, knocked on doors, and pronged their swords into every suspected alcove and corner.

And then disaster struck again.

Rendermein had reached Hiroya's house. He knocked on the door. "Mrs. Hiroya?"

A homely woman opened it for him. "Yes? Where's Hiroya? Is he alright?"

Rendermein was surprised. "Hiroya's not here?"

"No. I thought you were with him--"

Rendermein ran to the others. "Hiroya never made it home."