Blacksmith of the Apocalypse

“Errm, is this a brothel?” Seth asked amused, seeing the ladies dancing in revealing clothes and transparent veils. Someone had actually built their version of a strip club in the Pythian village. The wide ground floor offered a lot of space for a variety of people to sit and enjoy the show.

There were not only cultivators, but Seth could also see Urthans and demi-humans like dwarfs or beastmen among the clientele. If he wasn’t completely wrong, not all of the dancers were foreigners, either.

Despite there not being any great visible difference between people from Urth and people from the voracious cloud continent, he felt like there was a difference in their gait and the way people of Urth carried themselves, compared to them. Or maybe it was the vastly different style of dancing.

What Seth noticed was that there were quite a few sharp gazes, focused on them as they sat down. Some even held hostility. Of course, they couldn’t be liked by everyone, but these gazes were quite disrespectful.

“So, what exactly happened yesterday?” Seth asked the group since Mina had a hard time explaining it to him the other day.

“Yesterday, some cloud people started openly battling in the streets, endangering the building and bystanders. Something about a blood feud and that they can’t accept living under the same sky…” Bulko started explaining.

As they detained the men and their allies, they started pouring out their sob stories, trying to sway them to join either side. It was all a hot mess of assassinated brothers-in-law, poisoned Grandfathers, sprinkled with various fights for damaged honor and “face”.

“When we were about to get them to the prison, where they would stay until kicked out, a man suddenly appeared. He called himself Lang Zung, the stalking Cicada…”

He started to argue with them, that Minas Mar had no rights to interfere in the business of these people. They were cultivators, part of the Jianghu, and it was an age-old rule that the Jianghu took care of their matter, separate from mortal laws.

Ray found out later, why the man was called the Stalking Cicada. It seemed that he was a prominent shit stirrer that waited in the background for a chance before he spoke up and push himself to the front.

Despite all of his gibberish being absolute bullshit, he managed to rally the foreigners against them. Their police work had offended not just one or two, and they felt entitled not to be subjected to the laws of Urth. With the mob against them, they had a hard time arguing and could only leave with their prisoners, dissatisfied

Seth understood their mood. Bulko, Mina, Fin, Ray, and even Lyxiss were good people, who wanted to help others. Although Lyxiss was quite spunky, she had no experience in debating principles like individual freedom or cultural differences.

It also was not something he would be able to teach them, so he planned to teach them a different way to deal with these glib-tongued fiends. One that was easy to understand. At least the story explained the hostile gazes. They probably came from some of the evildoers the Party had caught in the past or were part of the mob.

The reason they had brought him to the brothel/ strip club was that the stalking Cicada was supposed to have a room there. After ordering some alcohol and snacks, they didn’t have to wait long for a shifty-looking fella to approach them.

He was neither tall nor short. Wearing dark blue robes with golden embroidery and a black hat he looked like a magician. His shady little pencil mustache didn’t help lessen the image of a con artist.

“You returned. What innocent people are you trying to detain today? Have you not realized that nobody wants you here?” he asked loudly, so everyone on the floor could hear him. Some of the people with hostile gazes even slightly rose from their chairs.

“Was my lecture not enough? Minas Mar should stop acting like a bully. You have no right to push your values onto us.” Many nods followed his words, but the party stayed silent. Lang Zung approached their table.

“I see there is a new face among you,” he noticed Seth sitting among the group in casual clothes. He bend forward, looking Seth in the eyes. The blacksmith frowned when he smelled his breath.

“Your mouth smells like the shit you talk,” Seth muttered grossed out.

“Oh ho, what a sharp tongue. Did you bring him, because you thought he could engage in a discussion with me?” Lang Zung asked arrogantly, hiding his ugly sneer behind his fan.

“Oh, I'm not here to discuss anything with you. I'm here to make something clear and teach them how to deal with people like you,” the blacksmith said leisurely, as he took a sip of liquor.

“Deal with-ME!?” he screeched the last word when a massive hand caught his throat. The gauntlets of the armor dug into the soft flesh of his neck, as flames licked across the armor, threatening to burn him. The heat easily singed his shady mustache and clothes. He tried to struggle, but he only burned his hands, trying to grasp the arm that was holding him.

“There is no room for discussions or opinions. This is Minas Mar, everything here belongs to us. The houses, the streets, the barriers, and facilities. We built it, we protect it and people pay rent for a safe space. The moment you mess with our property or our business, you will be beaten up and thrown out.”

“T-The rule of the bigger fist- Urgh! There will be someone with a bigger fist!” the choking Cicada tried to argue.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

“You still don't get it. It's Householder's Rights,” the bard whispered into his ear, before tightening his grip. When the cicada fell silent, he threw the unconscious cultivator covered in severe burns, into the middle of the room, for all the defiant watchers to see.

“This is a lesson for all of you, you are tolerated here as guests. If you fight in the streets and disrupt public life, you get banned. Keep your little feuds off our streets. I don't think I have to explicitly say that they are also banned from participating in the Pythian Games.”

After saying his bit, Seth turned away from the croaking cicada and sat back down at their table. Bulko and Ray were thoughtful, while Fin's and Lyxiss' eyes were beaming.

“Always remember, there is no use in arguing with this scum. When they enter our place, they agree to our rules. Their reasons, their beliefs, and their excuses mean nothing when they break them. If they try to argue, beat them harder.”

“” Yes!”! The elf and fairy exclaimed excitedly.

“Is this really the right way?” Bulko asked thoughtfully.

“They will say we are cruel,” Ray commented.

“So what?” Mina asked before he could. “Why should we care about their opinion? They clearly disrespect ours and harm people with their childish behavior.

“A greater person may come up with a better solution... but I don't see why we should put so much effort in. If they resist to learn, they have to stay outside,” Seth supported Mina.

“But what if we are at a disadvantage?” Bulko asked worried. Although he and Lyxiss had legendary items, they were not chosen or blessed like many of the others.

“Did you forget where you are?” Seth asked, with an obvious nod in the direction of the Guardian Tree. The whole city stood on its roots and was covered by its crown. Despite the pompous new name, it was a Hangingtree, one of the most terrifying horrors post-apocalyptic Urth gave birth to.

Bulko's eyes widened. When walking the lively streets, it was easy to forget that they were living in the shadow of a calamity, one that was on their side.