Fractured God

A year had now passed and to Mr. Bentley’s surprise, he was still running this place. He was once again in his office reading through the letter the Adventurer's Guild had sent him.

“Once again, we haven't sent enough money yet here it says we comfortably performed within expectations…”

His mind had considered various possibilities but frankly, he didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. Without whoever or whatever had done this, this building would have been bought out by a local business.

(“I already sent a letter to that elf bastard in the capital but it seems he has no idea what this is about either.”)

He looked at the letter again and could tell it hadn't been altered in any way. Plus it wasn't as if they'd continued sending him potions if they didn't think he was doing worthwhile work.

Ezekiel soon entered his room, in black robes. To the untrained eye, they might not have seen it, but Me. Bentley could tell he had a few spots on his attire that were darker than usual thanks to blood.

“Couldn't you have changed before you came in?” The old man asked.

“Well, it's not like-”

Mr. Bentley raised his hand as Ezekiel moved to his chair.

“Change if you're going to sit down. I don't want blood staining another one of my chairs.”

Ezekiel scratched his head and took his dark cloak off, flinging it to the floor.

“No you fo-”

It fell to the floor.

“What wrong old man?”

“Pick it up and see for yourself.”

Ezekiel walked over and picked it up. It revealed a sizable stain on the wooden floor.

“Eww, was there that much blood on me? I thought it would have dried off by now."

Mr. Bentley sighed. He knew exactly who was helping the branch building to stay afloat. He didn't know in his old age that he could still turn a blind eye to such things. He assumed with old age he'd have a lot less to lose and could go “Hey I know you're the one helping me out, knock it off you brat!”. The ironic part of that was unlike his other colleagues, he now felt he had more things important to him in his life now than he was when he was younger. How many more important things or people could he have had if not for his mulling and misery caused by his injuries?

He simply sighed as he considered it.

“So who'd you kill to get fresh blood on my floor?” the old man asked.

“Huh? Oh you know this parish has a bunch of people who need to be killed so it's not that hard to pick them off whenever I need a quick payday. Honestly, some people are pretty blatant with it, I found this guy in a bar and all I had to do was lure him out back. Didn't even have magic either. I wonder what a guy like that did to get a bounty that high.” He said as he sat down.

“Taking money that didn't belong to him would be a good guess.” Mr. Bentley absentmindedly answered.

Ezekiel flinched at what he said and started shaking his head. “N-no way, the guy was probably a rapist or something. I wouldn't go after guys like that, old man, you know I pick the worst of the worst. In fact, power to the guys that steal cash from crime bosses, those guys are the worst of the worst.” He said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of something.

“(Just ignore it. This building is doing good for this parish. Besides all he's doing is killing scum anyway, it's not like he'll ever have to kill someone like that boy that lost his leg.) I see, with the Lord taking his sweet time dispatching the gua- Sorry police, that's what they're called nowadays right? With the lord of the parish being as useless as he is, I suppose a need for death becoming more popular isn't too surprising. Just make sure to take care of yourself.”

“Don't worry, none of these bastards have a thing on me!”

Six years later.

“I don't wrong you.” Mr. Bentley answered as he walked down the town street. Beside was Ezekiel, who for some reason was wearing dreadlocks.

“Yeah, as soon as I took in Tina and found out about it… I just don't know I have what it takes anymore.”

“You've been a real help lad. I suppose it's about time I gave this place up. How many people have been killed to make sure I walk into here another day, I wonder?” He asked. He looked forward to the guild building in front of him.

In the following years, Ezekiel joined the guild to see what being an adventurer was about and honestly, he didn't hate the lifestyle. And soon, for his own reasons, he decided to stop his other life and live only as an adventurer, as boring as that might seem for this parish.

But what they weren't expecting after this conversation, was a group of men in generic clothing to be inside the building. Tens of them. Bentley quickly glanced around and didn't recognise a single one.

“Friends of yours?” He asked.

Ezekiel shook his head and reached for a knife at his side.

“Hold on, we're just men looking for business partners.” One shouted from the back. The man slowly emerged from a group of taller men surrounding and the duo had to look that down to make sure what they were seeing was real.

“A child?” Mr. Bentley wondered.

“Hmm? I suppose I do look like that, so I can't exactly blame you.” He answered.

He had blonde hair and eyes that carried judgment and disdain for whatever they met with.