Fractured God

Based on his tone alone, Mr. Bentley could immediately tell he wasn't a child.

He quickly covered his mouth as if he had made a faux pas and used it as an opportunity to whisper to Ezekiel.

“Have any clue who these guys are? Oh dear, I'm sorry for the assumption lad.”

Unoriginally Ezekiel did the same thing as Mr. Bentley and tried to whisper to him.

“No idea. Damn, you could have used more milk growing up.”

The priest shrugged his shoulders as he walked.

“I personally find this height agreeable, though being a man your size I can see that viewpoint.”

He was surprisingly understanding.

“But what I don't find agreeable is you whispering something to that old man there. I have no idea who you are but if you give this gentleman the wrong idea about my being here, I might have to show you why kids like you should keep your mouth shut.” He said in a casual tone.

“(Ugh, one of these guys.) My bad, boss.” Ezekiel responded.

It wasn't hard to imagine who this guy was. In the years following Mr. Bentley being in charge of this place, he turned a blind eye to certain "businesses". With how non-existent the police were in this parish, he was essentially the law (for this region anyway) and so he was the man to bribe if you wanted to do something illegal but not too illegal. Sure you could make drugs and he'd inform any adventurers to keep away from the area but something like human trafficking was a big no-no. It'd definitely attract the wrong kind of attention if word got out.

Given the man didn't recognise Ezekiel, Bentley breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, it's just some business. Sorry we're not too used to this type of greeting, you know how it is, right sir?” He said as he dragged a chair over.

“Oh, of course. My men here were just a bit overzealous to show off their muscles. We are in a foreign land after all, so it doesn't hurt to make a strong first impression.”

His men pulled a table and chair over for the two while others locked the door behind Ezekiel.

Based on their looks, he wasn't too worried, but he made his way to Bentley’s side in case they were planning to do something to him.

“Ah, foreigners, yes we've seen a few of you lately. Another man interested in drugs? I have to say, I don't care what happens between you all but make sure production is the only thing going on in this parish, please. Though-”

The blonde boy sitting across the table raised his hand to stop the blathering old man.

“Hmm, while we are going to produce something, it isn't exactly a substance you may call a drug nor is it someone meant for consumption by the masses.”

“I see. I'm not quite sure I get what you're hinting at, Sir. If that truly is the case you don't need to meet with me to do your business.” He remarked, wearing his disinterest.

“Oh, no, it is something that lawbringers of this country would find disagreeable. After it involves, how do I say this… people.”

Mr. Bentley rolled his eyes and loosened his shirt.

“Tch, you gotta be shitting me.” He remarked as he brought his feet up to the table. The men inside the tavern began murmuring with some stepping forward.

“If any of you so much as touch him, I'll have Saito taking his time ripping your heads off when we return.” He said with the banality of a man choosing his order at a restaurant.

The men immediately tensed with some hiding among the crowd.

“Now Mr. Bentley, that's an understandable reaction but-”

A chair was thrown in his face and much to Ezekiel and Mr. Bentley’s surprise, the chair was stopped just above the table, inches from his face.

Daniel could only sigh at this sneak attack.

(“Damn, this guy actually seems like a pain in the ass. Even the usual bastards that show up here wouldn't be able to react to that.”) Ezekiel thought as he pulled out his knife.

“While I don't mind convincing you to work with me, I don't exactly want to use violence either. After all, the moment you think you have a chance at victory, you might try something stupid.”

He said before dropping the chair onto the centre of the table.

“I see you're not the usual scum that shows up every so often, that's for sure. Who the hell are you guys anyway?” Mr. Bentley asked.

“Just a few religious folks hoping to plant our roots in the parish.” He stated with a sly smile.

“Well, you certainly look the part but I can't say the same for your men.” Mr. Bentley commented.

“There are those among our clergy that like a nice uniform, I however believe it's unnecessary. Is our god any less likely to love us if we don't wear garments made by the hand of man?” He answered.

“I see.” He sighed. (“Who the hell are these guys? And why the hell would a religion care about trafficking? Wait a second, I think I did hear rumours about-”)

His thoughts were interrupted when the boy tapped the table.

“Now to the most important matter. I will kill the people of this parish.” He coldly stated.

Mr. Bentley raised an eyebrow and scoffed at him. “You a warmonger or something? Trying to claim the parish for your religion? Cause if you start making waves, even if I'm not the one to kill you, someone more important will.” He bluntly stated.

“Now, let me explain myself. I'm not trying to do anything of that sort. Consider it like this. Every few months or so we'll need human lives. We'll also be hiding in this parish no matter what sort of reaction we get from you today.”

“As if you could-”

“Even if you kill us, our homeland will quickly recuperate the losses and replace us within months.”