Book 3: Chapter 74: A Question

Book 3: Chapter 74: A Question

As I walked through the streets of Tropica the following morning, I marveled at the buildings. The sun was just peeking over rooftops to the east, casting its glorious rays on the new day. The entire time I’d lived in Tropica, the south-side had been riddled with squat, crudely constructed dwellings that didn’t hold a candle to the houses up north. Today, the sun’s light shone down, illuminating how much that had changed. A demarcation no longer existed, even the dodgiest of homes now boasting architecture that could win awards back on Earth.

It was a heartwarming sight, one that was only moderately ruined by the man walking beside me. Roger’s core was uncontrolled, his blade-like chi pouring out and filling the street we traversed. It was partially my fault and partially Sharon’s, me because of a question, and her because of a statement.

“Lovely day for it...” I said, pointedly not looking his way.

All I got was a grumble in return, which I supposed was better than nothing.

“I love the new place, by the way,” I tried again. “I can’t believe Sharon found decorations for it already.”

“They came with the transformation,” he ground out, still staring forward.

“Ahhh, that makes sense.”

I let a silence creep up on us as we strode toward the center of the village. My hopes that Roger would calm down were repeatedly dashed, his frustration seeming to build the closer we got. As we passed the smithy, which now had some wrought-iron decorations that were damned aesthetically pleasing, Fergus and Duncan came running out.

“Morning!” Fergus said, beaming a smile. “How are you feeling, Fischer? Mind if we tag along with—” He cut off, his eyes going wide as he entered the range of Roger’s roiling chi. “Er, now that I think about it, I left something inside...” He backed away, dragging Duncan with him.

I forced my lips into a line, not letting even a hint of my amusement show. Annoyingly, Roger felt it coming from my core anyway, his sharp chi pulsing in response.

“There you are!” a familiar voice called from ahead, poking her head around a corner. “I worried that you two might have killed each other!”

I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking if anyone could make Roger calm down, it was his wife.

Nope.

When he caught sight of her, I instinctively pressed back against his flaring aura with some of the village’s light, worried that he’d cut through a building or something. He felt my will pressing against it, paused, and took a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, his power receded. “My apologies,” he stated, not sounding at all sorry. “I find myself out of sorts this morning.”

I could have let my purifying light out completely, using it to wash away Roger’s fury and make both of us feel better, but it wasn’t time yet. Revealing it too soon would ruin Barry’s plans.

Roger’s eyes were still closed as he composed himself, so Sharon gave me a grimace and mouthed, ‘Sorry.’

In retrospect, I should have expected her arrival to make him even worse after what she said a half hour ago. Thankfully, her physical presence made Roger actively shrink his out-of-control aura, not wanting to hurt her despite the information she’d revealed to him.

I shook my head, recalling her words.

“Oh, dear,” Sharon had said as she patted his arm. “I’ve been helping Maria sneak out for weeks.”

If looks could kill, the glare he’d given me would have sliced me into small trips, put me on the longest sabiki rig ever, and cast me out to sea. Sharon had quickly departed, making up some excuse about needing to get back to Tropica and help prepare the theater while we hashed it out.

As we traversed the last few streets, I fidgeted with an object in my pocket, seeking to distract myself. It didn’t work. We rounded a corner, and Barry’s voice boomed out, carrying despite his conversational tone. “I know it may be hard to accept,” he said, “but I think Tropica’s transformation should be proof enough.”

“Not to mention your transformation, Barry,” George said, not drawing the amount of laughter I thought his joke deserved.

I stepped up to the edge of the theater and peered down, finding an absolute sea of people staring at George as he poked one of Barry’s biceps. Trent was up there too, his fireproof artifact cutting a figure almost as impressive as Barry’s. Judging by the white pallor of some of the people sitting in the stands, I guessed that they’d already learned of everything. Smattered throughout the crowd, sitting as if they were just regular citizens, were the rest of the congregation. My spirit pals and Maria were off to the side, none of the unascended having the courage to sit anywhere near spirit beasts.

It was a stark contrast to the initial meeting we’d had with the freed slaves of Gormona before they joined the ranks of the Church of... well, me.

Back then, we’d had to put on a show of force, presenting an unwavering front to convince them they should join us. This time, Barry was just laying everything out, stating the facts as they had happened. Rather than an unspoken threat, the congregation, including all my animal pals, were sitting with the rest. It was a declaration that all were equal, and that just because we were cultivators, that didn’t make us better than the regular citizens of Tropica.

But despite the calmness of the people sitting in the stands, I was under no illusion that there wouldn’t be problems. There would still be people that assumed we were all mad. Maybe they’d run off to the capital, intent on selling us out to a monarchy that no longer existed. Perhaps they’d flee, heading for distant lands in an attempt to escape the changes coming to the world. Which they were free to try, of course. Whatever Tropica had become, it was no dictatorship.

“Fisher?” Maria asked, stepping back. “What’s wrong?”

I swallowed, my mouth feeling dryer than the sand I stood atop. “I...” I shook my head, closed my eyes, and let out a slow sigh. Gathering every ounce of courage I could muster, I reached into my pocket, grabbing hold of the object I’d been fidgeting with earlier. It was cold and hard, and with a shaking hand, I removed it.

I stared into Maria’s eyes, taking in the beautiful blue color of her irises, the sun making them shine. She was everything I could ever want and more.

“Maria,” I said, dropping to one knee on the sand. “Will you marry me?”

She gasped, her eyes going wide and tears welling within them. She froze there for a long moment that felt like an eternity. Holding out her hand, she nodded, covering her mouth as a tear ran down her cheek.

“Yes,” she said, her voice trembling, and I slid the ring onto her finger.

A roar of noise erupted from my animal pals, loud enough that a regular human might have been deafened. I shot to my feet and lifted Maria by the waist, my own eyes wet with tears as I held her tight.

“I love you,” she said, sobbing.

“I love you too.”

Everyone else rejoined us, the cuddle even more fervent than before. Overwhelming emotions crashed over me like waves on the shore, and if I could have stayed in that moment forever, I would have.

“Also,” I said, unable to help myself, “your dad might want to kill me.”

“What?” she asked, cry-laughing into my shoulder. “Why?”

“Because I asked him for permission to marry you this morning.”

She shook her head. “I don’t care if he said no, Fischer. He has no say in our lives.”

“Oh, no, he totally said yes. Though he wasn’t exactly ecstatic about it...”

“What?” She leaned back, her eyes wet with joy and a confused smile lingering on her lips. “Then why would he want to kill you?”

I winced. “Because when he said it was still too soon to move in together, Sharon told him she’s been sneaking you out for weeks...”

Her laughter bubbled up like a mountain spring, as beautiful as it was delicate. “We might have to go into hiding,” she eventually said, the words coming out through fits of giggles.

“Whatever it takes.”

We stared at each other for a long moment, both reveling in our love for the other. We might have continued doing so, but a polite yet insistent hiss came from beside us.

Every head spun, turning to look at Rocky. He blew a single congratulatory bubble, ate the butt of his cigarette—which I suppose was better than littering, if a little gross—and locked his eyes on Snips. He made a complicated series of hisses and bubbles. The meaning was, unfortunately, clear.

I find myself overwhelmed with emotion, mistress, he said, spinning to face the ocean. I desire to be launched.

Sergeant Snips, either happy to oblige the request or furious at him for ruining the moment, exploded forward. Water chi flowed from every hinge in her carapace, and with a smooth swing of her claw, she flung him out to sea. It was her best throw yet, rivaling the one I’d used to banish him.

Instead of his usual squeal of surprise, he removed another cigarette from gods knew where, lit it on his carapace, and took a deep, ponderous drag, his body tumbling end-over-end out toward the horizon.

Maria intertwined her fingers with mine, leaning her head on my arm as we watched him become a mere speck of black against the rising sun.