Benjo the Great? (4)
1433 Words
“Me? Enabler of evil? Don't just assume things, buster. You're making an ass out of you and me.”
“You've got quite the mouth, huh?”
I can sense Linus trying to attack Benjo while Deecuz and I are in a deadlock.
“DIEDIEIDIEDIEDIE, BENJOOOOOO!!!”
“Heisbilis.”
With the spell that grants myself a temporary boost in speed, I immediately shield Benjo from an otherwise fatal strike from Linus.
But the yellow-armored man is unfazed by my parrying.
In fact, his face displays a smug smirk as he says...
“Whoever you are, adventurer... you've just fallen into our trap.”
“What?!”
From underneath his gauntlets, Linus releases a magical net that cannot be cut by ordinary weapons.
The net covers Benjo and I in an instant, and its magical strings instantly paralyze us.
I say defiantly...
“Why you...”
Benjo is even more defiant.
“Grr! You bet you're capturing me instead of killing me because you'll send me to some cold, dark place where you'll kill me slowly, huh?!”
“Hahaha... as expected of a master manipulator of words... But know this, Benjo... Nobody loves you and nobody needs you here. Bwahahahaha!!!”
The two Anti-troll Warriors continue on laughing madly as they drag the net that holds us into some unknown corner of Forhampe, leaving the corpse behind to rot.
As for the onlookers, reactions among them are honestly mixed.
Some are dismissive, some are angry, some are amused, and others bring out their spirit of charity and respect for the dead as they wrap up the remains of Exlayns Resfor in a clean cloth and carry them on a hammock, ready to be sent to this town's only funeral house.
Fifteen minutes later...
Benjo and I are dumped into a small abandoned shack, with its only entrance and exit being a hatch door, as we are both still encumbered by the paralyzing net.
Linus Gai gives us a parting shot.
“'Do you hear the people sing'? Yeah, you feeble-minded shills should know what they are singing. Your cruel and brutal deaths, in exchange for the cruel and brutal deaths under this oppressive regime! Eye for an eye, right? Then Forhampe will go back to a time of peace where human rights are greatly respected!”
Yeah right. You yourselves are violating human rights by killing alleged shills who are also Benjo's friends. If that isn't hypocrisy, then what is?
Deecuz Duae also gives out his own.
“Now you'll die a slow and painful death as you will never escape and get the necessary food, air, and water you'll need! Because you supporters of that accursed executioner mayor don't deserve any! AHAHAHA!!!”
After they lock up and board up the shack's hatch door, their mad laughs still resonate in our ears as they leave us.
“Great. If only I hadn't been careless, I wouldn't have dragged you into my mess.”
Benjo brings out his misgivings.
“Nope, please don't say that. Adventurers are and should be used to risks to life and limb. And not just from fighting monsters in dungeons, either.”
“Oh, I'm sorry. My town... doesn't have many adventurers, and none of my friends are full-fledged ones.”
“I see.”
“Produ Platak Dagar.”
With an expertly-aimed lean of my face, I point towards my right hand.
I conjure a silver knife, its handle landing on my right hand's palm, despite the paralysis from the net still affecting my limbs.
“Whoa. You're able to summon objects?”
He curiously asks me.
“Ain't it obvious? I came up with it myself.”
“That's amazing!”
“Now please open my magical satchel and grab some Kyokyap Grass.”
“Sure.”
Despite his paralysis, he manages to open my magical satchel, which is attached to my back via my belt.
And in the compartmentalized satchel, he is able is grab the required cure for paralysis.
I instruct him...
“On the count of three, please use the Kyokyap Grass on us, and I'll s***h this net with this dagger I hold. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Walter.”
“Alright. One... two... three!”
He quickly applies the Kyokyap Grass on us; and once I feel my limbs being free from the effects of paralysis, I agilely s***h the entire net in one swing, freeing us both.
“Woohoo! We're now free!”
Benjo excitedly declares.
“But we're not out of the woods yet.”
“Oh.”
“Say, can you please tell the story of why you came to support the mayor?”
“Uh... since I trust you, then I can comfortably tell you that...”
“Go ahead. I'll be all ears while I search this shack for something useful.”
“OK.”
Once I begin to peruse the shack for something I can use to blow the door open, Benjo starts his story.
“It was three years ago. Local mayoral elections were being held at that time. The two candidates for the position were Wilagun Portanalto and Coreleia Cojuaquibredus. As you can deduce, the two were bitter rivals. Mister Portanalto anchored his campaign on his tough stance on criminality, as he was disgusted at the murders committed against wheat farmers by brigands who would loot our town every night. And Coreleia Cojuaquibredus, while she did have a not-so-bad public service record, as she used to be the head of a charitable organization, her reputation is anything but clean. When her husband, who was supposed to run for mayor and is also a respected public servant, died under mysterious circumstances a month before the election, there were rumors that she orchestrated her own husband's death.”
As I chance upon a crystal jar containing a mysterious clear liquid and determine that it is an explosive one by its almond-walnut smell, I ask him...
“But why?”
“By the way she smiles at her husband's funeral when she should be mourning, and by reports from gossip pundits that she's going out with another man! She should be disqualified for adultery and attempted mariticide! But what grinds my gears is how her close associates cover up her crimes by launching smear campaigns against supporters of Mister Portanalto like me! They always call us retards, shills, propagandists, enablers of evil, and thousands more insults! So once he won the mayoral position by a slim margin, he not just launched his anti-crime campaign, but also a secret propaganda campaign where he would directly hire people like me to defend his reputation, with a nice salary and all. But then... those two self-proclaimed 'Anti-troll Warriors' came into the picture. They both have bones to pick with us, and are now picking us off one by one! And before you ask, the constabulary has no hand in all this, because they don't want to be in hot water, of course!”
“I see.”
I still hold the jar of explosive liquid as he finishes his story.
To his story, I tell...
“You know what, Benjo? I can understand your zeal in defending the mayor. But politicians... and even kings... can't reign forever.”
“I know.”
“Once all of this is over... can you set yourself a new path in life, without latching on the shoulders of a politician or whatever?”
“I... honestly don't know what to do with my life. Sure, I have my pen...”
“Then use it. Write stories. Whether they may be happy, sad, funny, scary, whatever. As long as you can attract an audience, and the audience would be willing to part with their money to buy your books, you'll be fine.”
“For real?”
“Yes. I can even refer to you some book publishers in the capital.”
“Thanks.”
“But first, we need to get the heck outta here.”
“With that explosive liquid?”
“That... and something more.”
Non-verbally, I signal him to step aside.
I then leverage my right arm as it prepares to launch the jar from my hand.
As I toss the jar towards the hatch door...
I bring out a scroll containing Apairo, a fire spell, and toss it towards the jar.
Once the jar and scroll touch each other and the hatch door...
An impressive pyrotechnic blows off the door's lid.
Once we both know the coast's clear, we promptly escape the shack.
- Writer
