“Good day, captain!” 

“Pretty day, isn’t it?” 

“How are the kids, Captain Fisher?” 

It seems that there was a person who spoke out to Fisher on every street as he walked his assigned patrol route. With his varying emotional state locked into a temporary hold, he greeted those who talked to him with a smile and a quaint reply. The hideous sun was roaring alive, and it wasn’t even noon. The cloudless skies did little to reduce the brutal heat.  

When Fisher walked came to a crossroad and turned left, he saw a little old lady relaxing on a wooden chair under the safety of a wooden gazebo. Years of weather had stripped it of its brown paint, giving it plenty of blemishes that almost matched the old woman’s face. But contrary to her less-than-stellar looks, this woman was kind. She almost acted like a communal grandmother for the children on her street.

“Hey, Fisher Boy! When are you an’ that wife of your gonna have another daughter?” she said, waving an energetic left hand. Her right palm grasped a cup full of refreshing ice water.  

“Haha, that’s a good one, ma’am. Marissa and I haven’t decided if we want another child. It’s kinda dangerous, isn’t it? The world I mean,” Fisher replied back, taking cover under the woman’s gazebo. Stepping into the shade, it felt like the temperature dropped 15 degrees.  

“Aw, it ain’t that bad. Here, take this and wipe yourself down. You’re sweatier than a pig in mud.” The woman produced a napkin from the bag sitting beside her and handed it to the sweaty captain. He took it with a thanks and wiped his moist face. “Back in my day, we had fights, murders, robberies. We pretty much had everything that today’s folks would find insane. You kids got it lucky. The world’s pretty peaceful.” The woman reached back into her bag and pulled out an orange from a small section on the side. It seemed she had food and towels at the ready. Perhaps she had water or other refreshments stored inside? She was this street’s grandmother, so it wouldn’t be that hard to believe. And distance wasn’t a problem. The gazebo she sat under was located not even ten meters from her house.  

Is it peaceful? Can you say that after knowing…  

Fisher softly grunted, then started to speak right as the old woman yanked the sweat-filled towel out of his hands. She stashed it in her bag's second compartment. “It might be a bit safer, but it also might not be. You can't exactly predict what dangers, blessings, or boons will arrive when the day changes.” 

“Pssh! Boy, you’re way too young to be spitting out words like that!” barked the woman. She then laughed and slapped her chair’s arm. “You should be shootin’ out more kids!” 

Fisher didn’t have the strongest feelings towards that elderly woman. The few scars going down her face probably meant she was a rough-and-tumble fighter back in the day, and a part of that could still be seen. But it also wasn’t as if Fisher hated her. It was always an experience whenever he and her crossed paths.  

As Captain of the Guard, he had to defend all of Canary’s citizens, even the ones he despised. Being rude to them wasn’t permitted at all.  

“I guess it wouldn’t be the worst thing to have a son. Even a third daughter would be a blessing, but… Maybe that has to wait a bit. A least until Mari and Meri have a few more years under their belt. But I need to get back to my patrol. Thanks for the towel, granny.” Fisher waited to see if the woman would respond, but she only nodded because her attention was stolen away by a few children who ran to greet her. He watched a few more seconds, then the man in the black armor stepped out into the dry, hot sun and continued his patrol.  

It didn’t take long at all for Fisher’s path to lead him to a particular place. The nearby indicator said Buncombe Street. With that out of the way, he spotted his destination. Moments later, Fisher walked up the wooden steps to a wooden door. Attached to said door was a newly built church out of cedar. Standing just a story tall, Fisher had to admit the craftsmanship was spectacular. The white paint was thick and stubborn, meaning it would take more than wind or rain to strip it away. The traditional stained-glass windows were present, but the building only had two. One was on the front door, which was so opaque that it was impossible to see through it. The second was above the door frame, located about a meter up.

Neither of the two was of any specific design, and they weren’t meant to represent any special decree. Dupla to donuts, the priest who worked here had likely their say in the design. If that was the case, the only one who knew the truth behind it would be them. 

Black iron was carefully slotted into the wood and crudely snaked up the corner posts, eventually reaching the very tip-top and combining into one. At first glance, it just looked like a design only for show. It could have been a logo, but did it belong to the church or the company that built the place? On that thought, what if it was there for structure. If looked at from a certain point of view, the black bars could almost act as the church’s exoskeleton if it suddenly grew legs and walked away.  

Like the stained-glass windows, the snaking iron rods were something that only made sense to the one in charge.  

I guess it doesn’t matter. A symbol is a symbol, and a church is a church. A walking church? What a dumb idea… 

A raised hand and five knocks later, the ground started to lightly rumble, but it wasn’t enough to knock the experienced soldier off balance. And he didn’t go for his sword either because there was no threat. But the same couldn’t be said for the surprised look on his face when the door opened.  

His mind had prepared him for a meeting with a Human.  

But what Fisher was currently staring up at was the furthest thing from a Human. The bestial-like man had a head like an alligator and the tail of one to boot. His face was uncovered, showing off a snarling teeth-filled smile that somehow contained no trace of unpleasantness. Two black eyes stared at Fisher as if they wanted to examine his very soul. The Kobold’s body was covered from the neck down by a white robe made of thick cloth. It disguised his toned, bulging muscles were covered by a layer of sapphire-colored scales. In fact, if Fisher didn’t know better, he might’ve considered the ‘thing’ in front of him to be a walking, talking, uncut gemstone. Perhaps of the gemstone race, if such a people actually existed?

“Ahhh, if it isn’t Fisher Jin, the Captain of the Guard…” pleasantly growled the Kobold. He was so thick he took up the doorway, so he stepped backwards to allow for a bit of breathing room between the two men. The floor creaked underneath his sheer girth, but not a single plank of wood gave way. That probably meant the construction company created the church with care, choosing not to cut corners to save a bit of dupla.  

Fisher took the Kobold’s backwards advance as an invitation and walked in. “So you’ve heard about me?” he asked as his eyes had to adjust to the stark difference in lighting. The sun nearly dwarfed any other source of illumination. The church itself was fully illuminated, by candles and torches and a few lanterns here and there, but their flames were like frozen chunks of obsidian. For a brief second, there was just total darkness, like the void of a shadow. That was why Fisher didn’t see the windows on the left and right walls. A thick black curtain acted as a sunshade to lower the temperature, which melded everything together.  

For what it was worth, Fisher absolutely hated that darkness. He despised it, scowled at it, wanted to crush it away like a giant playing with a toy meant for children. Even as strong as Fisher was, the captain couldn’t train his eyes to adjust any faster. He just had to stand there, waiting for the light to flow back into his retinas while casually making small conversation. 

“Oh, yes, I have. Fisher Jin, the devilish trainer and captain of the Canary city guard,” the Kobold said, raising a finger to emphasize the ‘captain’ portion of his sentence. “They say you work your men to the bone to toughen them up, then send them to fight a juncea in mortal combat as a final test. They also say that when your trainee dies— stabbed through the chest and eviscerated open like cattle—that you do nothing but watch. On top of that, the rumors say your penchant for justice is second to none—not even the Divine Beings could come close to your desire for a fair and just world… Have I got it wrong?” The Kobold spoke heavy sentences. Even if he didn’t mean it, every word cut Fisher like a hunter slitting the throat of a dying buck.  

Fisher did not know what strength he tapped into to prevent the emotion from flooding his face, but he wished he had it more often. If not for the sake of his children, by standing tall and looking heroic, then for himself.  

“Ahh, my apologies, Fisher Jin. I must admit that I am only repeating what I have heard on my strolls around town. We have never met, so I dare not presume to know everything about you from forlorn rumors and untrustworthy whispers. I am a Kobold who trusts in the sounds I hear, the sights I see, and the scents I smell.” The Kobold shut the door with the carefulness of handling a child. Fisher walked forward, taking in the church. There were two sections of pews located on either side. Each one stretched back about six seats.  

Fisher estimated that maybe 40 people and the priest could comfortably fit inside without issue. The wooden floors still had a sparkly sheen. Though there was no doubt, a hideous world of grime and filth awaited them in the near future. Of course, that all depended on the Kobold’s cleanliness. The altar at the far back was the very definition of frugality in that it was just a table that could be bought anywhere. It was the same with the pair of candles placed on it. Their wicks faintly radiated the scent of oil. They weren’t alit with flame, but that was the fate awaiting them. The last thing of note Fisher spotted was a confession booth situated in the far back. It wasn’t hiding, but it also wasn’t front and center.  

Fisher turned back to the Kobold, who started to speak.  

“May I ask the reason for your visit?” he growled in a way only Kobolds could.  

“Do you know a man named Jeri? What about a woman called Sea? If what I learned was correct, then—” 

“Ahhh… Sea and Jeri, you say? Yes, I do know them. It really is an awful thing, you know. I never thought they had it in them to turn on their own citizens. May their victims find peace in this turbulent time.” The Kobold clapped his hands together. The sound of scales smacking scales echoed out in the lonesome building. “Might I ask what punishment they will receive?” 

Fisher held up a cautious hand. “Five years in prison, but their victims didn’t die. They’re alive, well, and no worse for wear. But let's change topics away from their punishment.” 

“I agree. It is not right to speak of such a thing while in the place of worship. Ah, if I may ask this, though. Why do you think they did what they did? I have not known them long, but I found Jeri to be full of wisdom. Sea was a bundle of energy, who really seemed to give it her all when it came to praying and worshipping. But I do not regret getting to know them because my church is open to all who need it. My arms will be open to take in the masses, and it is through me that I will help them get the help they need.” The priest spun around in a tight circle, his arms spread as wide as they could, probably to dramatically emphasize his point. The sleeves of his robe caught on to the wind, pulling back to reveal shiny, blue arms that sparkled in the candle and torchlight. 

“Ah, now that you say it,” Fisher spoke. “I mean no disrespect, but it is rare to see someone like you. A Kobold who actively wishes to spread the church’s gospel to the point where you have your own place of worship.” 

The alligator-like Kobold grinned and laughed from his belly. “Wahahaha!!!” With his mouth open, Fisher saw just how many sharp teeth he had flooding his mouth. With the muscles in his jaw, the chuckling beast could definitely snap a lesser man in half with a single bite. “I have received that question nearly forty and five times since I became a priest. The church itself is a wonderful idea. It has an unfathomable amount of resources. And I, as a Kobold, do not wish to journey down the lustful path of war that many of my brothers and sisters are drawn towards. I desire peace and tranquility above all else, and I wish to help those who are less fortunate than others.” 

“You still chose to join, even after hearing the rumors?” Fisher asked.

“That I did. I know full well of the nasty rumors swirling around my faith. And before you ask, I acknowledge how absurd the rules can be regarding ownership of Human and Demi-Human slaves. Just because I am of the faith does not mean I agree with what is and isn’t permitted. My desire to help the men and women, Humans and Demi-Humans, of the world goes beyond that. That is why I did what I did when I nursed a little girl with a sprained ankle back to full health.”

“You know you need a license to do that, right? A priest breaking that rule is—” 

“That is if you use skills. Ice, bandages, and ointment are readily available items. Because of that, I found no need to charge that little Singi, and I healed her for free. Should anyone has the need to arrest me, then I will gladly live out my punishment because I will not be silenced for what I believe in.” 

Fisher was amazed and confused at the priest’s words. “In that case, why not become a traveling doctor? I don’t see why you had to join the church to accomplish your goals.” 

“Did I not make that clear? My apologies. I joined because of the mass amount of resources available to those who rise in the ranks. I, myself, have finally acquired a church. Though I am not entirely independent in what I can do, this is a tectonic first step on the spiraling path towards my goal. Do you not think it is a noble goal, o’ captain of justice?” asked the priest. His long tongue licked his teeth.  

The captain and priest continued their somewhat cryptic conversation about faith and rules and healing and obligations. Somewhere along the way, the priest mentioned a trip he and his flock of believers took to the primary church, which was located near the noble district. According to the sparkly blue Kobold, the bishop who ran it was in charge of every church in southeastern Lando. That information struck a chord in Fisher’s mind. When he pressed the topic, the response he received was nothing out of the ordinary.  

“As a property-holding priest with a new flock to protect and lead, I was ordered to travel to the main church to introduce myself and receive orders, tasks, goals, and assistance from the bishop in charge. Nothing out the ordinary happened, and our trip ended with us returning to here without incident.” The Kobold told it how it was, not missing anything in his rather excellent recollection of an event that happened a few weeks prior.  

A few minutes later, the conversation had shifted yet again to the priest’s life story. He told a patient Fisher the story of how he was left bedridden after a volatile bout with a deadly disease. “My arms were growing tiny, or so it seemed. My legs couldn’t support my weight, and even my chest started to shrink. It was like I had started to age backwards once I reached the age of two, but only my skin was affected. It was pressing against my bones, lungs, and muscles, constricting them. If I tried to move my arm, it would have to tear away from my scale-covered body to break free. Whatever I had wasn’t contagious because it never spread to my family, but I was breathing on borrowed time. Even now, I know not what that disease was. The memories of it are hazy, like trying to see through a fog of crystalized smoke. Yet, as you can see, I did not perish from my disease.  

“A wandering doctor was making his way across the world, but he moonlighted as a priest belonging to the religion I now practice. His travels eventually led him to my village. After feeding him, my family begged him to look at least take a look at me. I don’t remember his features, but he had the strictest voice I had ever heard in my years of living. Each sentence was accompanied by an expletive, but I cannot doubt his technique. In just a few days, with assistance of herbs and ingredients nearby, my awful ailment had all but disappeared.  

“I’m sure you noticed just how blue my scales are. The reason behind that is that my body had regained its original shape before the reverse aging, and my body went through puberty a second time. For every year I live, my body grows double that. I have only been in this world for six rotations of the planet around the sun, but my body does not reflect that.” 

“And I assume that doctor-slash-priest started you towards this path?” Fisher asked. He listened with careful intent. He had seen a lot during his violent travels, but not once had he heard of a disease that ages people backwards. Of course, that was if what this priest said was the truth. Would such a disease be so out of reality that it fell into fantasy and fiction? A year ago, Fisher doubted the physical manifestation of a Goddess through the body of an amnesiac girl would be possible, but here he was. He was personally intertwined with her via the deal to fund the orphanage he had suggested, which was something else he didn’t think possible.  

Because of those facts, Fisher concluded that such a disease was probably authentic.

 “Yes, that is correct,” the priest growled with a smile, reflecting on how survival. “He did not have to do it, for I was a young Kobold. He was not kin to me, nor was he a companion of a family member. They knew him not, but he still found it necessary to save the life of a Kobold like me. My family was supportive when I announced my life plan, which assured me that I was making the correct choice. My path to get here was rocky, and failure became synonymous with my name—” 

“But here you are, proof that your desire for selflessness and healing has rewarded you with a stepping stone to reach your final goal.” 

“Wahahaha!!! Captain, you are correct. Between learning my words and letters and begging for a chance to work with an apothecary, I devoted everything to medicine. During my breaks, I found a priest who would teach me what he knew. Other Kobolds ostracized me for my wanting of material knowledge more than war-acquired treasures, but their thoughts bothered me not. Everyone has their own path in this world. Mine just so happened to be the road less traveled by my kin. And now, I have been blessed by having a church all to myself. It will be a challenge to run this place by myself while devoting myself to my healing, but I welcome it. Hmm… I should see if I can hire any nuns or other priests.” The Kobold went off on a tangent near the end, but he got his point across. His large eyes stared at the captain in the black armor.  

“I see… Well, priest, it has been good talking to you. I still have questions, but it is what it is,” Fisher said, leaning up. He had been resting against the pew’s backrest. The captain started to walk towards the door, bypassing the sapphire Kobold, who had his massive arms crossed. He stayed quiet until the captain turned the door handle.  

“It is the same for me, captain. Now that we have shared words, it feels as if I am more familiar with what and who you are. I am happy to help all who need it. Should you know someone who fits that description, please send them my way. Ah, that also includes you, of course. My confession booth in the corner over there is open for all with no appointment needed.” It was an innocent enough goodbye, but the last sentence forced Fisher to take a pause. The handle in his hand even stopped mid-twist, adding to the sudden stillness.  

“…” Without saying anything, the captain completed his hand movement and pushed open the door. The sudden light from a virgin sky blinded him, but he advanced without pause. It wasn’t until the door shut behind him that he realized he had been holding his breath. Captured air escaped through his nostrils and slightly opened mouth. Before he knew it, Fisher had started walking, moving one leg in front of the other.  

He did take one last look at the church growing smaller behind him. Buncombe street was small and narrow, but it was pleasant and easy on the eyes. Verdant green grass bloomed in the church’s front yard. The stone walkway Fisher had walked on looked like floating platforms in a sea of emerald. The other buildings on the street were either small shops or residential homes, though both were often owned by the elderly.  

So he had the church built next to a bunch of old people? Seems thoughtful enough, I guess. Maybe he’s one of the good priests after all… Still, I didn’t sense any hostility from him.  

Fisher walked into a nearby café that just a few short buildings down from the church.  

 It was quaint and comfy with a ‘home-sweet-home’ type of feeling. More accurately, it looked, felt, and smelled like a loving grandmother's house would be. And that was because it was a café and home combined, with the shop occupying the first floor and home the second. Fisher bought a few cups of water from the shop owner with a smile. She recognized him and threw in a bonus cookie, which he took with a gracious thanks. He took his cups of water and treat to a table and drank and ate while thinking about things.  

Whatever happened to Jeri and Sea didn’t come from here… It’s been a while since my last battle, but my instincts are still as sharp as ever. That’s my last line of defense, and it’s invaluable to how I’ve survived thus far.  

Still, this feeling… It feels like everything that happened is a prelude to something else… Can I assume Jeri and Sea are pawns in something? Why would the one behind it risk their plan by involving the guards? Shit, this couldn’t be a final revenge plan by Sakdu, could it? It only makes sense… If not, why else would something like this happen? No, I can’t just jump to conclusions…  

After Fisher quenched his thirst, satisfied a non-existent hunger, and filed away the information he had learned in his mind, he walked out of that little café and started a trek towards the main church. As always, he had to keep a proper facet, one that befitted a man of his position. That was truer than ever, especially considering that only he knew what really went down at Arcton and the reason why so many evacuated towards Canary. It wasn’t as big of a deal because the governor swiftly took care of it, but the first few days were full of tense stress. Only days had passed since then, so outwardly, he couldn’t appear so relaxed. At the same time, he couldn’t look so stressed out.  

He had to walk a fine balance, fully throwing away his internal bias to be whatever Canary needed him to be in regards to what was currently happening. Luckily for him, Fisher had practiced doing that same thing during the last few months when Arnold, his childhood friend, was alive. He had to keep up a facet of shrill, twisted kind of ‘justice’ then. Fisher felt a shudder crawl up his spine even thinking about it. But Arnold was dead, and he had been dead for over a month now. Fisher didn’t have to worry about him anymore, and now could be more like the man he wanted to be after coming to terms with his twisted idea of revenge. 

Still… Marissa… Mari… Meri… Fisher thought of his family, and only his family, as he traversed the booming streets of Canary to reach the main church.