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The Calamity's Handler

"In this life my name is Nazir." He was a nameless man facing off the faceless demon. Once upon a time he had a true name, but it was long forgotten after numerous lives he'd lived in this fictional world. [Chronicle of Mora] had thousands of chapters and he had only read up to where Ravana, the rakshasa king, was resurrected, bringing about the end of the world. He had walked alongside the many main characters of the novel, and yet he could never stir the plot away from the disaster. Despondent, he was going to shave off his hair and become an ascetic monk, hoping to reach moksha in this lifetime. [Ding! Story progression advances 2%! Would you like to use one Clue Ticket to unlock a hidden secret?] Then he met a saint-like prince who died young in the book. A minor character who was only described in past tense from the memories of the heroes and heroines. "Remember me. I'll come and find you again." ---- TW: Suicide, violence, gore

Mahesa_Mara · Fantasia
Classificações insuficientes
10 Chs

Little Beggar Falguni [2]

He couldn't think clearly yet and so he blindly obeyed the beggar's request. That's the least he could do after beating the poor youth almost to death.

Sadly, this new body of his suddenly decided to remind him that it wasn't used to excessive brutality. Nazir gritted his teeth, ignoring the growing pain all over his body and slung one of the beggar's arm over his shoulder. He could hear the clattering sounds of the guards' armors, they're approaching not far from here.

He sighed.

"The guards will be here soon, you should—"

"No." The beggar cut his words stubbornly. "You're coming with me."

"...Fine. Where to..?" Nazir's voice sounds hoarse and defeated, no longer possessing the fierceness of his previous shouts.

They left the crime scene, trottering on wobbly feet, and dove deep into the puzzling labyrinth that was Antieum's wet market. They traverse through narrow spaces between the stalls, hidden behind strings of dried spices and fruits, behind porters carrying sacks of rice on their backs. The outer stalls were deserted because of their fight, but deeper the market was still crowded with sellers and shoppers.

Turn here, turn there, the beggar gave clear directions in a calm voice that Nazir found strange. It was as if the beggar didn't care for the loud shouting of guards chasing them. The guards' sound were soon drowned by the louder yell of sellers offering their goods. Some people noticed Nazir's and the beggar's awful appearance, but their screams couldn't matched the crowd as well.

"Fresh goat offals! Fresh and clean! Just a copper for a handful!"

"Clams! Fresh clams from Demavi! Salted fish from Djaram! Come, come and see!"

"TOOMAYYTOOOES! SWEET, JUICY TOMAAYTOOOES!"

Turn here, turn there, the beggar kept giving out directions calmly. Vaguely, Nazir felt like the beggar's mannerism didn't match that of a downtrodden, miserable soul a beggar should be. Instead he sounded almost wise like a sage. One unbothered by mundane life and world.

It calmed Nazir somewhat. Maybe the beggar really 'is' a sage in disguise. Nazir had seen stranger things in his past lives so he wasn't so surprised and followed the direction docilely. They dove behind a stall selling rugs when the shopkeeper was busy dealing with strong willed ammas, haggling prices viciously in half.

Then they quickly hid behind a stack of wooden boxes. He couldn't hear the guards' voice any more.

"Move that roll of rug aside—no, the other one. Yes, that one. Okay, now follow me. We'll have to crawl a bit."

They've reached the perimeter walls of the market. There was a hole at the base where the bricks had crumbled. Just big enough for dogs to crawl in and out of. Nazir didn't ask how the beggar knew about such thing and crawled behind him. It almost didn't fit him. His new body, this 'Nazir', was a healthy sized teenage boy. Scrawny but his shoulders were quite wide.

"Dislocate your shoulder," said the beggar, offering a cold hearted advice. His body was smaller and he got out easily. He was squatting beside the exit, patiently waiting while staring at the struggling Nazir with big innocent eyes, one of the eye was blackened by a terrible bruise though. The whole face was swelling with various size of lumps.

Nazir shot him an unimpressed look.

"You'll get out easier that way," the beggar continued, unfazed.

"Easy for you to say..." muttered Nazir in reply.

"With your strength? Yes."

Nazir ignored him. After a few moments of wriggling and pushing, he finally managed to slid out of the hole.

"Stop clapping your hands, beggar. Seems like you're well enough to walk on your own. Now walk."

"Yes, yes. Let's go then," replied the beggar cheerfully.

Indeed the beggar was well. Too well, in fact, like he hadn't just been beaten almost to an inch of his life. The beggar's steps were almost like skipping, but he stopped after a few meters when he realized Nazir wasn't following behind.

"Why are you just standing there? Come, the guards will find you here soon."

Nazir stared back at the beggar.

"You're safe from those thugs now."

And also from me, he thought quietly.

"Go. Leave. Better yet, leave this city altogether. It's not safe here."

It's not safe anywhere, he added ruefully to himself. No where is.

"And leave you here to die?" The beggar sounded appalled. "No, no way. Come on."

Nazir didn't reply. He also didn't swat away the beggar's hand that pulled his arm and led him away. They were in the slums behind the wet market. The roads here were narrow and muddy. Rotting smells and dilapidated shanty shacks everywhere.

"You do know if you get caught by the guards they would execute you at the square, don't you? Do you want to die so badly?" asked the beggar.

Nazir wanted to answer yes but instead he said, "I beat and strangled you. A little longer and you would've been dead."

"Yes, I know. And?"

The beggar turned around and looked at him puzzled. Nazir stared back at him in silence for a long while.

"Which mountain do you hail from?" he asked the shorter youth suddenly.

"Huh? What?"

"You're not an ordinary beggar. So tell me, sage, which mountain?"

It took a moment before the beggar burst out laughing. "You thought I'm a hermit in disguise? Hah! Haha, that's a new one. Splendid! Marvelous!"

Nazir was unmoved. Even if the beggar wasn't a sage, he was clearly not a real beggar. No beggar would use a word like 'splendid' or 'marvelous' so debonairly like he just did. That persona of his showed a glaring crack. But it wasn't Nazir's business anyway, so Nazir let it go.

"Then it seems you're just a crazy lunatic."

"That's rich coming from you," chuckled the beggar good-naturedly. "And 'crazy lunatic' is redundant. You should call me a crazy bastard instead. It's more natural, like how those thugs called you before. Or even better, you can call me crazy shithead. Or motherfucker! Son of a whore! Oh yes, that sounds lovely. You may train your swearing at me. It'd be my pleasure."

Nazir couldn't tell if the other boy was being sarcastic or if he was genuinely being so pleased from being able to say those curse words wantonly.

"A scribe in training got taught lessons in grammar and curse words from a beggar," Nazir replied flatly at the beggar's almost too cheerful cursing. "Indeed, that was rich. I've been enlightened."

The strange youth seems to have decided to drop his beggar act altogether though. His skittish hunched shoulders straightened and he seemed to stand a little taller. A serene smile appeared on his bruised face.

"Correction. A scribe in training who hit like a trained soldier..." said the beggar. Even the tone of his voice changed. The young beggar appeared like an entirely different person. "Did you think I wouldn't notice the places where you hit them? You could've crushed my windpipe too. You knew how, but your hands didn't have the strength."

Their steps were slowing.

"If only your smooth, uncalloused fingers didn't prove that you really are a scribe, I would've thought you're a mercenary. A skilled one at that."

Nazir stood still.

The other boy let his arm go.

"I'm not a spy, if that's what you're thinking," said Nazir coldly. Momentarily shocked by the bullseye prediction of the mysterious beggar. "Nor am I an assassin. And no, I am not a mind-reading rishi too. I only guessed what's going on in that little head of yours because you're slightly cocking it."

"...Still, that's very observant of you. How impressive. I've been enlightened and see the error of my ways. Thank you for the warning." The other boy said begrudgingly.

"I doubt that you do, but likewise. Thank you, I'll take your words as a compliment," grumbled Nazir back. His previous life was still affecting him. Not that he hadn't realized it, though. He started to walk towards the other youth.

"I'll play along with you as payment for your wounds. I also won't ask which lord's son you are. You want to play beggar, then I'll treat you as one." Nazir continued.

Instantly, the hunched shoulders returned, and the serene smile on the boy's face turned to a more sickly sycophantic one. The previously smooth and gentle voice felt like a daydream, so suddenly replaced by a grating, cloying, raspy one.

"Thank you, kind sir! Thank you, thank you, this humble one will never forget your kindness. Come, come this way, let this humble one show you where to clean your noble self."

It's amazing how the boy could switch his mannerism back and forth so effortlessly. It's also amazing that Nazir didn't realize it sooner.

"Drop the humble one this and that. Don't overdo it. It's annoying."

The boy struggled to fight the urge of rolling his eyes and just dejectedly nod his head low. "Yes, yes, noble sir. I won't do it again. Take pity on me, it's not often that I met a magnanimous, glorious, valorous—"

"I said... Don't overdo it." Nazir grunted gruffly.

"Right, right," the boy choked, and his real smooth voice slipped out. "What I mean is, it's not often that I can meet a friend that would play along with me like this. How about this, let's say if you're actually—hypothetically, of course—say if you're a spy or an assassin, then I as a son of a lord—hypothetically too, 'course—might be able to help you. Don't you think?"

"Listen here." Nazir stopped walking again. "One, I am not your friend. Two, stop that traitorous thought of yours. It's unbecoming, son of a lord or not. No, let me finish. Every game has rules. I didn't criticize you for this strange, shitty hobby of yours. You respect my limits, only then will I play along with you. Do I make myself clear?"

The hunched youth fidgeted for a while. "But.. I want to be frie—"

"Did I stutter?" cut Nazir heartlessly.

The other boy flinched then weakly nodded. "Okay, I understand."

"Good." Nazir shoved the boy's shoulder roughly. "Now show me the way... Bastard."

He spat out the last word and the boy's gloomy face suddenly brightened again. The pathetic mannerism returned.

"Yes, sir! This way, this way! I'll show you a good spot."

So the boy was a masochist who enjoyed being beaten and treated harshly, huh? Like Nazir thought before, he had seen far stranger things than just a mere noble with perverted taste. He was hardly surprised. Still, it unsettled him that someone high born was playing make believe this way. As if the unfortunate fate of beggars was something amusing and fun.

They were walking through a more populous area of the slums. There're people now. Downtrodden ones, forgotten ones, those who had committed crime and on the run. All kinds of people. These people only spared them a short glance before ignoring them again.

Just two bloodied scums, wasn't worth their attention. A person could drop dead in the middle of the road here and most of these people would probably just stride over the dead body. Nazir couldn't blame them. Their lives were already harsh enough, a dose of apathy and cruelty was to be expected.

The slum children were following on their trail. Calling out dirty words and throwing them pebbles, their curiosity was expressed quite savagely.

"Crazy Falguni! Lame Falguni and his lame friend!" the children shouted.

So the beggar persona was called Falguni. The boy must've pulled this sort of shit often enough that the slums children would know his name.

"Just go die, dirty Falguni! Stinky, stinky!"

"Spare me, I beg you! Aw, ack! Please, stop, it hurts!" said the fake beggar pitifully. He was curling his body to be so small, his pathetic act was so good that Nazir would've thought it was all real had they not talked so frankly moments before.

A few pebbles hit Nazir too. And although it didn't hurt that much, Nazir didn't share the same preferences with Falguni who enjoyed this kind of thing. The taller boy picked some pebbles and throw them back at some of the children.

"Scram, you little shits. Begone, before I break your necks."

The children screamed and ran away. Falguni was staring at Nazir strangely. Nazir slapped him across the cheek.

"What you looking at? Eyes to the front. Fucking bastard..."

"So savage..." Falguni muttered while rubbing his cheek, but he didn't sound annoyed. "You're even scummier than those thugs. That's a compliment, by the way. I am very impressed."

"You know, you break character too often. Make a decision. Do you want me to be trashy or do you want a proper gentleman?"

Falguni blinked at him with genuine surprise. "You can do both?"

Nazir slapped his other cheek. After that, they didn't speak again until they reached the rocky banks of Tamal River.