Heretical Fishing

Book 3: Chapter 37: Truth

George Kraken, lord of Tropica village, ran for his life.

Each turn he took, there his pursuer was, taunting him. The cruel antagonist would snarl and laugh, his predatory eyes tracking every move. Sometimes he’d do nothing at all, merely watching as George turned and fled.

No matter how many times George tried to get away, Fischer was there, always one step ahead.

“George...” came a heavenly voice.

He turned, looking for the source of the blessed sound. All he found was Fischer’s face, as tall as a building and leering down at him. He yelped and ran, wanting to be free of this place. Needing to escape. Suddenly, something clung to him. Opulent chains of bejeweled gold looped around his limbs, pulling toward the ground. He shrugged them off, but for each he removed two more appeared. His jewelry, his very symbol of wealth, was to be his downfall.

“George...” the voice called again, soft and enticing. It was Geraldine. How had he forgotten her?

Help! George tried to say, but gold coins spewed from his mouth, falling to clink against the floor. He attempted to scream but only coins came, so many that they started piling up around him. His body sunk into them, the sheer mass of them holding him still. Slow footsteps approached, unimpeded by the golden morass.

“Geeeooorge,” Fischer taunted.

The footsteps came ever closer, making a muted crunching as they crossed over the carpet of coins.

“George...” Fischer whispered, his smile mocking.

George tried to scream, tried to thrash and escape, but it was no use. The coins engulfed his head, plunging him into darkness. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He—

He sat up, taking a panicked inhalation. Instead of coins, he found soft sheets beneath his hands. He’d clutched them, and as he let go, he couldn’t help but frown. They were so soft...

“George!” Geraldine wrapped him in a hug. “Oh, dear! I was so worried! You slept most of the night away!”

She squeezed him so tight that he felt constricted, but he relished the moment anyway, soaking up every inch of her. He looked down, seeing bedding so luxurious that it rivaled any other he’d seen. When his gaze drifted to the surrounding room and the materials it was built with, his stomach fell. He would recognize them anywhere. They were within Fischer’s home.

Fischer…

That single thought made his memories come rushing back. They slammed into him, driving the air from his lungs.

He shot to his feet, heaving for air. “We have to get out of here, Geraldine.”

“Nonsense, mate!”

George’s hair stood on end. He spun slowly, finding the speaker seated in a chair on the other side of the bed. Fischer had the otter, Corporal Claws, in his lap. She pawed at the air, lost in sleep.

Next to him, Theo sat in another chair. He waved. “G’day.”

“George,” Geraldine said, gripping his hand. “It’s not what you think. We were wrong about Fischer.” She laughed, looking almost manic in her glee. “Completely wrong.”

George swallowed. “What did they do to you...?”

The mirth died on her face, and she gave him an unimpressed glare. “They didn’t do anything to me, you big goose. Just sit and listen. They’ll explain everything.”

George, still expecting a trap, glanced around the room. There was an open door that led to a tiled washroom. The other door was closed, likely the only path to freedom. Seeing that Fischer sat between him and his escape, he tried to calm himself and consider the facts.

Fischer was a cultivator, and he didn’t have a collar. George had assumed that the man was working with the king, but it was even worse than that. He’d gone rogue. They all had. George had recognized some of the faces of those hidden within the cloud of sand earlier. One was Theo, the crown auditor. Others were cultivators he’d seen years ago in the capital, and not one of them had a collar around their neck.

Poseidon’s salted backwash, he thought. There are hundreds of spirit beasts if you count the Buzzy Boys, all of which appear to follow Fischer.

The thought made any chance of escape seem fruitless. No wonder Geraldine was going along with whatever they said.

“George.” Geraldine patted the bed. “Sit.”

Knowing he had no hope of getting her out while Fischer was present, George decided it was best to play along for now. He sat and waited for them to speak.

“So...” Fischer said after a long moment. “Geraldine told me a pretty funny story while you were out. I was hoping to clear some things up for you.”

Geraldine shook her head, smiling at George. “You won’t believe it...”

Was that code? Was she telling him not to believe it?

Fischer cleared his throat. “I suppose I should start at the beginning. I’m not from the capital, and I’m not an auditor.”

George snorted, finding it hard to indulge such a blatant lie. “Then how did you come across a coin of the ancients and give it to me when you arrived in Tropica?”

“Easy. The System gave it to me.”

“Riiight. The System.”

“Exactly.” Fischer nodded. “I came to you because I wanted to buy some land to fish from, and I used the only currency I had. I worked out after our first interaction that it was worth way more than I’d thought.”

“Let’s assume that’s true. If you didn’t know what it was worth, why did you warn me not to spend it?”

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“I’m guessing I said something along the lines of, ‘don’t spend it all at once’? That’s an idiom where I’m from. It was a joke, referencing the fact that I only gave you a single coin.” Fischer shrugged. “A coincidence—a pretty funny one if you ask me.”

“Your house, then?”

“System made it.”

“The ring you brought to me?”

“The one you threw out in an attempt to hide your embezzlement? Don’t give me that look, mate. Geraldine told me about your sordid past.”

“Okay, then how did you come to possess it if you weren’t having me stalked?”

“Easy. I found it in the ocean.”

“You found it in the ocean? The ocean is very large, Fischer. I find that hard to believe.”

“Yeah, well, the ocean might be vast, but the bay isn’t. You basically threw the box of ill-gotten goods on top of Sergeant Snips. That one’s on you.”

George blinked. “You’re telling me that I just happened to throw it on top of her? You didn’t have one of those bees following me?”

“Yep. That’s exactly what I’m telling you. The Buzzy Boys didn’t even exist yet, and none of my other pals were tailing you.”

George chewed his cheek. He couldn’t say why, but he didn’t think Fischer was lying. Not blatantly, anyway. Geraldine squeezed his hand, and when he looked her way, she nodded back, encouraging him. It had the opposite effect. He pushed his easy acceptance away, knowing it was up to him to keep his beautiful wife safe from harm. George took a slow breath, focusing his thoughts.

“If all of this is true, how do you explain Theo, a crown auditor, being here? How do you explain him reporting back to you after he interrogated me?” George narrowed his gaze on Theo. “I thought you were going to chew him out for fishing, but then you showed him your notes, and both of you laughed, no doubt happy with your treachery.”

Fischer and Theo looked at each other, then cackled. Geraldine laughed too. He gave her a quizzical look, not understanding why she found humor in their misfortune.

“Snips!” Fischer yelled. “We need you!”

A door was thrown open and frenzied scuttling rang out, growing louder as the creature approached. Sergeant Snips slid into the room at impossible speed, her many feet scrabbling to find purchase on the wooden floor. She performed a little hop, redirecting herself with jets of what looked like blue liquid. Fischer plucked her from the air, smiling as she blew happy little bubbles.

“We need the picture again, Snips.”

She nodded, reached under her carapace, and removed a folded bit of paper. More delicate than two giant claws had any right being, she unfolded and held it out to show George. It was a sketch of a man fishing by a river. Though somewhat rushed, he could easily make out the trees, leaves, and every other minor detail.

George frowned at it. “That’s a lovely drawing, especially considering it was done without opposable thumbs, but I don’t see how that answers the questions.”

Geraldine giggled, covering her mouth. “These were the ‘notes’ he shared with Fischer, dear. Theo saw him fishing, and to show that he also enjoyed the pastime—as heretical as it may be—Theo showed him the sketch he’d just completed. The same sketch he drew while talking to us.”

George leaned back, taking that in. “You were drawing? While determining our fate…?”

Theo grimaced. “People feel more pressured if they think you’re recording their words. I was a little bored to be honest, and there’s only so many fake notes you can take before you start to detest the whole mummers’ show. Still, it’s effective, so I drew what I’d rather be doing.”

George recalled the panic—the fear for his life—that he had been experiencing at the time. “Bored…? You were bored?”

“Afraid so. That interrogation was pretty standard stuff. You think you’re the first noble to siphon funds from the commoners?” Theo shook his head. “I’ve never found a village without at least some corruption.”

George furrowed his brow. “It still doesn’t make sense. You, a crown auditor, like fishing? How did you end up here? How are there cultivators from the capital, and why aren’t they wearing collars?”

“Woah, George.” Fischer held his hands up. “One question at a time, mate.”

“We can probably answer all of those with our own question, though,” Theo said, tossing his head side to side. He leaned forward, his eyes growing fierce. “Do you know what a traveler is, George?”

“Okay, now I know you’re lying.” George clenched his jaw, watching them intently. “You aren’t going to fool me with fairytales.”

“Think about it, dear,” Geraldine said. “It is hard to believe at first, yes, but doesn’t that explain all our assumptions?” She started listing them off on her fingers. “The ancient coins. His odd manner of speaking. His lack of propriety.”

“Okay, ouch,” Fischer interrupted.

“You know what I mean,” she replied, then resumed listing evidence. “His disinterest in passiona and willingness to share it with the commoners. The fact that he has caused the awakening of multiple spirit beasts and somehow commands their obedience.”

“They’re more like friends, really,” Fischer corrected. “Not my subjects.”

Geraldine gave him a flat look. “You’re not helping.”

“Just being honest.” He rubbed the top of Sergeant Snips’s head, and the crab leaned into it, clearly luxuriating in his touch. “I won’t pretend to be something I’m not.”

“That is how I ended up here,” Theo replied. “Fischer made some hooks for me last time I was here. Because of that, the leader of Gormona’s fishing club deduced that Fischer was a traveler. We came here to create a church around him, but we kind of got beaten to the punch. Someone had already started the Church of Fischer.”

George had nothing to say to that. He looked back and forth between them, not seeing any hint of trickery.

“Is that my queue?” someone asked, their footsteps approaching.

Not knowing who to expect, George was nonetheless surprised. “... you?”

“Afraid so, George,” Barry replied, giving him a sheepish smile. “I realized what Fischer was pretty early on.”

George’s gaze went distant as he considered everything he’d just learned. As unbelievable as it was, it made sense. Still, he sought to find holes in their lies. For Geraldine’s sake.

Picking his next line of questioning, he nodded to himself. “You still haven’t explained why there are so many uncollared cultivators from Gormona here.” He paused, imagining the havoc they could unleash. “There had to be at least five of them.”

“Five...?” Fischer winced. “Mate...”

Geraldine squeezed his shoulder and gave him a similar expression.

“What?” he asked. “What’s that look for?”

“Everyone there was a cultivator,” Fischer replied. “All the faces you didn’t recognize? Cultivators. We gained every single slave from Gormona. Well, the ones that we didn’t have to lock up anyway, but that’s a different story.”

“... what?”

“Yeah, we kind of led an assault on the capital and freed them all. It was a whole thing.”

“You what?”

“I was just as surprised as you are when they told me the plan, mate. It was a pretty gnarly endeavor, especially considering Tom Osnan Sr. and the king were both hidden cultivators. Pretty powerful, those blokes.” Fischer gave a predatory grin. “Nowhere near powerful enough, though. We steamrolled them, freed the cultivators, and stole all of their artifacts. Last I saw of the king, he was shot from the castle and through a mountain, completely starkers.”

George’s mouth had gone dry. “... starkers?” he asked, suspecting it to be the name of some barbaric torture method.

“Yeah, you know. Starkers. Naked as the day he was born. Lacking any pants. Airing his meat and potatoes, if you catch my drift.”

George leaned forward, staring into Fischer’s clearly amused eyes for a long moment. “You’re serious, aren’t you…?”

“Serious as a Queensland summer, mate.”

George, feeling a weight fall away from his awareness that he hadn’t even known was there, glanced around the room. Though everyone smiled at him, there was no hint of deception. They truly meant the words that they were saying.

He might have assumed they’d been poisoned by spoiled food and were hallucinating or temporarily insane, if not for one simple fact. It all made sense. It explained all the unexplainable occurrences that had been happening of late. And it explained the changes within him since he and Geraldine had started following house Kraken’s manual.

Something bubbled up within George, and rather than push it aside, he let it roll out into the world.

George laughed. He really laughed. With tears making his vision swim, he pulled Geraldine into a hug.

Everything was going to be okay.

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