The condition of the people living in the slums were horrid. Dirt smeared children hunting rats and scavenging for anything useful among the piles of refuse which filled the streets. Beggars, lunatics, sickly men and women, they packed the alleyways and dwellings like sardines in a tin. A heavy stench of human sweat and waste filled the air, the tiberium smoke doing little to dissipate it. Isaac was grateful the olfactory sensors of his helmet could be disabled, and welcomed the scent of recycled air.
Strangely, another young girl called out to them as their procession continued onward. Minute by minute it was proving to be an odd day. Without stopping, Isaac spoke plainly. "It is meant to be leaking, this is a censer, child. And I assure you, it will only make us stronger." He walked past the girl, not caring to make idle conversation with children while there was much work to be done. The Confessor and his retinue did their best to stay out of sight, taking back-alleys and dark passages through the slums.
They passed several groups of urchins and thieves lying in wait, but a single look at their armor and strange weapons kept them at bay. Desperate as they were, the locals knew when to simply walk away. All the while Ezekiel and Adam continued their bickering, Isaac's three protectors remaining as quite as ghosts as they stalked through the slums. It reminded him much of Rio, when he was but a young militant fighting under the Legendary Insurgent. It was a glorious campaign to liberate the people from their GDI oppressors. Razing their administrative buildings, taking the radio stations and broadcasting the Prophet's holy message of liberty to the disenfranchised. The Grand Confessor was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of shouting. He and his retinue had wandered their way into a great market space, filled with all sorts of goods and wares. Most were simple street vendors, their merchandise spread out upon old blankets and crumbling wooden stalls. A young man stood near the center of the square, crying messages and news of the city. One message in particular piqued his interest.
"Excuse me, little brother, but what more can you tell me about this expedition being held?"
The crier turned to face Isaac, and his face grew pale at the sight of the Confessor and his entourage. In truth he was no more than a boy, perhaps twelve or thirteen years of age. Dirty blonde hair covered his head, and it seemed he'd not had a bath nor decent meal for quite some time. Swallowing and taking a deep breath, the child looked back up at the strange warrior-priest. "W-well sir, it's a trip out into the frontier. Some magician from the college is setting the whole thing up, paid me a good wage to spread the word. His name's Melqart Orestes, not sure if I'm sayin' it right though. Slayin' monsters, diggin' through dusty old buildings for dusty old pieces of pottery and books, that sort of thing. I-if you fancy some sword-work, go see him up at the staging grounds."
"I see, and where would I find the staging grounds, do forgive me I do not enter the city often."
The boy looked at him curiously for a few moments, before simply shrugging. "Just head north, past the river sir. That'll be where he is."
"Thank you, little brother. You have been most helpful. May God keep you." Without another word, Isaac turned to the right direction and headed onward, men quickly in tow. More grumbling and hissing back and forth came from the Shadow and the Saboteur.
"I don't see why we should assist some backwards occultist attempt to reclaim some petty treasure and slay wolves. I am engineer, not a hunter!"
"Oh come now, I'm sure the Confessor knows what he is doing, otherwise he wouldn't be leading us down this path. You don't doubt the Grand Confessor, do you Ezekiel?" The assassin's voice was dripping with amusement, and the Saboteur merely punched his shoulder in response. A soft chuckle rumbled from the back of Isaac's throat, before turning back to speak to his brothers.
"It is rather simple, brother Ezekiel. To show these people that we are truly here to help them, we must first ingraciate ourselves with the population and people of influence. If a man has the means to set up an endeavor of this sort, then he must have some sway in the community, or at least a part of it. What's more this provides us with an opportunity to help the people expand their borders and sleep well knowing that another few 'monsters' are gone. The funds and spoils we claim can be put towards improving life in the slums, housing the vagrants and feeding the starving. Kane has sent us here to give these people what they have been denied, what others take for granted behind safe walls and clean windows. We will work to show them that they can ascend to a better life, and that the Brotherhood is there to help them."
Not another word was spoken between them afterwards. The Grand Confessor had spoken, and his words were comforting and inspiring, leaving the brothers with a new sense of vigor as they began their crusade. Slowly but surely, they moved farther and farther northwards, hoping to find this magician before he set off into the wilds.
@Kyuubey@VitaVitaAR@Raineh Daze
