Past Sins

Death. This entire place reeks of death, was Leat's first thought as he walked the filthy streets of the New Moon District.

            Like the new moon, the lower part of the city was a place that existed but no one saw or, more accurately, didn't want to see. It was the place where the poor, criminal, and foolish wound up if they were unfortunate enough to avoid death. Such was the way of Lupra. Only the rich, the connected, or the useful were noticed and allowed to walk in the light. The rest were forgotten, tucked underground in the dark.

            And it was dark as well. Almost completely underneath the capital city, Silias, this section of the city was always shrouded in shadow, rarely seeing the light of the sun. He remembered when he learned that truth the hard way, back when he was so foolish as to think the capital city was the only one to hide away the scourge of society in shame. Back when he was willing to do anything to ensure he was not counted among them.

The hound could barely see anything beyond the glow of his lantern which wasn't saying much. He strained his ears, listening for any sounds other than the soft steps of his footpaws on the stone. Every step was deliberate, keeping his hips turned in preparation to run at a moment's notice, his free hand gripping the hilt of his sword at his side in case flight wasn't an option.

            He shouldn't be down there. Only the city guard came to the New Moon District willingly, and even that was up for debate. Even those wanting to engage in shady business dealings often met outside of the city rather than risk to come down here. Canids often went missing and the disappearances went unreported. But even knowing the dangers, he had to come. There was something almost…pure or perhaps feral about being down there. Down here his status carried little weight and a wallet bursting with coin made him more of a target rather than untouchable. Down here only the will to survive mattered, and that meant more than just having a big wallet.

            He stumbled over something on the ground. Quickly regaining his balance and unsheathing his weapon, he spun around to fend off any would try to take advantage of his clumsiness. Instead he was met with a very frail-looking wolf. The years had not been kind as his stay underground had aged him horribly. His body was frail and thin, his sagging skin proof he was once a much larger canid. A miasma of piss and alcohol clung to him, making Leat wrinkle his nose.

            Leat lowered his sword and lantern as he recognized the gangly canid. “Demrin," he said breathlessly. He almost wept so pitiful the once proud wolf looked, standing there. It was not the beautiful proud creature he once knew.

            Demrin's eyes, one blue and one green that were once full of life but now were glossy and distant, widened in surprised for a brief moment before he snorted and slumped against the wall. “Looks like madness has finally caught up to me if I'm seeing my old 'friend' again. What do you want, figment?" He picked up an empty bottle next to him and upturned it over his muzzle as if taking a drink, but he never acknowledged that nothing came out.

            “I'm not a figment of your imagination," Leat said, struggling to keep his voice even. It was too hard to look at his friend now reduced to thing that barely clung to life, so he started at the ground. “I'm real, and I'm here to help you."

            Demrin snorted again. “Help me? You think you can help me? What makes you think I want your help?"

            “Surely, you don't mean to spend of your life rotting away here? Don't you want to go back to your old life?"

            The wolf moved with a surprising speed and ferocity, seizing the front of Leat's coat. His pungent odor made the young hound's eyes burn. “If only I had the luxury of a choice!" Demrin growled, his breath fouler than his body odor. “You think the canids we sent down here had a choice? If you want to help someone so badly, why don't you go help them?"

Demrin shoved Leat away and went back to his place in the gutter. He took another drink from his empty bottle and said, “ You remember that old fox who ran that antiquities store? What did happen to that old fox?"

“Yes," Leat replied. “We ran him out of business so we could control the antiquities market. He could no longer afford his home and was forced to move here. Just recently, I tracked him down and hired him. He's even made enough to reclaim his old home."

Demrin smiled humorlessly, revealing a mouth half-full of yellowed fangs. “What's the matter? Guilty conscience?"

“That's part of it," Leat said in a somber tone. It sounded so foreign to him, letting his emotions show for once. So used to hiding away his true emotions and feelings for fear of showing weakness to his enemies, it had been a long time since his emotions felt genuine. “I love my country, but something needs to change. But I can't push for that change so long as I have played a role in her corruption."

“So that's your plan? To travel all of Lupra and make amends for the wrong you've done?"

“It's better than rotting away, wallowing in self-pity," Leat shot back.

“I deserve to rot for what I did—we both do, figment. Do you remember what we did?"

Leat's ears folded back as he held his friend's gaze. “I remember everything we did; the lies we've spread, the homes and businesses we've destroyed, the lives we've ruined. I'll remember those things for as long as I live."

The mocking, humorless smile faded. “I won't ever forget either, figment. I should've listened when you said not to do it. Because I liked her, but she spurned my advances, called me a gutless bottom-feeder, I just lost it. The first time was just business. Her father couldn't marry her off if she already lost her virtue like a cheap whore. But the second, the one where I really took my time, that was personal. I needed to teach her a lesson—"

“Enough," Leat said, kneeling down and placing a paw on his friend's shoulder, fighting back the desire to squeeze. He wasn't there to pass judgment, only to balance the scales and set things right. “We were wrong then, and I realize that now."

“Oh! Now he realizes it was wrong, Praise the gods!" the wolf raised his paws over his head in mock jubilation. He lowered his arms, his face a mask of pain and anger. “She cut her wrists after that, you know."

“Yes, I know. And her mother, overcome with grief, drank poison and took her own life."

Demrin nodded, his face grim, “We—I destroyed that family, and for what? Coin? Status? I can't get her screams out of my head. It should've been me. You told me not to do it."

Leat said nothing. As despicable as Demrin's actions were, Leat's plan wasn't much better. And while he did not play a direct role in the depraved event, He knew what Demrin planned but did nothing, and it didn't stop Leat from capitalizing on the opportunity it provided. Taking advantage of a grieving father and widower to further one's own political standing was just as disgusting.

“So, figment, are you done torturing me?" Demrin asked, his voice had lost its usual sarcastic luster. It now sounded tired and weak. “Can I sleep now?"

Leat sighed and tightened his grip on his sword. In a way, Demrin died years ago; his body just hadn't caught up yet. He swung the sword in a wide arc, taking his friend's head off with a single stroke. He stood over the corpse for a few moments, letting the reality of his actions sink in, before wiping the blade clean and returning it to its sheathe. “Yes, you can."

He turned  and started down the street the way he came. His heart felt heavier and lighter at the same time. His friend was dead, but the last of his redeeming acts was complete. Now his conscious was clear and he could begin to reform his country.