Rap, rap, rap
I knocked three times to either confirm or deny the status of the post office's operation. The building wasn't much of a building, but a rather large stand nestled in between buildings. My foot patted against the ground as I held the given objects in my hand. I still had the sack of Katshinese currency and the address to the post office.
I suddenly heard muffled sounds behind the wooden shades, almost like talking and clamoring. It came from a deep voice, but the voice was gruff, reminiscent of a pirate or crook with a life of adventure and misdemeanors. The wooden shades rolled up loudly, allowing me a look inside the post office, or what appeared to be one.
The room was dimly lit by a singular carbide lamp, allowing anyone to read the given letters and addresses which were piled high in the corner. The other end of the post-office was neater in appearance, with a simple table and chair set more fit for a high-established family than a regular employee. My gaze must have remained on it longer than it should have, as the gruff man snapped his fingers in my face to get my attention.
"No staring, you gonna steal my stuff?" He crossed his muscular arms over his chest.
I shook my head, taking a step back. "No, I'm not. I just came here hoping you could help me find someone."
"Find someone, eh? Good luck with that buddy, this entire kingdom is your little sand-pit if you wanna look for someone."
He chuckled deeply, his face flushing as he rested his hand into his fist. "It only took me a single night here to find a good enough woman who'd accept my payment for a one-night-stand. Unfortunately, she didn't have any sort of protection—"
He cut himself short in the middle of his ramble, looking me up and down, remembering I was an underage individual. The post-offices main operative hoarsely laughed, unbuttoning their top button and fanning themself, trying to deter the embarrassment.
I ignored their previous words, looking past him and into the small, cramped space. "So... it's just you running the post-office here?"
"The only one that's open, yep." The owner smiled, revealing his rotten teeth.
"Strange." I looked around the street. The buildings around this stand towered multiple stories in height and looked a lot fancier than this small stand—the stand looked awfully out of place in contrast to the ornate and elaborate buildings.
Shoving this detail aside, I scoffed. "A new friend of mine recommended I bring myself here?"
"Who exactly? I have too many friends," The man gruffly replied.
"Are you familiar with a... Kael Cavendish?"
"Kael? The loony red-haired man?"
That was all the detail I needed. I nodded my head and leaned on the side of the post office, sighing. "Yes. Anyways, I'm looking for a young girl, golden hair, freckles, and looking for her lost dog. Where does she live?"
"Why a girl?" The man arched an eyebrow, looking at me with palpable speculation.
I sighed, a little annoyance filling my body. "She lost her dog and we couldn't find it. So I'm paying her back with these."
I tossed the sack into the man's hands. He gazed at the small pouch for a moment before opening it, a sense of excitement coursing through him as he smiled almost vulgarly.
"Katshinease Pounds? What are you, a prostitute?"
I only blinked in response, huffing. "I'm not a creep."
"You're looking for a young girl, only other people like that are creeps?" The man tossed me back my coins.
"I-it's not like that. I just want to give her my coins and apologize because I couldn't find her dog."
The owner of the post-office fell silent for a second before chuckling deeply, leaning in closer so his lips brushed the hairs of my ears. "Or because you couldn't save it?"
"W-what?" My body reacted on its own, habitually moving backwards. I felt my blood run cold.
"I'm not a ghost, y'dummy. Did your mother give you her rum or something?" The gruff-looking man leaned forward, his expression softening slightly.
"How the hell did you know about that?" I sputtered out, my face paling.
The corners of my eyes burned slightly, and my ears began to ring. My legs buckled underneath me as I collapsed to my knees, feeling the blood gradually rush from my brain. I could faintly hear the sound of the door opening, and the man rushing out and scooping me up into his arms, rushing me inside. Luckily, I managed to stay conscious for the most part.
"You're chilling like a block of ice." They reached into an overhead cabinet, taking out a leather patch.
In the next moment, they flicked a knob, activating the furnace in the corner used to burn old letters or junk mail. With a pair of metallic tongs, they picked up the leather pouch and held it over the fire for a few seconds before bringing it to my forehead. It didn't burn my skin or cause pain, but instead, simply decided to heat and raise my body temperature.
"W-what was that?" I asked under my breath.
I had almost passed out again, most likely out of stress and fear. The man hadn't mentioned killing the girl's dog in any way after that, which made me question if the event was even real or not. Was my mind playing tricks on me?
"You almost fainted like a noble out there. Unfortunately for you, I don't have any pastries or tea to help you recover," The owner replied with a little mock in his tone. I could tell it wasn't directed at me, but rather the opulent lifestyle and habits of the upper class.
"Anyways, Kael sent you, correct?"
I nodded weakly, my body gradually heating back up. Seeing this reminder, they turned back to their work, shuffling through countless documents.
"Every year the government here requires its citizens to take a legal practice exam to see if they've been raising their children right. Because of this, I'm in charge of mailing a few of em' directly to the higher ups."
His tongue stuck out in focus as he dug and dug, looking over countless names and identities, which came accompanied by profile photos of the given individuals. Small straps of leather were tied to the sheets, with their hair, eye, and skin color coordinated with the color of the fabric. I couldn't help but steal a few glances from where I was sitting, looking at a few of the figures with subtle interest.
"Maybe I'll find you in here; you're not the first boy with horns to come paths with this kingdom."
Hearing this, I felt an instant wave of curiosity. Clearing my throat, I couldn't help but voice my wanting to learn more about this person.
The man paused for a moment, looking back at me. His eyes softened slightly as he frowned. "His name was Bennet. He too had horns on his head, black like yours. When he came here about a decade ago, everyone was terrified of him and wanted him dead. So, one day whilst he was sleeping, he was captured and lynched by human supremacists."
"S-supremacists?" I repeated under my breath.
The idea of a group of people—ones who believed they're superior to everyone else—hunting down and murdering someone else because they looked different, sent an inhuman chill down my spine. I adjusted my posture, sitting up a little in my seat.
"Are they still here?" I asked, looking around with a hint of weariness.
The man stopped shuffling through papers and continued to look at me, sighing under his breath. "While I'm not entirely sure, I believe they were hunted down and captured by the Pollinators. Due to their horrific acts, they used the Requiters to kill and torture them to death."
"R-requiters? Who are they?"
"Another division of the Pollinators. Some say they're legend, others say they lurk among the crowds. All we know as a collective is that they torture people who do evil because thats all they ever know. They're mindless humans built and forged in unimaginable environments, instructed and lectured on every way to shatter a human's will and bones."
The air around me chilled noticeably, sending a chill down my spine. The man walked closer, leering over me.
"They can shatter every bone in your body, use some wacky magic to reconstruct you, and do it all over again. They'll probe your mind and bring your biggest fears to life. If they want, they could rip the very soul from your body and torture it for eternity."
He extended his hand, grabbing my collar and yanking me forward. "I'd recommend being careful here. The last thing you'd want is to be executed because of how you look. They don't like devils, they don't like mutants, they don't like anything that doesn't have two eyes and a body."
He abruptly let go, letting me fall backwards. I slumped in my chair, slowly recovering my energy as I looked up at the man, who was now smiling at me. He suddenly reached into the pile, taking out the given identification of the young girl I needed.
"Helana Rampfort, seven years old. She lives on 393 Corkshrew Road."
"T-thank you..." I slowly took the paper, looking at the identification listed. When I glanced at the profile and corresponding fabric colorings, it was identical to the description I had given. The young girl had curly hair, large eyes, and was clad in young lady's attire.
I slowly stood up, gradually regaining my equilibrium as I made my way to the door, pushing it open. The cold wind brushed against my body as I stumbled, the corners of my eyes still darkening slightly. I still felt a little dizzy, but I managed to coordinate myself enough to move forward.