Journey (GI x SBI) *Discontinued*

Chapter 7

The crack of thunder was so close to his left ear that he staggered backward and nearly fell into the maw of the granite chasm. From behind a series of boulders shaped like an anaconda winding its way up the mountain, a puff of smoke could be seen dissipating into the clear spring morning. My father was prone, stomach flat on the ground... stunned. With an imperceptible turn of his head, my father could see a Uraway Rifle (the favorite weapon of citizens from Qingce Village) rising again to fire. Phil had two choices: Stay prone and exposed to another shot or jump to his feet and race to the nearest boulder that comprised the belly of the massive granite snake.

Phil aptly chose the second option. Seemingly in a single movement, he sprung to his feet and darted toward the boulders. With deft agility, he dove headfirst behind a boulder. As this chain of boulders serpentined its way up the mountain, Phil was actually mere meters from his would-be assassin. So close were the two adversaries that Phil could hear the distinct "click" of the Uraway being prepared to fire. With only a sword at his hip and some flynt in his satchel, Phil felt cornered and hopelessly outgunned.

But, Phil was savvy and spent much of his youth alone in the mountains. He knew every plant and animal within a 100-kilometer radius. Knowing that the Scotchbrush at his feet was highly (if not, immediately) flammable, he quickly started gathering a bunch of the brush, as if collecting flowers for a Windblume Festival. Slowly and silently, he crawled on his belly around the perimeter of boulders. He was close enough to hear the nervous panting of his foe.

Phil wasn't going to come this far, only to fall to the bullet of an unknown obstacle. Taking the flint from his pouch and unsheathing his sword, he silently lifted himself atop the boulder closest to the man whose breathing he could now hear as clearly as his own. As he caught the face of his assassin for the first time, he could read the astonishment on the young child's face. Not allowing himself the luxury of a moment to pause, he dropped toward her, struck the flint with his sword and tossed the Scotchbrush at her face. Like a flash of lightning, the brush ignited, temporarily blinding the kid. This had the desired result and gave Phil the blinking moments he needed to apprehend his young foe, grasping their flailing arms and binding them behind her back.

Rendered immoble, he yanked down the young child's hood. Dull eyes glared at him from behind the kid's brown bangs. Their skin was pale, with multiple scars littering their face.

"Who are you?" He asked, tightening his grip on the kids's arms. They didn't respond, only looking away from him. Phil narrowed his eyes. My father never usually got that mad at people trying to kill him, however this person wouldn't speak. He had every right to know who sent them, or who they were.

"Tell me, and I won't be forced to burn your hands." The kids' head snapped up to look him in the eyes. Phil could tell they were trying to calculate their next move, but there weren't any to make. They were trapped.

The kid sighed in defeat. Their shoulders drooped, and they hung their head low.

"Aimsey." They whispered with a tone that suggested dejection more than defeat. "My master sent me to kill you. And it looks like I failed. Might as well cut my own head off." Phil's eyes widened in shock. What sort of master cuts people's heads off if they don't succeed at doing his bidding?

Phil captured the opportunity to turn an interrogation into a bridge-building conversation. With a patient and compassionate voice, Phil inquired, "Who is your master and why would he or she want me killed."

"You're getting way too close," Aimsey responded curtly. "My master is obsessed with protecting our home and YOU are a danger to us all."

Befuddled, Phil responded, "Honestly, little one, I have no idea WHAT you're talking about!" Phil could see Aimsey wince and scowl when referred to as "a little one".

"You're the one they refer to as Zephyrus. Your quest to uncover the disappearance of citizens of Liyue Harbor and the link to the Silk Flower trade is putting you, your family and my home in great peril."

Now, Aimsey could see the upperhand had shifted. Phil showed a brief expression of concern. Lifting them to their feet from their bound arms, he yanked Aimsey's face to his and yelled, "What do you know about MY FAMILY!"

"I cannot reveal my sources. But, we in The Council of Xonsu have received reliable intelligence that your family has been abducted and are being held against their will by the infamous pirate, Dream." Aimsey could see that her words struck this man, like a punch to the gut. "That's what I mean by too close," the kid continued. "You and your family have succeeded at getting the attention of some very dangerous people... or, at least in form, they're people. Vile, venomous bile would be too kind of a descriptor for the sorts that you've unearthed!"

Phil was smart enough to know that the enemy of his enemy meant that Aimsey was a potential ally. He had collected enough intel on his journey to know – without a doubt – that the nation's vast resource of Silk Flowers were being manipulated and distributed to promote the Lilac Death – a scourge that was taking lives at a shocking rate.

"Our home is a peaceful village of tailors, mercantile producers and tradespeople. Until two years ago, we were barely a spot on the map. Exactly twenty-six months ago, eight men rode into our village astride massive steeds. They wore the garments of nobles but they held the countenance of villainous wretches. Apparently, our village occupied a strategic position between four trade routes. The mountains that surround our village are rife with Lillinium Blossoms – the most poisonous flora in the land."

Tailors, mercantiles, tradespeople and, now, Lillinium Blossoms... Phil had been on this trail for two weeks and – at this moment – the thread to the entire mystery wound itself to a clear and incredibly disturbing conclusion. The Lilac Death was being calculatedly spread via CLOTHES! But, WHO was behind such a notoriously awful and indiscriminately lethal plot?

Phil turned to Aimsey with a half smile that suggested he was a wary but reliable friend. "I'm much more than close... I know exactly what's been happening to our nation. Now, I could sure use your help – and your master's help – to figure out who's behind this treachery. So, who did you say was your master again?"

Aimsey looked at him wide-eyed. "No one speaks the name of my master. No one." They started trembling, violently. "It's bad enough that I mentioned him. If I were to say his name..." Phil almost felt bad for the kid. He slowly wrapped his arms around them, trying to comfort the trembling innocent. Aimsey returned the gesture of detente. They stood there in silence, for a minute or two, until another voice was heard.

"Aimsey?!" The kid looked towards the direction of the voice.

"Billzo?!"