The God of Jesters
Chapter 697 - 11.01.2 Congrats bro.

Chapter 697: 11.01.2 Congrats bro.

Well, she did mess it up, the city of Mersood, being a junction, had more eyes on it than she could have expected. And the losses of certain men of some decent background would obviously be explored. It wasn’t hard for the involved parties to know that something was wrong, going on in Mersood.

Of course, deaths and disappearances often happen in Azad, random killing caused by emotions or small spats. But a sequence of disappearances was something odd. It would mean that some new organization involved, which would cause the already established powers in Mersood to go on an edge. Or it’s some psycho that is killing for killing sake.

Then there are the occult sacrifices. Although voodoo doesn’t exist in the lands of Azad, the delusion and superstitious folks always happen to employ a version of it out of ignorance and fear. It wasn’t long before a man had killed his daughter, and then multiple other little girls, in hopes of conceiving a son.

Then there were the cults of various gods that had been popping up recently. Usually shut off before they can take root, but it doesn’t mean they are not a problem that can be ignored so easily. Some of their members are known to use coercive and outright criminal methods to increase the influence of their deity.

Which one is it?

Wondered Lausan Darde, an investigator who was dancing some blood around in his hand while looking at the crime scene. "The first one we found so fresh... it’s her again." The Nightlife Butcher was the game given by those investigating the recent killings. A name that Lausan had been against, as it in a way glorifies this killer. However, due to how suppressed these incidences were in hopes of not causing any losses in the businesses, the city had kept the deaths to themselves.

Well, only for a little. "The reporters are outside." The one dead was a private investigator, a previous war vet, who had chosen to pick up his old clothes to attract the killer to him. And he seems to have succeeded, though only to a limit, for he lies down, dead and reduced to fool.

"Poison, Daedra poison..." The blood in his hand fell to the floor, turning dark and dead before his eyes turned toward the rest of the inspectors. "Shut down this establishment, this poison is harder to hide... the killer should have kept it here somewhere." In Lausan’s eyes, the way the killer could ignore the eyes in this dirty establishment showed that they had been familiar with this place and its people. It’s why they were ignored and had been able to easily enter the room of the victim.

Of course, for now, these very same people claim to have never noticed such an odd existence. An answer that seemed genuine on their end, as for whether this was true? That can only be learned at a later date during some "thorough" interrogation.

Though, think what Lausan wanted, the result of his searches bore no fruit, there were no traces of that poison anywhere in this den of degenerates. Just some recreational drugs that enhance your enjoyment in this place.

Drugs that made Lausan’s mood terrible. ’I hate this place.’ He said, looking at the young faces hiding behind the slightly older ones. ’Disgusting people.’ he was not calling the downtrodden prostitutes disgusting. But the people that exploited them.

Being the father of a young daughter, the hatred in his heart for this place can’t be explained. But due to his profession, he understood who owned this place, so there was not much he could say or do about it.

The most he can do is. "This place will be in lockdown for a week, no one is to touch the room." He will give these women a week of respite, a time to rest. That’s all he can do.

As for the killer?

’What is your reason?’ The ritual angle seems to be the most plausible one, the perpetrator steals the heart, eyes, kidney, and liver of her victims. Common organs are usually used in rituals for fertility as well as purification.

However if there was one thing that was not part of the ritual, it would be what she does to the body. ’It’s personal.’ He thought, coming to a simple conclusion after some thought. "She is working for someone..., collecting these for someone else, but she can’t help herself and do this." He looked at the faces of all the victims they could find, some rotten and some even turning into skeletons. However, one thing was common among them all. All of their mouth was filled with their own junk.

’An old victim taking things in her own hands... or someone else was a victim.’ This was not important, what was important was the goal of these killings had been established, and it can be ascertained that the individual hunting all these men was nothing more than a puppet, the ones behind her were the real trouble.

’Would she strike again/’ Lausan hoped that she wouldn’t do it anymore, it’s better if someone like her ran away.

Because, even if he didn’t like all these men and the forces behind them, his job was still to catch a criminal like her. And if things kept on going the way they were, her throat would soon be in his hand.

And Lausan was not a foolish kind, once that happens, there is no mercy in his eyes. ’Run away girl... this is all I hope of you.’

******

After meeting with the old man, Farhad came to his small home with a few figures that were darting around. Figures with familiar faces, some of whom were cooking some food, while others were cleaning clothes.

This was a group home, something Farhad had established by himself. Usually housing around thirteen individuals, most of which were only men.

Of course, that was not the issue here. "Boss, you are back?" One of the women spoke, appearing older than Farhad, she bowed her head before going back to work. Which was holding an entire tree trunk on her shoulder and bringing it to the back of the house to be chopped for some wood fire.

"Hey, don’t overcook it... it will lose all flavor."

Came another sound from the kitchen.

The scene is not too odd. These people were the group he had found. Each as lost as him, in a world that abandoned them. So for these directionless people, the least Farhad does is show them a path he had just started exploring, turning the life of uselessness into something to be proud over.

"After dinner, let’s have a small meeting, I wish to inform everyone of something." Farhad felt melancholic at this moment.

’An uncle.’ It felt odd, this... this normality. It felt so odd that Farhad thought he was being made a fool. Or it was a trap built to deal with him. But why would anyone do that? His strength had long been established. And unless the people wish to bring Legends and even gods, none can stop Farhad.

And it didn’t seem beings of such level would bother to touch Farhad anyway. ’So I am really an uncle huh.’ At this moment in time, he had long crossed the age of fifty, appearing still as young as he used to be with slight differences to his face as he had somewhat forgotten what he used to look like.

There is no based face of his, his face is what he wills it.

’Mother should have kept pictures of my youth... this can be an opportunity.’ He wanted to go; he wanted to meet his nephew and the mother he hadn’t seen in a long time.

As for Jester’s threat, it didn’t matter anyway. The intention behind his threat was for Farhad to grow on his own, become something greater while accepting his gift and not dally over his family.

Which Farhad did achieve. Not to mention, anything that Farhad owed to the jester had long been repaid and even some more. There is nothing holding Farhad from meeting his family again.

Of course, besides his will.

He could have gone and met them a decade ago, but he held it in and lived helping people. ’What will they name him? Not dad. It will be so awkward.’ Farhad smiled, building up memories that didn’t exist and fantasies that he hoped would turn into reality.

Farhad had already seen the boy grow up, looking something akin to him but more manly. He grew up to be a professor, far from war, and entered a university that Farhad had always hoped to enter, before being thrown into the Mage Institute. ’I will protect you... just focus on stud...’

"Jester... playing with my mind like this."

"As experienced as always... few could break free from this fantasy of theirs, do you know?"

"I don’t care what others want. I paid my due, you have no right to visit me or ask me to do anything. I am free of you... of everyone."

"Do you think a friend will only come here when he needs something? Don’t worry little Grifter, I had no reason to come here besides congratulating you over the good news. How does it feel to be an uncle?"

"..."

"You came here at this time... were you aware of it?... no. That’s not it."

"Jester, have you been keeping an eye on me all this time?" No that can’t be, thought Farhad. Jester was not capable of hiding from him. He always knew felt Jester’s presence before, but for the last decade, he hadn’t felt much besides certain stories of the Cult Jester created.