After we left the restaurant, the rain began to slacken. That was a good thing, as I imagine it would be difficult for Mark to use Horace's scent to track him down in this condition. Yet, the man quickly led us through the district as if he already knew the path. Sure, he made a show of our journey, occasionally stopping at alleys and sniffing around as if he were a bloodhound, but it never amounted to anything.
He'd explain that he lost his scent, and we'd wonder for a block or two, and then Mark would miraculously find it again. We would follow it for a few blocks, but he would also lose it again. His most recent trial led us into the Bronze District, and the glare of resentment was prevalent on the kitsune's face. He carried himself as if he were naturally better than the disenfranchised individuals in the district.
He led us through alleys where wet beastmen rested in makeshift rock and wooden shelters. Each time, he upturned his nose and stepped over them. Bonner and I followed him, but we didn't have any issues until Mark ran over another beastkin. He must've thought he was playing Hockey because Mark trampled the poor wolf beastkin as if he were trying to start an altercation.
Seeing him act this way was ridiculous, and unlike last time, someone decided to stand up to him.
"H-Hey! Stop that right now!"
Bonner wanted to intervene and calm everyone down. I placed my hand on his shoulder and stopped him from interfering. Mark was being unnecessarily reckless as if he were overcompensating for something. The voice that called out to him was an older man with long, dark gray ears. He was either a wolf or a fox; honestly, it was hard to differentiate.
For a man residing in this part of the city, he wasn't as torn down as the others. He was slightly more muscular than the others, and his blue eyes were defiant. The beastkin climbed down from the rooftop before leaping in front of Mark. It didn't do him any good, though, because Mark backhanded the man as soon as he got close to him. Seeing the man drop onto the ground was sickly, but he couldn't take that disrespect lying down.
He tried to climb to his feet, but Mark's foot slammed against the man's face.
"You're a foxkin too, but you fail to know your place. Look at my fur's color, pissant," Mark snarled as he crouched down to the man's level.
Bonner again wanted to step in, but my tight grip stopped his advances. While I agreed Mark was going too far, there was something to be learned from his actions.
"You don't get to do what you want because of that!" the foxkin snapped, but Mark's fist made him change his tune.
The kitsune punched the foxkin in his chest before lifting him into the air. He glared fiercely up at the man, but to his credit, the foxkin didn't back down. However, his gaze did falter when his eyes landed on Mark's ears for some reason. If I were to compare the two, there was a notable difference other than color. The blue-eyed foxkin had a nasty cut in his ear, which appeared to be old. Mark must've spotted that because he asked a bizarre question,
"Where is your master?"
I perked up as I observed the reactions of the few occupants in this alley. To my surprise, there were other grey-eared foxkins like the one who stood up to Mark. Each of them was stunned and shaking when Mark's question hit their ears.
'That cut must be an indication of their status as slaves. How did Mark know that?'
I knew Mark had locked himself in and learned about the region's history for a few days, but I feel like this would have been something he mentioned to us.
"I have no master! I-I'm a free fox!" the foxkin man said, his voice mimicking that of a beastial growl.
"You were," Mark declared before slamming the man onto the ground. "Now you have the honor of serving me, and I require your service immediately."
The foxkin man let out a wheezing cough as he recovered from the impact of Mark slamming him. His gaze shifted to me and Bonner as he silently pleaded for us to intervene. While usually, I'd intervene happily, this case would have to be different. I need to know what Mark managed to learn, and apparently, he was using the fact that his fur was orange and white to subdue the gray-colored foxkins.
Their class must have had a hierarchy, and Mark used his acquired strength to throw his weight around. After catching his breath, the foxkin didn't put up much resistance. It surprised me how little it took him to crush the foxkin's spirit, which was frightening. It was also unnecessary.
As Mark marched around the encampment, the subdued foxkin man seemed to do Mark's bidding as he took charge of the collective. Many of the foxkin were on the younger end, but Mark's tight fist grip on their psyche was fascinating to witness. There was one older woman with droopy ears and a sickly frame, and an older foxkin man around her age. He was missing an arm, and dried blood stained his clothing. He had a faraway look in his eyes as if he were detached from this world.
"Why do you allow him to mistreat these people? Mark would never..." Bonner said to me. His eyes filled with disappointment.
"It isn't right, but sometimes you must feel a little icky inside to get something done. We need to follow Mark's lead for now."
"That isn't him, and if we continue to stand by, then we are complicit."
"Didn't you hear Mark at the banquet? He's a God now. I guess this is his will," I responded, trying to lighten his mood.
"If he were a god, Mark would follow in the steps of our holy father. He would be a god who rips away injustice. The man before us is reveling in it. Look at his face; it sickens me. This is not what Jesus would do."
Bonner was right, but I had long come to terms with the fact that this man was not the actual Mark but an impostor. However, knowing that means nothing if we do not understand his motives and goals. That is why I decided to stand by and allow this imposter to do as he pleased despite sullying our friend's features.
"You're right, but we'll have to toughen up for now and watch. Seeing such a hateful expression on his face is sickening, but we must bear it for now. We'll continue following him, and hopefully, we'll unmask whoever this is and set things right," I responded.
Watching the imposter lord over the destitute foxkin had become unbearable quickly. To prevent any more damage to the innocents, I let out a piercing whistle to get his attention. It worked, and he turned away from his new slaves with annoyance leaking in his eyes.
"What do these guys have to do with our job? Leave them be and get back to tracking down Horace. We don't have all day, and Bonner is getting annoyed with the rain," I said sternly.
Imposter Mark turned to the other foxkin before nodding toward us. Hesitantly, the foxkin approached, and I watched him apprehensively.
"He is the most useful person in this group. Trust me; we could use an extra pair of ears," Imposter Mark justified.
I shifted my attention to the foxkin, and he nodded his coerced acceptance. He was likely afraid of what this maniac would do if he didn't go along with what he wanted.
"Fine, but if he holds us back, we're dismissing him," I said.
I had no intention of allowing this imposter to use Mark's image to keep this foxkin enslaved via fear for long. I plan to make up a reason to dismiss the guy and allow him to return to what I assumed was his family. After a moment of sniffing the air, Imposter Mark miraculously found the scent of Horace, and we followed him. I could tell that this man was bullshitting us and using what he thought was our ignorance against us.
He had another thing coming, but we played the role of blissfully unaware for as long as it was convenient. Imposter Mark always kept the new foxkin at his side as if he were his servant. I wasn't buying that, but I chose to overlook it, and it appeared to be a good decision in the long run.
After a few minutes of traversing the streets, we found ourselves at what appeared to be an abandoned building. Unlike the surrounding buildings, which were in a state of disrepair as usual, this building must have received some upkeep over the years. Imposter Mark turned to face us, his fox-like tail limp from the weight of the rain.
"Is this the place?" Bonner asked. His voice, while flat, was altered by his skepticism.
I shared in his skepticism when Imposter Mark nodded with confirmation.
"My nose has led us to the right place, so you don't have to wear those expressions on your face. It is as if you doubt me."
"Doubt is healthy in a friendship as rich as ours, Mark. You, of all people, should know that," Bonner said.
"If we did, could you blame us? Look at this place, we're in the middle of the slums at this sketchy ass place. Any human with a functioning survival instinct would assume this was an ambush spot. With a sketchy bastard like Horace running around, and if you add the other unknown variables, we'd be stupid to go in without preparations," I said, crossing my arms.
There was a twitch in Imposter Mark's face, and his tail took a subtle movement out of what I would assume was annoyance. He stared at us with contemplation written on his face. I imagine this bastard cosplaying Mark's visage would think that would have been enough to lure us into this building. Undoubtedly, we would have been ambushed when we entered, looking for Horace.
If they were to subdue us, they would have been able to lure the real Mark out alongside Claire, who was likely their main priority. I have committed the appearance and the path to this building to my memory, as we will have to return here soon with the real Mark. Bonner must've been on the same wavelength, but he took action before me.
Without further explanation, Bonner turned on his heels and began walking back the way we came. With a shrug to Imposter Mark, I followed in Bonner's footsteps. It was times like these that he chose to be decisive. No one I knew was as adept at self-preservation as Bonner. What some may consider cowardice was a strength in the eyes of the elf.
He did not hesitate to get the hell out of dodge if he even smelled a disturbance in the air. The closest animal comparison I would make to Bonner would be a deer. They prowled the forest with a mighty majesty, but the moment they heard a twig snap, they would stare for a moment to assess the situation, then bolt like a bat out of hell.
"W-What?! Where are you going? Aren't we going to look for Horace?!" Mark called to him, but Bonner didn't stop.
"I see no need. This is too dangerous, and Horace is likely dead. I will not put myself in danger for a lost cause. I believe it is time for us to wise up and make a better deal."
This made Imposter Mark's ears perk up, and he chased after us alongside his new beastkin servant. The beastkin seemed to contemplate escaping when Imposter Mark was distracted, and I could see it in his actions. However, for some reason, he decided to follow too.
"What kind of deal are you suggesting?" Imposter Mark asked when he caught up with us.
"It should be obvious," I answered.
Bonner decided to give him a way out when he didn't respond immediately. He stopped in his tracks before turning to face the impostor. I followed suit and watched as the elf raised his eyebrow and exhaled.
"We should hand over Clarice and be done with it. Negotiate our freedom in exchange for the noblewoman. We've only been here for a week, and yet, you both have nearly died. I can not, in good faith, feel safe working in these conditions, especially at our strength. We still have things to work on; you said so yourself. If we continue to distract ourselves with this situation, then there is a fifty percent chance that one of us will die. That is why I'm pulling the plug: dismiss your little pet and go find Clarice."
To be honest, Bonner's stern tone really took me aback. He spoke as if he were our leader and had had enough of the partnership with Claire. His usual unreadable expression was dialed up to eleven as he placed his arms behind his back. I wouldn't have expected that from him, but neither would Imposter Mark. I vaguely understood how certain dynamics worked within this new world, but there was something I picked up early: within this city, elves were the big dogs, from the looks of it.
Every important bigwig noble appeared to be an elf. Meanwhile, the bottom of the barrel slums was filled with fox beastkins like Mark. While Mark would note a racial discrepancy like that, it is obvious that he wouldn't adhere to that, especially when it pertains to our group dynamics.
Had this actually been Mark and not an imposter, he would likely told Bonner to his ass. However, whoever this imposter was, it was apparent they were not Mark, so he gave the wrong response. He appeared skittish for a moment before dismissing the foxkin without hesitation. The man seemed to be surprised and uncertain about what to do next, so I gestured for him to leave us, "Go on, you're free to go. You kind of wasted your time with us, so I'll offer you an apology for that," I said.
He gave me no response when he scampered off into a nearby alley. I was curious about where he was going, but I had no important matters to deal with. Shifting my attention to Bonner, I tried to guess his next course of action. I was sure both of us were under the conclusion that this man was an impostor, but I was unsure how to deal with it properly. We were on a wide-open street with little traffic due to the rain. The light rumble of thunder could mask any altercation that arose, so I felt confident that this might be the time to bring this bastard down.
If Horace really were in that building, then it would mean that this man brought him there. The imposter's ears perked up as he stepped away from our location. He had a neutral expression as he assessed the situation. I'm sure he had doubts that he was fully convinced, but now it had likely dawned on him that we would not be easily deceived.
"So, Mark, what's nine plus ten?" Bonner asked suddenly as he turned away from us.
Oddly, he decided to ask the doppelganger a math question, but I could tell by the shadows in his eyes that it was serious. Bonner wanted to know the answer that this man would provide. He had his back to us as he allowed the man to reply. It was a simple mathematical question, but I'm sure this man believed foxkins was illiterate or something; therefore, he had to tailor his answer.
A moment went by, and the man didn't reply immediately. That made Bonner perk up his ears and look over his shoulder. I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes. The heavy scent of poverty washed down the street with an eager breeze. The rain became more plentiful, yet not one complaint arrived from the foxkin. There was a gleam in his glasses as he opened his mouth to speak,
"Nine-"
Bonner snapped around and extended his arm toward the man. His eyes showed a fierce glare as he declared, "Wrong answer!"
The doppelganger's eyes widened as the wind whipped around Bonner's fingertips and slammed into his body—the glasses of the figure scattered as he took a nasty tumble down the road from us. Bonner's attack was so uncharacteristic and fast that I hardly had the time to prepare myself. He had decided to take action, and I stood by his side in preparation.
The doppelganger rolled backward onto his feet and had a notable scratch cutting across his cheek. He recovered from the attack with the grace of a gymnast, and he shot a murderous glare in Bonner's direction.
"So, what gave me away? Was it the voice? The actions? What gave me away, Elf?" the doppelganger hissed. "I need to know."
"The real Mark would have said twenty-one without hesitation," Bonner said calmly as he lowered his hand.
Then, the elven bastard decided to step behind me as if I were a shield. The doppelganger raised his eyebrow in confusion, and I followed suit. Mark would know the right answer is nineteen, but it was then that it hit me. I burst into laughter, knowing the trap Bonner sprung to entrap this poor, unknowing fool. On the other hand, the doppelganger didn't appear as amused as I was, knowing the final nail in his coffin was a dead meme that Mark found amusement in.
"I doubt someone like you was capable of defeating him, considering you didn't know where he went today. That tells me you were trying to weasel your way to find something," Bonner said after I contained my laughter.
He peeked behind me, which I found hilarious, considering he had attacked the man first. Sure, he used some magic, magic I didn't know he had access to. I'll have to question him later on why he thought it was a good idea to leave that out. However, he did appear quick to pick up something when we were inside Mark's magical ability with Fawkes.
I can imagine that was the beginning of his magic usage. We could discuss that when the real Mark returns from his journey with Claire. The imposter glared at Bonner for a moment longer before squaring up with us. This man was confident, I'll give him that. Even if caught, he'll achieve whatever his goal was.
"You plan on fighting? I wouldn't recommend it. There are two of us and only one of you. The math isn't in your favor," I reminded him.
'Well, technically, it's a one-versus-one since I doubt Bonner will fight, but he doesn't need to know that.'
I clenched my fists as he sized up the imposter. I will give some credit. He looked identical to Mark, down to the nubby fingernails. This man's ability would be scary, and shit, had we been from this world, then it is a chance his abnormal behavior could've been overlooked. We would have led him to our hideout and ruined everything.
"Bud, we should be careful going forward. If we don't capture him now, then it is possible that he could come at us as a different target in the future. He may not know internet memes, but he can be convincing if we are unaware. Imagine if he takes on the appearance of Horace and infiltrates us," Bonner whispered, and he made a very good point.
He had made an unlucky decision to emulate Mark, and since we've known him for a long time, it would be unlikely he'd deceive us on the minutia. However, we don't know much about Horace, and if he had chosen to emulate him instead, then it is likely we wouldn't have known the difference right away.
"Mark was attacked by some outsiders last night, so it is possible he was there to witness it. He probably assumed Mark had succumbed to his injuries and decided to slip in," I said, and Bonner nodded.
"So now what?" Bonner asked.
"Let's take him down and question him. We'll figure out how he was able to commit identity theft."
Just as I spoke, the doppelganger bolted in the opposite direction in a sprint.
"Damn it! Come on!" I shouted.
It was a moment for me to pursue him, and that bastard was fast as fuck. Bonner and I chased him down the block before he took a turn down the alley. He ran through another beastkin encampment, flattening anyone unlucky enough to be in the way. It was challenging to remain courteous to the people when the imposter was wreaking havoc in the encampment.
The encampment was barely livable, and I assumed the poorest of the poor lived in this area. That made whoever this was an even bigger coward than I imagined. This street was compact to the brim with rows of wooden huts, filled with the distraught, and he was using their misfortune to escape us.
Whenever a beastkin decided to step up and question what he was doing, the imposter shoved them aside. He did this once to an older beastkin with silver and black hair. The man had the ears of a beaver and the bravado to boot. He lashed out with frenzy at the doppelganger when the man knocked over his settlement.
The distraction allowed us to catch up with him. I wanted to end this charade once and for all, so I rushed toward the doppelganger with my fist clenched. Leaning back, I threw a punch aimed directly toward the man's face. His eyes narrowed as he did something I didn't expect: he pulled the beaver beastkin in the path of my punch. My fist collided with the back of his head, causing the beastkin to rocket into another hut.
It might not have been the intended target, but I kind of devastated the poor beastkin instead. Wooden fragments exploded upon contact with the beastkin, and a whirlwind of agonizing cries erupted from the area. It reminded me of the sight of a car accident. Pandemonium erupted as the nearby beastkin, and even some wolf beastmen, pulled themselves from their huts to see what was going on. While I was distracted, the cowardly doppelganger managed to kick me on my right side.
That shit hurt like hell, and so I wanted to return the favor. I wound back to deliver another punch toward the doppelganger, but I suddenly found my arm caught by a massive furry hand. All of the momentum that I created was stopped dead in its tracks.
'What the hell?!'
I attempted to snatch my arm away from the responsible party, and I found incredible resistance to the act. My eyes narrowed immediately as I shifted my focus to the individual responsible for this crazy level of strength.
'B-Bernard?!'
I was stunned as a large bear beastman loomed over me with his hand gripping my forearm. He resembled Bernard of the Gold Coin Brigade, but I quickly noticed a striking difference. While Bernard was wider with brown fur, this one was slightly smaller and had deep black fur with bright silver streaks within the patch of fur on his head. Fiery red eyes glared down at me as he leaned down and let out a booming roar in my face.
Saliva pelted me in the face, and in a fit of rage, I punted the big ass bear between his legs. He felt the pain from that, but it did little but to piss him off. He tried to yank me around, but I barely budged. I did slide a few inches across the ground, but other than that, I ceded no ground.
"Get your hands off of me!" I bellowed as I yanked the unbalanced bear beastman's hand off my body.
This time, thanks to the kick to the testicles, I was able to free myself from his grasp. Although my goal was to free myself from his hands, I didn't expect the bastard to slam into the ground with the impact of a boulder. The deep rumbles of his impact made me realize just how that fucker was, and I wasn't keen to allow him to grab me.
I backed away quickly and glanced around to relocate that bastard doppelganger. Bonner finally managed to catch up with me, and when he arrived at my side, he spoke,
"There is no time to waste, bud. We have to find him, not deal with nuisances in a street fight."
"Oh? And here I thought I should take on all comers," I remarked sarcastically. "Tell me, do you see the son of a bitch?!"
With the larger amount of beastkin and beastmen circling to figure out what was going on, it provided a perfect opportunity for a shapeshifter to escape, and that pissed me off.
"Fuck! It's that damn bear's fault! I had him!" I growled.
I had that bastard dead to rights before that lumbering fool got in the way. An exasperated exhale escaped my lips as the bear decided to push himself from the ground and glare at me.
"I hope you have a solution to this situation. We have many forest friends coming our way, and I know it's not our fault," Bonner said, his voice strained with unease.
As he said, many more beastmen of different species decided to push through the crowd and look our way. It wasn't until I looked over the ground that I found the defining orange and white of Mark's tail. It slithered through the crowd like a snake before the doppelganger poked his head from behind the first black bear beastman. On his face was the most mischievous, diabolical, shit-eating grin that I had ever seen on Mark's face.
He was mocking us, and I understood why he decided to bring us here to lose us. He stepped before the beastman, who lazily looked toward the foxkin imposter. In a deranged and panicked voice, the imposter yelled, "Slavers! These men are slavers! They want the fur off our children's tails!!"