Epilogue: A New Justice

The late autumn breeze flowed through the quiet streets, giving the cobbles an icy chill. Though it was still early in the afternoon, the sun itself had been lost behind a sheet of gray clouds in the sky. Far off in the distance, those clouds turned slate, then black.

Apparently, a storm was coming in.

Of course, Salute didn’t let things like cool weather stop him. He was immune to the cold. For some reason though, his body occasionally shivered. Just for a moment. And it was completely unrelated.

He was heading down a familiar road, scanning and monitoring around him by habit. This was technically his off day, but he kept an eye out for trouble regardless. Only a smattering of people were out and about. There were a few kids here and there, and a couple of stalls at the marketplace, but it seemed most people had taken the weather as a sign that today wasn’t really suited for outside.

Salute finally made it to his destination: an alley full of discarded scrap furniture. He waded through carefully, avoiding contact with the old, honestly kinda icky wood, until he arrived at a familiar fort, around as big as two desks put together. A new, partially tattered tarp had been laid over the entrance, giving the occupant some privacy.

Not entirely sure how to do this, Salute settled for giving a knock to a nearby, 2-legged chair. He had to give 3 before an edge of the tarp lifted, a Sandile’s head poking out from underneath. When they saw Salute, they yelped and ducked back inside.

A sigh and another knock from Salute convinced the Sandile to try again. With their head extended from the tarp just far enough to reveal their eyes, they defensively watched the Zweilous, who couldn’t help but notice a small bit of fruit juice staining the corner of their mouth.

“Hey,” Salute said, keeping his voice low. “I just wanted to say thanks. For a couple of days ago. You really helped me out. I don’t know how things would have gone were it not for you.”

The Sandile bowed their head a bit, causing it to fully leave the tarp’s safety. They glanced to both sides of Salute, clearly looking for something.

“Wondering where Pyrite is?”

The Sandile nodded.

“Sorry, he’s not here anymore. He’s gone away for a while.”

The Sandile didn’t look comforted. Though Salute had told the truth, it sounded much more like a lazy euphemism for “he’s dead, dude.” Giving an intense look to a nearby cabinet that was so busted it was nearly unrecognizable, Salute considered his options.

“Wanna know a secret?” he finally whispered. “Nobody’s supposed to know, so you can’t tell anybody, okay?”

The Sandile cocked their head, eyes widening in a bright, childish way.

“Everybody else thinks he’s gone forever, but he’s not.” Salute pulled out the white pendant from his bag. “This is proof. He’s coming back for it, and he trusted me to keep it safe for him.”

The Sandile visibly relaxed. Pyrite really had a way with folks, didn’t he?

Salute looked up to the sky, which showed the day’s lousy weather. Hardly a day to be hanging out in a fort outside… but this Sandile had been here every day Salute had checked, for an entire week.

“…You live here, don’t you?”

A slow nod from the Sandile confirmed Salute’s suspicions.

“You know…” Salute couldn’t help but puff his chest up a bit and look a bit judgmental. “It’s completely illegal to squat on land you don’t have the rights to. You could get fined, or worse.”

The Sandile shrank down low, nearly ducking right back into their fort.

“Er… sorry.” Man, Salute was bad at this. “What I mean is… you shouldn’t be living like this. It’s not good for you.”

He wasn’t afforded any real response. The Sandile just gave a sad look to the ground.

“…You could live with me instead, if you want. I have an extra room.”

The Sandile gave a disbelieving look. Untrusting, even. And they still didn’t give him a vocal response.

“Can you talk?”

The Sandile nodded.

“Don’t want to?”

They nodded again, slower.

“I see. One of few words. The strong, silent type. A warrior who only speaks when they need to, when they have the most powerful things to say. You’re more of a champion than I thought.”

The Sandile’s frown wavered a bit, a small shake in their chest giving the impression of a stifled laugh.

“So how about it? You don’t have to stay if it doesn’t work. I won’t force you. But you shouldn’t have to be stuck without the option for a real roof over your head.”

The Sandile visibly thought through the decision, eyes occasionally drifting around as they weighed the pros and cons. Finally, they looked up to Salute, who tried his best to look unintimidating.

The Sandile slowly crawled out from their fort, bringing with them a single, somewhat squishy looking apple wrapped up in their tail.

“Great!” Salute shouted, before correcting his volume. “There’s just one rule, though. No more stealing food. We pay for our meals. Merchants need to eat, too.”

The Sandile gave a worried look to their apple. It was probably just a day away from going completely bad. Did they try to take what people wouldn’t miss? That only solidified Salute’s decision.

“If you need food,” Salute continued. “Just ask. I can pay for you. Why don’t we get some right now? Just one apple isn’t a meal fit for a noble warrior like you.”

The Sandile’s nod was tense, but the way their body rose revealed their true feelings. They would very much like a proper meal.

“Then let’s go. I know this one place run by a Watchog that should be pretty warm. Then I can show you the room, uh—”

He’d forgotten something. Salute gave a concerned look to the Sandile.

“What’s your name?”

The Sandile shook their head. No?

“Nobody ever gave you one?”

The Sandile weakly nodded, avoiding eye contact.

“…That’s okay. Nobody ever gave me a name, either. So you know what I did? I made one myself. Salute. How about it? Want to do the same?”

The Sandile’s mouth shifted to the side as they brought a claw up to their chin. They looked lost, uncertain how to begin.

“When you name yourself, you should pick something pure. A true ideal of the world. A concept to represent. Something that makes you swell with pride every time you hear it. That way you always have something to live up to.”

After a moment, the Sandile’s apprehension vanished, their eyes focusing into a determined stare, first at the ground, then the horizon. A look of certainty.

“Well? Figure something out? You have your name?”

The Sandile brought their fierce gaze to Salute. Their eyes seemed to swirl with a power that made his earlier comments about them being a warrior seem shockingly accurate. He gladly matched their enthusiasm, eagerly awaiting as they finally opened their mouth to speak. Their voice was small and scratchy. But not without conviction.

“…Justice.”

A massive grin spread across both of Salute’s faces, a familiar expression that could outshine the very sun itself.

“That’s perfect.”

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