“I…am well aware of your campaign. And its veracity. Well, veracity in the public eye. I have different views. But, be that as it may, Jane was successful in turning you into something else. A symbol of hunters unimpeded by law, order and the institutions that should govern a modern nation. I believe that the path to prosperity in Hope City requires the institutionalisation of our hunters. No more heroes. No more celebrity-hunters. And no more greedy corporations slaying monsters for only the highest bidder. This city needs to formalise its hunters and bring them into the fold of the civil service.”
His speech was impassioned but, as he finished, he slumped back into his chair. As if disappointed.
“But…that’s not what people want. People want the Last Light. The human embodiment of defiance. Against authority and monsters. They want you.”
I realised that I had uncrossed my arms. While Riaan’s diatribe against my profession had offended me, there was something vulnerable about him. Something defeated. I didn’t necessarily like him, but I struggled to hate him.
“They want me. But you do not,” I stated, matter of factly. Best to air our dirty laundry openly.
“Au contraire,” he said. “I do not have a special disdain for you. In fact, I respect you. You have done immeasurable good for this city through your practical deeds. I would be a fool to dislike the hunter who saved us from Loviatar, and countless undead. The Crusaders are a valuable organisation in my city. I may be…disappointed in the fame they have gathered, but I will not reject the good that they and you accomplish. But there are others who do not like what you have become. Taragon and Huguenot, for instance. Their agencies are practically ancient institutions in this city’s most famous industry. The Crusaders is an infant compared to them. But an infant that has skyrocketed in the public’s eyes. You have poached their hunters, taken contracts, and more than that…you have become a symbol. I have not met with them, but their communications are clear. They want you gone.”
“Delightful.”
“But that isn’t so simple now. Garce once tried to hamstring your operations to favour his interests in Drakenbane…”
Well, actually because I’d killed his son. But I wasn’t going to go announcing that from the rooftops.
“But something like that would only backfire now. You are a symbol, and symbols cannot be simply destroyed. Only…tarnished…”
He paused, contemplating his own words. My coat hummed during the awkward silence. I silently willed it not to burn his leather seating. That wouldn’t win me any favours.
Finally, I broke the silence.
“Why did you want to meet, Riaan? You obviously have a huge regard for democracy and equality. Something I can respect, in theory. But you are giving me the special privilege of meeting with me. Symbol or not, there must be a purpose.”
“In recognition of your importance to this city,” he said, his voice taking on an official tone. As if announcing a criminal sentence. “And that I am, before all else, a pragmatist, I would like to maintain a good working relationship with you. We both know that Jane Phoenix was going to win the elections. While the Spirit of the Law respected my…unorthodox election, I am yet to win the acceptance of the people. I hope that by working with you, I can accomplish two things. First, that your fame can rub off on me, but secondly and more importantly, that we can help each other rid this city of monsters.”
That’s something that I did like to hear. And, while I didn’t like working with authority, I had done it once before with Jane. Perhaps, I could implement her vision through Riaan.
“What do you have in mind?” I asked.
He leant back, seeming a bit more comfortable now that we had finished with all the nitty-gritty awkwardness.
“You start. Do you have any requests? Concerns? Ideas? What can we do together to help Africa’s last republic?”
“I heard the Anubite Syndicate has elections,” I pointed out, as an aside.
Something twinkled in Riaan’s eye as I brought up his subject of study.
“Yes, but they do not have universal suffrage. Far from it. I refer to the Anubite Syndicate as a Necrocracy. Only wights and spirits have a say in elections.”
“Maybe I should move there!” Treth chimed in.
“You’d love it,” Riaan continued, in the tone of good-natured sarcasm. “Necromancers and undead roam the streets with impunity, and Anubis offers boons in the way of consuming the souls of the living.”
“A charming little place.” I paused and rubbed my chin, thinking about what to say.
Riaan was offering me a golden opportunity to air my grievances. Or a trap to ensure my loyalty. As always. I would have to step carefully. Zombies were easy. Humans, not so much.
“The recent outbreaks in the slums,” I finally continued, deciding on my issue of focus. “There have been around a dozen in the past few months. Most of them in the slums. Puretide has downscaled its operations since its losses in the Necrolord case, and Drakenbane is not equipped to deal with hordes. That means that the Crusaders have been having to juggle more outbreaks than we have people. We’re stretched thin and I’m not sure how long until one of these outbreaks gets out of control.”
“What is your suggestion? Dedicate more police to the slums? Tensions at the Three Point Line aren’t high at the moment. We could spare some of the CDF.”
I winced. The thought of the military patrolling civilian streets didn’t sit well with me. It smelled too much like fascism. Too much like dark parts of this region’s history. But I had other concerns with the idea.
“Police and soldiers aren’t trained and equipped to deal with these outbreaks. They will lead to more infections. Case in point: the 2026 Muizenberg Outbreak. The first responders were police. They got too close to the zombies without the necessary weapons or protection. It just added fuel to the fire. No, the police have a role here…” I reluctantly admitted. “But that’s to contain an area until hunters arrive.”
“What about soldiers?” Riaan offered, rubbing his chin and crossing his legs. “The CDF handle the mass-undead infantry on the border well enough.”
“Frankly, give a toddler a tight and clear kill-zone and then arm them with a CAHSL, and they could wipe out Shaka’s Chosen.”
The CAHSL (pronounced like castle) was a monster of a gun. A fully automatic shotgun that fired hundreds of sharp pellets. They didn’t so much as kill zombies as turn them into black and bloody paste.
“And the CAHSL could not be deployed in the slums?”
“Not if you care about civilian lives. And I do.”
Riaan didn’t argue. Good.
“I don’t think brute force or even more bodies on the ground will solve this issue,” I continued, considering the case myself. “More hunters would help to eliminate the outbreaks more quickly but won’t stop them from happening in the first place. No, the real problem is necromancers.”
“So, these aren’t riftborne undead?”
I shook my head, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. How could someone so scholarly not know the basics of necromancy.
“For an undead to be contagious,” I explained, slowly. “They must be controlled by a necromancer. Necroblood is toxic regardless but requires that necromantic connection to be able to infect others.”