Alas, the Streetlight Talon won't be much of a focus for now. It might be weird, but have more anticipation for the freaks within the Subterranean Symphony.
If I managed to perform well when meeting them, I might be able to convert them into something useful somehow.
"Well, more things to do, woowee, more fun for the sunshine, I guess."
Now that I actually have a meaningful free time before the premium black forest arrived at the Swallow Office, I decided to meet with the other Mediator of the Hunter Gathering.
"Should I bring some presents? Nah, he wouldn't mind if I didn't bring anything."
With the Mediators being the neutral party of all kinds of activity within District 67, we actually have a lot more freedom than we were meant to be..
We only need to not side with one party too much, and as long as we didn't blatantly pick a favorite, there would be no people in this District that dared to mess with us.
Except for some fools.
A lot of fools, actually.
Well, while being a Mediator brought many privileges and benefits, there was not a single soul that wanted to sponsor us. Hence, such an important person like me was living off my life by consuming cheap junk food from time to time.
So aside from being the symbol of common sense, each Mediator had their own line of service that was already known by the communities. They weren't really bound to a specific kind of work, but we have our own well known preference when people think of us.
I, for example, was known to prefer to be hired as a bodyguard. Of course, I had a lot of potential important clients with big sheets of cash, but I couldn't really accept an offer from that kind of party and organization or whatever it is, because it would break the unaffected-neutrality of the Hunter Gathering in the eyes of many.
Kinda like a tradition for Mediators, even the other three still abided by this unspoken rule.
It was an underwhelming reason, to me personally.
It didn't apply much to the current situation of the Lowstreet too. I could just break that cycle and become a whole different kind of Mediator who racks up cash from numerous big organizations.
But I didn't.
Though, most of the time, I just didn't want any reason for me to get up from the husk of a depressive shell that I loathed.
This applied to all of the current four Mediators.
Aside from my case of lamentation, we Mediators had our own reasons for not moving forward to the world, despite having the capability to do so. Likewise, the Mediators of this era weren't really coming from generation or inheritance from that ancient organization.
One could say that, we were picked and offered this vague position by the former Mediators, just because of 'Why not?', anything more than that was a respective complication that didn't matter to others.
Most of us were willing to take this underwhelming, yet important role because of our connection with the former Mediators, after all.
In my case, the former Mediator who chose me back then was someone who had taught me the brutal way of the City's veins.
Stupidly enough, he was actually waiting for me in the form of a letter within an envelope, in the form of something that I couldn't really understand at first.
That envelope was in the possession of an active Mediator. That someone was also there in the moment of the beginning of my culture shock when I no longer live in the Hive. It was actually the same person that I'm trying to meet.
As for the Mediator that was giving him that envelope?
He was already dead.
A pitiful story, one may think.
Still, I didn't really accept the offer to become a Mediator because I'm following his last message.
It was because I'm a dead man with a living body who wanted an excuse to do nothing significant, in the name of letting everything go as it was supposed to be.
Welp, being a Mediator was still a noble position if I think about it.
The Hunter Gathering was the only symbol of unity within this District, without the true neutral party to hold the center of the stem, the Big Clover would no longer exist, and a massive war of attrition would be the only thing that could happen.
"Hmm, did the layout of this side of the Lowstreet somehow change? Weird, it seems like I'll be greeting a Nihil or two if the alley I'm taking keeps transforming." I tried going back, trying to see if I could save myself
The Mediator that I'm trying to reach was a massive powerhouse that was appointed to southwest veins, the murderous area of the Red Marauder.
Many people knew him as the 'Bad Fable', he was fearsome and attentive, fitting for a hellhole like this. That man was so tenacious, he was also well known within the heavenly Hive of this District, told by parents to their child as the numerous reasons why they should show their obedience.
While people came to my door for protection, most people within the Red Marauder 's turf called upon the Bad Fable to neutralize a rumble and any kind of hazardous threat that deafen their ears.
And because of the constant fight and battle royale happened for the sake of loots and infamy, the Bad Fable were mostly busy at this time of the day. Though, I believe that he won't be moving from place to place that much until another client requested a crowd subjugation or something.
And I know exactly the perfect place for such a chain of events to occur.
The problem was, I think I stumbled upon something irritating.
With the constant shift in turns and the layout of the alley, the deeper I went into the path I chose, the darker the hue within my vision, as if I'm deliberately entering a whole other kind of realm.
Even when I went back to the path that I took before, it only kept going on and on without limit, probably until there was nothing but darkness in my sight.
So instead of continuing my travel, I stopped and took a breather before examining this strangeness of the world.
"Interesting."
The alley of the Lowstreet didn't have this kind of delicate wind. Not to mention, it was traveling graciously from one direction, as if it was being blown from one source, branching to the maze of the alleys.
I turned back, and followed the source of wind.
Unlike before, there wasn't any shift of discoloration within my view as I progressed. I trekked more and more, until the wind got stronger and a faint deep voice could be heard from the distance. Eerily, the voices didn't make any sense at all, just like a gargled mess that the deaf tend to spout.
Without letting go of any sounds of all kinds from my body, not even a single click of my tongue—I deftly marched forward.
Two minutes into the corrupted world, the voice became clearer as it stung deep into my ears.
"Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear?"
With the increase of intensity from the wind, the voice became louder yet calmer in tone.
"The father it is, with his infant so dear; he holdeth the boy tightly clasp'd in his arm."
Black roots started to emerge from the walls and the buildings of the alleys, flailing up and down before getting brushed by the nasty wind.
"He holdeth him safely, he keepeth him warm."