“You ever tried buying toothpaste for three mouths? They don’t like to share.”

—Personal ramblings, Reuth Giapain

Though the name suggests multiple places where “Retribution” is meted out, which suggests someone carrying out such punishments, in truth, there is no one authority that controls the Retribution Fields proper, nor would anyone want to. The chaotic nature of the place meant that any semblance of uniformity or order would crumble sooner or later. Those that called this place home, then, adopted an attitude of both extreme tolerance and extreme prejudice, freely exchanging notions of allies and enemies to one another like a juggler juggling chainsaws alongside orange juice cartons.

A fine example of this attitude could be seen in one Reuth Giapain, scavenger and amateur butcher. He carried the godling he found and promptly subdued on his back, tied up and then held firmly in place with some duct tape. His destination was a town called Trinity Ton, and at the speed he was going, he’d reach it just before nightfall comes around their particular part of the Fields.

“Hear that? It’s a wiltsnake. Hide!” The mouth at the top of Reuth’s head whispered. The man took the warning to heart, waiting for the eponymous serpent to pass through as he hid behind two boulders and a withered tree. The sound of odd-numbered legs with hooves scratched the dirt along with a telltale hiss that never seemed to end.

“We can’t take a wiltsnake. Not enough juice for that.” The neck-mouth said.

“I think we do, but our spells are too weak for this one.” The crown-mouth added.

“Shut up before it hears us!” The main mouth snapped.

Time, as usual, stretched on seemingly for eternity before the tapping of hooves and unending hisses faded into the distance. Not one to relax so easily, Reuth gave a small tap to the ground with his staff and investigated his surroundings with a spell. Once he was satisfied, the man got out of his hiding spot and took note of the tracks that the wiltsnake left behind.

More than the dragging of its large body and hooves upon the ground, there was also a faint poison trail left behind from its sweat that had begun to evaporate into the air. Reuth took a damp cloth and held it over his face as he got into a running start to get through the impromptu poison trail as quickly as possible. He held his breath and closed his eyes as he passed through, not letting both ease up until he’s taken what he feels to be ten steps away from the menace.

“Puah! That tasted awful” The crown-head said as it exhaled. “Remind me to use teleportation next time we go somewhere.”

“We’re not made of money, so no.” The main mouth frowned. “Besides, it’s far too dangerous to use that kind of magic here.”

“It’s the Fields, that’s just how life goes here. And money’s not an issue if we would just take the better paying jobs.” The neck-mouth said while drawing out the vowels in the word “job”.

“I’m never going to do those kinds of jobs, even if I die.” The fourth voice suddenly showed up, ending the conversation right then and there. The pause that followed felt like a premonition of bad times ahead, and the weight of one Micha Ostor grew heavier on Reuth’s back.

Only, his captured godling was becoming heavier, and Reuth realized it was because they were starting to wake up from their beating. Reuth’s body tensed slightly and his arms were ready to cast the appropriate spells to knock the child down again, only the struggling they were expecting didn’t come.

“Are you going to eat me?” The godling said in a small voice. “I’m not very tasty.”

“We don’t eat godlings, silly.” Reuth’s neck mouth said, “We have standards.”

“So you don’t eat meat? That’s odd.” Micha tried to tilt his head, but his bindings made this act impossible.

“We eat meat, boy. Plenty of it too with how rich we are.” The crown mouth bragged with a toothy smile no one could see. “You’re out next meal ticket, and with the right buyer, we can even live like kings.”

“I don’t like kings.” Micha frowned as past memories came like rude guests. “They like to lie and beg a lot, especially to my father.”

“That’s just how fadelings are.” The neck-mouth said matter-of-factly. “They come in like they own the place, but a hundred years later and they’re all dead. Dust to dust, the lot of them.”

“Yeah, well we used to-“ The crown mouth’s tirade was cut short as a hand reached up and clamped their lips shut.

“Why are you two getting all chummy with the goods? He’s a godling, just like the rest of those ‘too-good-for-the-dirt’ types.” The main mouth snarled.

“What about the dirt gods? They live in the Godrealm too.” Micha chimed in.

“He’s got you there, Reuth.” The neck-mouth chuckled.

“I know you know what I mean, godling. I don’t much care why you’re in the Fields, but your meat is going to fetch a high price in the wet market.” The main mouth said flatly.

“You want my meat?” Micha said, shocked. “But I taste terrible! Just ask my dad’s dog, he’ll tell you the same.”

“Wow, yikes.” The neck-mouth cringed.

“I’m not touching that.” The crown mouth said with surprising conviction for once.

“ … Kid, shut up.” The main mouth said. “Your yapping is giving me a headache.”

“Oh.” Micha’s head sank onto Reuth’s back, his spirit exhausted.

“Now, now, don’t be too sad. I hear godlings can be reincarnated after some time.” The neck-mouth spoke in an odd, almost mother-like tone.

“It wouldn’t be you anymore of course. Someone else is going to be inside, and hopefully someone smarter than you.” The crown-mouth said, expecting an anguished reply from the young boy. But it never came, as physical exhaustion caught up to Micha and put him to a deep and restless sleep.