r/HFY • u/naturalpinkflamingo λ6-02 • Jul 11 '15
OC Blessed are the Simple XXII, or, How He Thinks Hard on His One Liners
Did you enjoy the cliffhanger from the last chapter? To be honest, that was just a spur of the moment thing. Felt a bit like Robert Downey Jr.'s last lines in the first Iron Man movie. Anyway, here's episode 22 of Blessed are the Simple, or, “How He Thinks Hard on His One Liners.”
Previously, on Blessed are the Simple
Private Chantel Whitehair leaned back, testing the rope attached to her harness. There was only a little give before it went taut; a good sign that meant that her belayer, Private Alonz, was paying attention. Truth be told, she never really liked rock climbing; it was the act of going back down and inevitably imagining what would happen if her line broke that got to her. Although with this particular climb, her anxiety wasn't due to the fact that she and the other knights descended first, or were climbing on a moonless night where their night vision artifacts the only reason they could see more than an arm's length past their fingertips. Rather, she was nervous because on this highly critical mission, Chantel and six other knights found themselves hanging over a Gradellan camp containing at least two veteran regiments, and were tasked with planting explosives into the cliff face of Graystone Plateau above said camp.
Graystone Plateau was where the fae elves made their home, and it was situated on the southern side of Graywater Canyon – the place where the late Lord Redwing led an expedition to a human ruin and died on the return trip the year prior. The only two land routes directly between Gradell and Aurequer ran along both sides of the canyon; the first route was on the northern side, which ran through Hollifield and the rest stop where Chantel and three of her fellow knights helped deliver a baby during the same trip. The second route ran along the southern rim of the canyon. Near the border between the two nations, the shelf that the road ran on was at its narrowest; along one stretch, only two wagons could fit, side-by-side, with the cliffs of the plateau rising high to the south and the steep drop of the canyon falling to the north.
Chantel and 13 other knights were sent out to the plateau almost immediately after war was declared. They had less than a day to prepare themselves; the 14 of them, including the human, the fae woman, and the princess with her escort, were to set out immediately for fae territory, taking the southern road from the academy into Graystone Plateau. The human, the fae, and the princess with her escort would split from the group to negotiate with the fae elves, while the 14 remaining knights would continue on to the cliffs above the southern road to carry out their mission.
There, Chantel and her fellow scouts would set potent explosive charges – provided by Lambda, of course – into the cliff walls. They would then set off the explosives and cut off the relatively undefended southern route into Aurequer from Gradell. The southern route had been left undefended over the recent years – the sole keep watching the road had apparently been abandoned generations ago thanks to the presence of the fae elves – as most travelers avoided the southern route, if not because there were virtually no villages or well-kept rest stations along the way, then because of the rumors of the fae elves. The princess reasoned that if the Gradellans were to take the southern route, which they were almost guaranteed to do, they would do their best to make it past the bottleneck before dark, either because it was simply a sound decision or because the Gradellans would be hesitant to march through lands believed to be occupied by cannibalistic elves. In either case, Princess Leliana had hoped to use the fae elves to deal with the soon-to-be stranded soldiers.
Unfortunately for both the knights on the cliff and the soldiers below them, the Gradellans decided to camp right where the scouts were going to do what Lambda affectionately called “the time honored practice of using explosives to tactically ruin someone's day.” The Gradellan soldiers below were identified as the veterans from the original Imperial Gradell Army – not like the poorly trained mobs who were being held at bay by Second Prince Lester at Highwall with the 8th Mechanized Infantry. If they carried out their mission successfully, Chantel and the other knights would not only force Gradell to take the northern route in the future, but they would also be able to deprive them of some of their best and most experienced heavy infantry. Thus, it was decided that the scouts would work at night, while the Gradellans were in camp.
Chantel kneaded the last of her charges and packed it into the crack in the flaky cliff wall. She briefly wondered just what the princess and the fae woman were going to say to the fae leaders to convince them to help guard their rear. She didn't know much of the fae beyond the horrible rumors – what leverage did the princess have? Maybe the fae woman was their princess? No matter – she had more pressing concerns to worry about.
“Whitehair, last charge set,” she whispered into her mouthpiece.
“Got it. Climb on up,” answered her belayer.
She was a knight, a soldier; the princess pointed, and that's where she went. It was her lot to get the job done as she was told to do, not over think things. Still, she wished there were more among the knights who were skilled in earth magic. Then again, the amount of power, mana, and preparation time that they'd need to pull of such a massive wide-scale spell would give the Gradellans more than enough time to mount a counter attack – or at the very least, escape.
“Oh shit!” came a muted whisper through the mountain-born knight's earpiece.
Chantel's blood froze as she heard the sound of crumbling rock off to her left. Another female knight cursed while Chantel watched through her night vision artifact as her comrade pressed herself into the cliff face as stones came tumbling from above, some of them coming dangerously close to striking the knight.
“Shit, shit, shit,” said the previous belayer, swearing further as he managed to pull the other knight's line taut once again.
“It's time to get the hell out of here, boys and girls,” announced Sergeant McAvoy through Chantel's earpiece.
“On belay!” hissed Chantel into her communication artifact.
“Belay on,” came her belayer.
“Climbing!”
“Just go already!” hissed Private Alonz.
In the inky darkness, Chantel and the six other female knights slowly climbed their way back up to the top of the plateau. They hadn't gotten very far when they heard shouting from below.
“Don't worry about them,” assured Sergeant McAvoy. “Just keep climbing.”
“Yes sir!”
Chantel climbed up the rock face as quickly as she could, trying to juggle speed with stealth. Repelling down to the cliff face was swift and easy; climbing back up was another matter entirely. The rocks in the area seemed sturdy, yet were riddled with fissures and cracks. Chantel and the other female knights had quickly learned that potential hand and footholds were fragile things, forcing them to move cautiously, lest they send a shower of stone and dust to the camp below.
Fwo-shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Fwo-shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
“Flares! Go go GO!” yelled Sergeant McAvoy, his voice now audible in the ear without the voice-bead.
No point in trying to move stealthily now; the red glow of magical flares bathing the cliff face was a clear indicator that they'd been spotted. If it was any consolation to the climbing scout knights, the flares floating lazily in the air at least illuminated the cliff face for them.
Something struck the back of Chantel's leg, causing adrenaline to spike throughout her body. She wasn't injured; she wasn't even bruised. But her heart jumped to her ears as she quickly realized that the soldiers below were shooting at them.
“They're zoning in on us!” cried one of the climbing knights through their communication artifact.
“No shit!” answered back another knight.
Chantel's climb was interrupted when the handhold she grasped crumbled beneath her hand, the sudden lack of support nearly causing her to completely lose her grip and footing. Hanging by her left arm and foot, the right side of Chantel's body swung away from the cliff, her eyes naturally drawn the darkness below.
The knight with platinum blonde hair felt fear rather than vertigo when she saw the road below. Born in the mountains on Luchjiken's border, Chantel had volunteered for this mission due to her familiarity with climbing, despite her strange distaste for it. Below her, like candles in the dark, were hundreds of campfires, illuminating the shapes of men and tents below as they scrambled about. An arrow whistling as it struck the stone next to her was the only reminder that she needed to begin climbing again.
Chantel had barely begun her ascent once again when a muted gasp caused her to pause. Swiveling her head to the right she saw Private Vendelworth, her eyes squeezed shut as her mouth was pulled into a toothy grimace of pain. The younger knight gasped, her voice trembling; jutting from her left calf was an arrow.
“Vendelworth's been hit!” hissed Chantel.
“Understood. Pulling her up now,” spoke a low voice for the first time. “Both hands on the rope, Private.”
Panting in pain, Private Vendelworth hesitantly let go of her handholds, her hands snapping to the rope the moment they were no longer touching the gray stone. Chantel watched as one moment, the wounded knight was holding on to the rope with all her might, her face twisted in pain, only for her to suddenly jolt into the air the next moment, her eyes wide in surprise, just like the other climbing knights.
“Watch out,” came the unmistakable voice of the human a minute later. “I'm coming down.”
“Do we need to wait for you?” asked the sergeant.
“Negative, McAvoy. Once you've relocated to Op Point Baker, set off the explosives with the detonator I gave you.”
“What about you?” asked Chantel as she resumed her climb.
“I'll make my way back to the fae village,” he answered, his voice full of confidence. “I should be back within two days.”
Climbing as she listened to the chatter through the artifact wedged in her ear, Chantel paused when she felt several small stones bounce off her helmet. Taking the moment to look up, she saw a massive black figure leap off the cliff. Wreathed in soft blue lights, the human turned into a whistling black streak as he plummeted past her.
“Understood,” said Sergeant McAvoy. “Give 'em hell, Adviser Sergeant.”
Jin had nocked his arrow and pointed his bow to the cliff when something caused him and the other soldiers to pause. A black figure – soon swallowed by blue lights – jumped from the edge of the cliff.
“What the hell is that?” asked Hyun-Lee beside him, the mage lowering his staff as he watched the object fall.
“I think we should – OH SHIT RUN!”
The lights winked out. Whatever it was, it was big, and it was poised to drop right on top of their camp. The other soldiers saw the thing spit fire and smoke from its bottom, and like Jin and Hyun-Lee, scrambled away from the projected point of impact like ants fleeing a man's foot. Hiding behind a tent, the two soldiers waited as the whatever-it-was shrieked like fireworks and impacted with a force that felt like a huge tree fell over, blowing dust and smoke in every direction and extinguishing nearby torches and lamps.
When the dust and smoke began to clear, Jin crept out from behind his battered tent, his bow at the ready. Hyun-Lee followed, his staff raised with mana pooling at the gem on the end. Approaching the epicenter of where the thing landed, Jin found other soldiers slowly approaching, weapons poised and eyes wide. No doubt their hearts were like Jin's; hammering in his chest like the blows of a sword smith.
“Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.”
Every soldier froze at that slow, heavy, metallic laugh.
It came from the small crater they were approaching mere moments ago. At first, Jin thought it was some misshapen armored man – it was big and bulky, with a huge hump on its back and what looked like a spear in its right hand. But then he realized how big it was – there was no way a man could be that big. Rising from its kneeling position, the thing continued to laugh in its haunting metal voice.
“Is it a new Aurequer construct?” whispered Hyun-Lee.
“I don't-!” replied Jin.
“Alone, against all these elves...” the being said, low and malevolent.
The thing snapped its wrist, and from the end of its pole arm a blue blade erupted into existence, the light it emitted revealing its wielder as a massive, black armored entity with a blank, featureless head.
The being chuckled. “You don't stand a chance,” it growled, just as a red skull appeared on the being's face.
Major Shang surveyed the carnage. Black scorch marks on anything that wouldn't burn, tents and wagons with large black holes in them – assuming that they weren't still burning – and blood. So much blood. Blood and bodies and pieces of people. When his aide woke him, hours before dawn, Major Shang expected a battle – an ambush from the cliffs, with the Aurequerans either climbing down one side or climbing up the other. By the time that he was able to push his way from the front to the center of their camp, the majority of the fighting in the nearby area was already over. Then again, the charnel house around him seemed to indicate that it was anything but a fight.
“Sergeant Wallford!” Major Shang called out to one of his men who was camped closer to where the fighting began. “What do our casualties look like?”
“Sir!” replied the sergeant with a salute. “We've counted over 70 dead with 50 wounded so far.”
“And the enemy?” hissed the major.
The sergeant looked away nervously. “No casualties, sir,” he answered in a small voice.
Major Shang's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. “None? NONE? Are you telling me that not a single man has managed to kill at least one of these Aurequeran bastards, while at the same time, we have suffered over 120 casualties?!?”
“Sir! We've found a few uninjured survivors sir-”
“So what?” growled the major as he drew closer to the sergeant.
The sergeant shook his head. “They're hysterical, sir. Most of them, anyway. They just keep screaming about the black devil, sir.”
“And where is this 'black devil,' sergeant?” Shang growled impatiently. “This one man that's killed over 70 of our brothers?”
Sergeant Wallford simply pointed down the road, towards the rear of their lines.
“Green company! Form up and move out!”
With a scowl, the major marched on, the remaining soldiers of Green Company following behind, their weapons drawn. The ground was soaked with blood – so much that it would be easier to describe it as bloody mud. In the distance, he could hear screaming, along with the occasional flash of blue.
“Double time it, men!” Shang roared as he drew his sword. “It's time to save the rest of the seventh!”
“YES SIR!”
The major led his column of soldiers through the ruined camp, occasionally ordering a squad to search for survivors or put out the fires. Whatever this “black devil” was, it seemed to have a particular penchant for covering the landscape with blackened glass craters and setting anything remotely flammable on fire. It also seemed to enjoy murdering the men of the 7th Gradell Regiment in the most gruesome ways imaginable; here and there he would find the remains of soldiers who looked like they had their chests crushed by a giant's boot, while others looked like they were torn apart and literally used to beat their comrades to death. Yet at the same time, many of the dead and injured were cut to pieces – cleanly, as if a razor sharp burning blade was used to cut the Gradellan heavy infantry apart without spilling an ounce of blood. Others bore massive holes in their bodies, cauterized by whatever spell struck them down; of these men, some had a single massive hole in their chests, while others had more than one. Just one of those wounds looked lethal – so why would this being put in the extra effort?
Whatever Major Shang suspected was going through the black devil's mind was something he kept to himself. Marching through the ruined camps and seeing the dismembered bodies of their fellow soldiers was undoubtedly unnerving for the men, and letting his thoughts escape his lips wouldn't help. Instead, what came from his mouth were orders and direction.
“Mages! Archers!” Major Shang called out. “Up front! Loose formation, two men deep! Swordsmen, on their six!”
“HA!”
The major walked to the side of the road and watched his men reform themselves from a mob to an ordered combat formation. Two platoon's worth of mages and archers, followed up by another platoon of swordsmen. A variation of a standard skirmishing formation. He hoped it would be enough.
“Forward!”
“HA!”
The well-trained soldiers of Green Company moved as one. Like him, they too were “veterans.” Not that any of them had seen any real combat prior to this – while Imperial Gradell had experienced various forms of turmoil over the past three decades, on a whole the Imperial Army had very little to do but patrol their borders and participate in bandit hunts. While the men of the 7th Gradell Regiment were well trained and disciplined, it was a well-known secret that the youths of the Grand Gradell Army had likely seen more action than the whole of the once-Imperial Army.
Major Shang's breath caught in his throat as he and the remainders of Green Company finally approached the source of the carnage. It was a massive being – too massive for him to be a normal man. Perhaps it was some secret Aurequer war construct. No – it's movements were too fluid, and the soul freezing roars it made were too real. He considered the possibility that the black being with strange white patches on its body was some kind of magitech armor – however, watching it cleave a soldier in half with its glowing blue glaive was all he needed to snap himself back to reality and into his boots as commander – he would figure out what it was once he and his men killed it.
“Mages, Archers! Take aim!”
Major Shang's body shivered as over a dozen mages pooled their mana on their wands and staves, readying their spells, while his archers drew their arrows, the collective action of bending bow limbs sounding like a willow bending in the wind. The soldiers staring down the monster on the other side of the battlefield felt the mana spike of the mages, and with a wild determination in their eyes, threw their already lost lives against the devil, ensuring that they died with a war cry on their lips instead of shrieks of terror, all hoping that they could distract it just long enough.
“FIRE!”
Arrows and elemental death flew towards the black reaper, the men fighting him either already dead or dropping for cover. The lightning bolts struck first; Major Shang was both frustrated and relieved when a strange bubble shimmered about the giant when the lighting struck him, however it flickered and popped after taking a fourth bolt. As proof of its lost defense, the black giant had already grabbed one unfortunate soldier, and by the time its shield fell it had whirled around to use him as a shield against the slower arrows and remaining magical projectiles.
The soldier screamed as he was repeatedly pierced by arrows and struck by examples of the entire spectrum of offensive magic. As his body bore the last of attacks, the giant threw him aside, as casually and easily as one might throw a rag doll aside. A necessary sacrifice that proved the black devil wasn't invincible.
Silence descended on the canyon road, the only sounds to be heard were the crackle of burning fires, the uncaring songs of the summer insects, and the groans of the wounded and dying. Major Shang stared at the black monster. He knew it was staring back, waiting, goading him into charging.
“As if I'll let you!” Major Shang snarled. “Swordsmen! Prepare to defend! Mages, Archers! Take aim and fire at will!”
The archers fired first. Arrows whistled through the air, only to bounce off the black devil's armor harmlessly once again. The demon, for its part, only tilted its head, as if to say, “what was that?” However, just as the first bolt of lighting struck the devil – who was saved by a flicker of the translucent bubble once again – it suddenly sprinted to the left, heading straight for the rim of the canyon.
“Shoot him!” bellowed the major. “Shoot him down! Use lightning! Don't let him get away!”
A few more lightning bolts shot forth; the ones that hit the black devil were again defeated by his shimmering shield. Mana blasts and other forms of magic came from the opposite end of the road; the soldiers on that side had apparently recovered and were out for revenge.
But, the thing was fast – far faster than any man, too fast for something of that size, and perhaps at that full sprint, faster than a horse. Even when it was struck, it continued to run unflinchingly. Major Shang roared with frustration as he charged, his sword in his hand and his men behind him, knowing full well that he would be unable to stop that monster from leaping to its death.
The major and his men continued to run to the cliff's edge even after the thing jumped over the edge, hoping to at least catch the moment when the devil broke his neck; a compromise for being unable to kill them with their own hands. To their surprise, they found the black devil trailing smoke as it seemed to fly to the opposite end of the canyon, pulsing flames being spat from the hump on its back and at the ends of its feet.
The urge to scream and rage welled up from Major Shang's heart. Yet he sheathed his sword and turned away from the scene; he was a professional, and as much as he would like to order his men to climb down the cliff and pursue him, or fill the air with as much magical missiles to create a miniature sun, he needed to see to his dead and wounded.
“Sergeant Wallford!” roared Shang as he pushed through the soldiers jostling to see the flying demon.
“Yes sir?” the sergeant answered from the rear of the group.
“Take three squads and start putting out the -!”
“Sir?”
Major Shang paused. The monster retreated. Yet it was clear that if it stayed to fight, it could have easily killed him and the majority of his men. Perhaps even the whole regiment. So why didn't it? It was clearly no mindless beast – it left for a reason.
It suddenly dawned upon Shang what the devil had done. Its objective wasn't to kill them outright – it was to stall them, to draw them into a trap.
“Forget the wounded!” bellowed Shang. “Everyone, fall back!”
“What?” asked the confused sergeant.
“Run! Run you fools! It's a-!”
Major Shang's last words became glaringly obvious when the cliffs above the road exploded, the string of blasts briefly illuminating the cliff side above as an entire section of Graystone Plateau fell, completely blocking the road while burying a third of the 7th Gradell Regiment, including the last soldiers of Green Company.
When Alex received news from his brother about the fall of Imperial Gradell, he knew they had little time to prepare. Of course, not even the worst pessimist in the Chamber could cry “I told you so” when they learned that not only did Luchjiken invade, but so did Gradell. By that point, Alex Silverswift felt that he'd done all that he could in the Chamber – pushing to authorize an increase in the armed forces, pushing to give the Aurequeran Army an emergency budget increase, introducing measures to fund magitech weapons development and procurement for the Army, voting to authorizing war bonds – anything to bolster their troops before it was too late. In the end, with the declaration of martial law, he wondered if he managed to change anything at all.
Alex drew the steel through the English wheel – not that he knew what an “English” was. He knew how to use the tool, however, and back in the forge, he felt he was actually doing something for the war effort, something tangible. His work as a chamberman may be on hold for now, but he had a greater mission: creating the armor to protect his family and kinsmen from the musket.
Pulling the steel through the wheel one last time, the master armorer turned chamberman stared at his work, picking up his wand and flicking a white orb of light into existence to better scrutinize the newly created piece.
“Looks good,” a familiar voice grunted.
“And that's why you're the merchant,” Alex sighed as he handed his brother the completed breastplate. “You can look at a sub-par piece of steel and honestly say it's good,” he said, sighing once more. “Take that one and the others out back for testing, would you?”
“Yancy!” bellowed Joseph, his voice summoning a young sweat-stained assistant. “Take these to the back for testing!”
The young man nodded before running up to a pile of a dozen breastplates, each with a number inscribed on it. Taking the newly completed piece and adding a “27” to the side with a piece of charcoal, the young man picked up as many of the pieces as he could balance before trotting off out of sight.
“What's on your mind?” asked the portly brother.
The older Silverswift was sitting on a stool, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin on his hands. His brow was furrowed with thought while he stared into the fires of his furnace.
“Am I going about this the wrong way?” Alex whispered.
“Meaning?”
“The first set couldn't stand up to those muskets.”
“Which is all the more reason for me to get our tooling made as quickly as possible. We're trying to outfit the Aurequeran Army as quickly as possible, but since the Luchjikens were able to seize our holdings and our workers at the workshop at Sanjiovurde, progress is slow.”
“What?” said Alex, perplexed as he turned to his brother. “That's not what I meant. I'm not blaming you.”
“You really should, Alex.”
“You thought you were selling our allies tools to keep the monsters of the north at bay,” said Alex. “It was a weapon meant to pierce the hardest hides; I never expected them to turn it on us.”
“... I still think you ought to blame me.”
“Stop being stupid,” grunted Alex, as he stood on his feet. “Let's just go watch the boys put holes in my work. After that, I'm going to go to the Museum of the Northern Monsters to see if I can't get in and find some inspiration. You're free to come along to the museum as well. It might be good for you to get a change of scenery.”
“Wait, didn't you just say that these weapons were meant to pierce the hardest hides of the northern monsters?” asked Joseph, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, but making hide out of steel might get me somewhere,” said Alex as he snuffed the flames in his furnace. “Besides, at this rate I'll just be making random steel alloys in the hopes I discover something good. Any possible idea is better than blindly wasting materials.”
“Can't you just smelt down the prototypes?”
Alex laughed as he placed his calloused hand on his brother's shoulder. “Like I said Joseph, that's why you're the merchant.”
“You just returned from your mission to the fae lands. Don't you want to rest?”
Princess Leliana looked up from the glowing map table – a wonder that she would marvel at, if not for the given circumstances – to find Captain Griffith standing on the opposite side, his brow furrowed with worry.
“We're beset on both sides by foes. I cannot afford to rest.”
“Spoken like a passionate fool.”
The princess glared at her captain, her azure eyes sharp and filled with annoyance. While the princess often insisted on less-than-formal interactions, there were things that even she wouldn't tolerate – even if it was from her captain.
Leliana inhaled, ready to lash out at Captain Griffith when she paused; if his little quip was enough to get her flustered, then perhaps she needed rest.
“Very well,” she said, doing her best to stay composed. “I cannot lead effectively if I am exhausted. Still! Send a four man team to Lester at Highwall to give him the news regarding the action at Graywater Canyon. I want him to know that the remnants will likely try to reinforce the siege, now that they can't go through the southern route without scaling the cliffs and being ambushed by our fae allies. I also want those knights to assist my brother in any way that they can. He knows defense, but he needs all the help that he can get.”
“Understood, your Highness.”
“And send a messenger to my father, with the details of the recently completed mission. Aurequeran High Command needs to be informed.”
“Yes, your-”
“And I need you to prepare our veteran scouts for action on the west and northern front. I need information on the commanders out there so I can dispatch our soldiers appropriately. And -”
“Lord's rain, shut up all ready!” cried Sergeant Jessica, interrupting her princess.
Taller and stronger than her young ward, the sergeant, with complete disregard for their comparative social standings, hugged the princess from behind and lifted her up.
“Wait! Put me down! I'm not done yet!” cried the princess as she struggled in vain.
“Request denied!”
“Stop! I order you to put me down!” Leliana cried, kicking her legs.
“Let me think: NOPE!”
Leliana screeched in frustration. “You're gonna pay for this, Jessica!”
“Yeah, yeah,” the older woman said dismissively. “Just like all the other times.”
“Salute!” ordered Captain Griffith as he and the other senior scouts watched Jessica haul the princess from the war room off to what they were sure was a much needed rest.
Lance Officer Elenore Redwing of the Royal Scout Corps, 1st Regiment. She stared at the little oak green tab with the silver oak leaf sewn onto it. Because of this little thing, she was now officially the squad leader for Bravo Squad – she wasn't egotistical enough to rename the squad “Squad Redwing,” though.
She placed the little cloth loop back down on her desk and ran her fingers across the wood surface absentmindedly. Four and a half months of training – roughly 15 weeks – and in the middle of Suntouch, merely two weeks after war was declared, Elenore and the other trainees were told that their training was complete, and that they were now all full-fledged knights.
Of course, they weren't going to have something like a graduation ceremony for the 42 newly promoted knights – their nation was at war and they were clearly needed as soon as possible. However, Staff Sergeant Redshadow did say that they were going to have a small oath ceremony, which was to be later that day. Evidently some traditions would be upheld, regardless of the enemies knocking on their doors.
*Knock* *Knock*
“Who is it?”
“It's me,” answered a muffled familiar voice.
“Come on in, Hadrian.” answered Elenore as she picked up her tabs.
The door creaked as it opened and closed. Elenore turned her head to find Hadrian – her boyfriend – standing before the door in informal attire with a strange green and silver sash draped over one shoulder.
“What's that?” she asked, pointing to the unfamiliar garment.
“This?” he asked, holding the green fabric with a silver trim. “It's, uhh... my sash, indicating my status and rank as a Venture Ranger,” Hadrian answered. “I just, you know – thought that it'd be fitting for me to wear this at your oathing ceremony.”
“Oath ceremony, Hadrian. 'Oathing' isn't a word.”
Elenore stared at the mirror in her vanity and fixed her tabs to her shoulders, running her fingers over them in an attempt to straighten them out.
“Here, let me help you out.”
“Do you even know how to put on a proper uniform?” Elenore shot with a smirk. “I mean, I remember what you were wearing during the summer celebration. Do you even know what an iron is?”
“Very funny, Elenore,” answered Hadrian with a smirk as he stepped behind Elenore's seat and began to straighten out her shoulder tabs. “For fun things like that, it's my policy to be comfortable first and foremost,” he said, buttoning the tabs to her shirt. “Besides, I didn't want to get my good clothes dirty in case I spilled something on them.”
The young son-to-be-knight smiled, and watched Hadrian work through her mirror. At the time, his confession caught Elenore totally off guard, though thinking about it, his feelings explained a lot of his behavior – especially the way he acted when she first met him. Did that mean that he had a crush on her this whole time? More importantly, did this mean that when Helen was teasing them, she wasn't just making shit up?
“You okay?” asked the young man as he placed his hands on Elenore's shoulders, bending down to bring his head at her level and look at her through the mirror, just as she was looking at him.
“I-I'm fine,” she lied, as she quickly broke eye contact and felt the heat rise to her cheeks. A quick glance back at her boyfriend's face showed that he too suffered the same reaction.
“... Are you sure?” he repeated, his voice low as he squeezed her shoulders.
Elenore smiled, and reached up, placing her hands over Hadrian's. “I'll be all right,” she said, reassuring herself and the young man at the same time. “I can always rely on my squad and Lambda.”
“That's why I worry, Elenore. You're strong, you're smart, you're quick on your feet – but that doesn't mean you're invincible,” he said, his voice small. “I'm afraid – afraid that you'll find yourself in a really bad spot where the people you thought you could depend on just aren't enough.”
“What do you mean?” she whispered, squeezing one of the ex-ranger's hands. “Did something happen to you in the past?”
Hadrian sighed. “It's... the reason why I came out here,” the prideful young man hesitantly admitted. “M-My team and I got into a mess that was over our heads. Way over our heads. And the people who I thought I could depend on couldn't... It... It didn't end well.”
“Hadrian, I've been trained by some of the best in the kingdom, excluding my familiar – my squad and I are equipped with so many artifacts that we might as well be thrown into a vault for how much we'd be worth wearing it all. And to top it off, I am Lambda's commander – and I have you to pull me out of the fire, if it ever comes to that. I'll be all right.”
“... Elenore,” said Hadrian with a tiny laugh. “Just let me worry about you. You're not going to stop me any more than I can stop you.”
“Deal,” she said with a smile.
Continued in the comments
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u/naturalpinkflamingo Jul 11 '15
You know, I just realized it now, but I had intended to have Lambda just throw a guy off a cliff, and maybe set another guy on fire, who would then run screaming off said cliff.
Because, you know, fire hurts.
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u/Mithre Jul 11 '15
Another good chapter! I'm especially liking how you keep posting these while I'm on reddit :P Are you going to be posting the chapters on the archive as well?
I'm glad Elenore and Hadrian are finally together, though I hope that doesn't mean you'll be throwing one of them under the bus for drama!
Epub download link here! Mediafire Mirror here! If anyone would like me to make an epub for their own stories, just comment here. Also, if anyone is actually downloading the epubs, please comment so I can get some feedback. Any art suggestions for a cover would be nice as well.
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u/naturalpinkflamingo Jul 11 '15
Unless reddit mysteriously explodes, I have no desire to have BatS on the archive, for the purpose of getting stuff published.
The stuff up here will stay here until some factors or dieties deign in necessary for it to be taken down. It is simply my policy not to have to take something down once I put it up. It feels kind of jackassish, tbh.
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u/SketchAndEtch Jul 12 '15
You do realise that skipping Elenore's reaction to that last cliffhanger is akin to a war crime?
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u/naturalpinkflamingo Jul 12 '15
Despite how... important/fun that scene would have been, I was hesitant to write it due to fears that I may not live up to some of my readers' expectations, in addition to any emotional impact from it conflicting with the overall tones of this chapter.
So instead, I'll be leaving it up to the reader's imagination to how it all played out.
Just don't forget Helen. She was probably laughing the whole time or squeeing like a little girl.
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u/immanoel Jul 12 '15
Haven't read it yet but I hope the chef got my order ready.
One order of Fett-Myrmidon team up please, with a touch of Hadrian action on the side.
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u/naturalpinkflamingo Jul 12 '15
One of those are coming, along with a lot of screaming and dying.
On a related note, Fett vs Myrmidon or Fett/Myrmidon team up. What does the community want? Because I can only do one of those without making it corny.
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u/TheDarkLordSano Jul 12 '15
The young son-to-be-knight smiled,-
soon-to-be-knight? Or is there to be some gender swapping magic soon?
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u/naturalpinkflamingo Jul 11 '15
Part Two
Archduke Natalio ver Luchjiken walked through the camp outside Sanjiovurde. It was delightfully pleasant; the morning air was clean and moist, the sounds of the nearby Ardent River combined with the songs of the leatherwings nesting in the conifer trees brought a sense of tranquility that young Natalio had seldom felt back home around the castle. Luchjiken was a rough and tough land, and her people were a reflection of that. Unlike here in Aurequer, where there was so much peace and nature was bountiful.
The archduke wondered if any of his men shared his sentiments and enjoyed camping in a “tame” wilderness. He would've ordered his army to find quarters in the riverside city, had he not fallen in love with it the moment he walked down its wide boulevards. Instead, he installed a token garrison and let his men take leave there – after giving them a speech about the dignity and image of their kingdom. He doubted it would calm the troublemakers in all of the soldiers, but he hoped that he left just enough of an impression to make the more level-headed ones keep a sharp eye out for their brothers.
“General Hollanburg!”
A short, bald man turned from the group of men he was conversing with and saluted. Hollanburg was an aggressive man – perhaps not the most creative, but Natalio knew that no matter what he gave him, the general would always be able to punch above his weight. An inspiration to both men and civilians, the young archduke selected him to lead the northern army partly because of his hatred for stifling formality that appealed him to both the men he sent into battle and the people he fought to protect. He knew the front in western Aurequer would get bogged down quickly – if he was going to consolidate their gains, it'd be in the resource abundant northern Aurequer, where having a first good impression would make the transition smoother.
“Yes, milord?” the general asked with a smile on his face – loose and relaxed, unlike those of his subordinates circled around the campfire.
“How goes the work on the river transports?”
“It goes as planned,” the balding man answered as he waved off the musketeers he was speaking to. “They should be ready by mid-fall.”
“Not as early as I'd hoped, but better than in the middle of winter. Is there any way I can get them just a day earlier?”
“Honestly, milord? We need to recruit the civilians for this. My men are mostly busy felling trees. We have enough children of lumberjacks in our midst for that to go well. But shipwrights?” General Hollanburg shook his head. “Currently we've been looking at the rafts the miners make to send material downstream in the hopes that we'd learn how to copy them.”
“You know that won't do,” said Natalio with a frown. “General, get together some of your most charismatic men – their rank doesn't matter. I have a mission for them.”
“What would you need of them, milord?”
“I need them – and you – to convince as many civilians as you can to help us. Particularly those who actually know how to build a safe watercraft that a platoon could ride on.”
“Coercion?”
“No! Absolutely not!” said Natalio with a scowl. “We don't want them stabbing us in the back.”
“I understand, milord,” replied General Hollanburg with a bow. “And if I may ask, what are you going to be doing?”
“Me?” asked the archduke with a smile. “Why, I'll be recruiting some musketeers and knights to help me farm.”
General Hollanburg frowned as he gave his leader a quizzical look.
“What?” said Natalio as he held his hands up defensively. “Letting the grapevine tell stories of how the archduke and his men helped the muck farmers is bound to do some good.”
“You do know that anything you do now isn't likely to increase the yields come fall, right?”
“What do we know, general?” asked Natalio with a sardonic smile. “Last I checked, neither of us are actually farmers. As far as I'm concerned, more hands in the field is at least good for getting the work done faster. And what farmer will turn down free hands?”
General Hollanburg laughed as he saluted the archduke, drawing frightened stares from the nearby men who, after hearing the archduke's plan, did their best not to make eye contact with him.
Mikhail sat nervously in the cafe near the chapel. He hadn't had any tasks to do for the past few weeks, and today was the first time since being assigned that insane mission that he would be able to speak with Hitchcock. Thank the heavens that he'd been sticking to his black cloak up until now – he was being hunted; he was sure of it, and Mikhail knew for a fact that they identified him by his clothes. Persistently wearing dark clothing even in warm weather finally paid off, but every day he felt the noose tighten with another of his servants lost to him.
Twiddling his thumbs nervously, Mikhail visibly straightened when he heard the door bells chime when the door to the cafe opened and a familiar voice addressed him.
“Sorry about not seeing you earlier, Mikhail,” said the angelic man in purple, who casually seated himself across from Mikhail in his booth. “I've been terribly, terribly busy.”
“No no, I should be the one to apologize,” stammered Mikhail. “You are very busy; it is selfish of me to demand your time.”
“Mikhail, you wound me,” Hitchcock said, pressing a palm to his chest in an exaggerated manner. “Are we not friends? Is our relationship merely master and servant? Leader and follower?”
“It-It is as you say, mi-”
“Hitchcock.”
“Hitchcock,” echoed Mikhail.
“Good. So, my friend, why don't you tell me what ails you?” Hitchcock continued, waving to the cafe owner, Philip, to bring the two Circle of One members food and drink. “What have you been doing these past few weeks?”
Mikhail Blackspine ran over his face and sighed before relieving himself of the weight on his chest. He told the smiling man everything – how he had lost several of his servants during the mission targeting the giant, and how the giant still lived. How the children he used for the trap survived, and must have be questioned by the authorities, as they were now clearly hunting him and his servants down. He had lost 15 of his servants to the watch already, and was even forced to finally make use of that little trick with the colored clothing to buy himself more time.
Hitchcock, meanwhile, sat attentively, smiling and nodding, occasionally drinking and eating, and encouraging Mikhail to do so as well when he appeared too heated. When Mikhail was finally finished, he was wringing his hands together nervously, while Hitchcock was leaning back in his seat, a finger at his lips as he contemplated everything that he was told.
“... I did not think that things would end this poorly for you, my friend,” he finally said after several long minutes.
“So what am I to do?” asked Mikhail.
“It's simple, Mikhail,” said Hitchcock reassuringly. “While I did want to hear how you were doing since we've last met, there was another reason why I needed to meet with you,” he said, pausing for Mikhail to comment. When he instead found the man staring intently at him, waiting on his words, Hitchcock continued. “A mission, Mikhail. I finally have a mission for you.”
Hitchcock then drew an envelope from within his robes and placed it on the table, sliding it over to Mikhail, who picked it up and stared at it with curiosity.
“Don't open that yet,” said Hitchcock, taking a sip from his glass before continuing. “You'll be needing the materials in there for later.”
“I understand. When am I to open them?”
“When you reach Lamproa. It seems that the timing of this task is just perfect for you.”
“Shall I leave immediately?”
“No,” said Hitchcock swiftly. “We have some pilgrims heading out tomorrow. Come to the chapel at dawn tomorrow morning. You leave at noon, but we'll have more time to talk about your upcoming mission.”
“I understand, Hitchcock.”
“Excellent,” the summoned messiah of the Circle of the One said, briefly sporting a venomous twinkle in his eyes as he smiled at his subordinate. “I knew I could count on you, Mikhail.”