by Pirateaba
Heads turned as Relc waved his mug and shouted from his table. By his side, Olesm slouched down as the Humans glared at Relc. Both Drakes had come up from the city, but Relc was in a substantially worse mood than Olesm.
“Got something against Humans, have you?”
Seborn looked at Relc. The Drake nodded. He had a bruise on his arm, his scales faintly discolored. It was the first injury Erin could ever remember seeing Relc having, outside of when he’d fought Gazi.
“Sure do, fish guy! I had to break up four brawls of adventurers today. Four! You Humans cause too much trouble! At least when Drakes fight, they break it up when the Watch comes. But noooo…you Humans always fight back!”
“Probably because they’re not used to [Guardsmen] who are actually competent. Most of the ones in the northern cities are barrel-scrapings, not fit to be Bronze-rank adventurers.”
Revi spoke up from her table, eliciting a glare from Halrac and Ulrien and putting her squarely in the ‘not Human’ camp in the room. Erin watched the arguments with half an eye, although she thought it wouldn’t come to actual violence, especially when Lyonette circulated with another tray of drinks. She was getting good.
“Hey Erin, about what I was going to tell you…”
Olesm caught Erin as she was serving tonight’s dish, a spicy vegetable soup, mixed with some rather wonderful fried dino-bird that Bird had shot the other day. Erin slid into a seat as Olesm talked excitedly.
“I was sending some copies of your chess game around, and I had a lengthy correspondence with a famous [Strategist] from one of the Walled Cities! Well, I say famous…he’s not exactly the most shiny scale around, but he’s well-known and guess what? He wants to come here and play a game of chess with you, Erin! Here!”
“What? No way!”
“Yeah! I told him—well, I told him I’d ask you, but do you think—”
“I’d love to! Anytime! But wait, I barely have time to play…and I haven’t in such a long time! I’m rusty! Quick, let’s play a game.”
Erin and Olesm fussed over a chess board while Ryoka wandered over to a corner of the inn. She’d spotted someone fly in at some point, and sure enough, Ivolethe was eating an egg while perched on Mrsha’s head.
Just an egg. She’d cracked part of the bottom and was sucking the insides out. There was something disgusting about the tiny faerie eating that way, and Ryoka didn’t look too closely as she squatted down. Mrsha immediately moved over to sit next to Ryoka as the girl spoke to Ivolethe.
“Where have you been, then?”
Ivolethe licked some yolk off of her arm and looked archly at Ryoka.
“Away. I do not hover about ye all the time, Ryoka Griffin.”
“Fine, be obstinate. I just wanted to say that Mrsha and I—yes, you, Mrsha—are going to visit a friend in a day or two. She lives on a farm.”
“Ah, friendship.”
Ryoka waited for Ivolethe to say something biting, but the faerie just paused. Ryoka looked at her.
“You down for a visit, or will you be going somewhere else?”
Ivolethe shook her head.
“I will come. And it is good you will be going away for a day or two. I think it is time I taught you something. The winter will end soon, Ryoka. And when it does, so too shall we part.”
“Oh. Right.”
Ryoka hadn’t been thinking about that. Rather deliberately. She stared at Ivolethe.
“You mean you think you can teach me magic? We haven’t gotten around to it. And I didn’t really manage to learn much when you tried before. But you think I can really learn how to run like the wind?”
The faerie was silent as she tossed the empty egg over her shoulder. It flew surprisingly far and high and bounced off of Ksmvr’s head.
“I do not know. But I think…”
Ryoka watched Ivolethe carefully.
“Yes?”
The faerie nodded slowly. She smiled wickedly.
“Yes, I think it will be entertaining for me.”
She grinned at Ryoka, and the young woman bared her teeth in reply.
Across the inn, as Ksmvr stared at the eggshell and wondered aloud where it had come from, and then promptly asked Pisces to explain, Erin sat with Olesm and talked about her door.
“It’s so cool! Ryoka says she could take a portal-door-thingy to Invrisil and then I could go there and back any time I wanted! Okay, I could only go like once a day and then come back, but if I bought a mana potion or something…Pisces says he could fuel the door with his own mana to make it charge faster!”
Olesm was sweating over the chess board, tail lashing furiously. Relc looked bored as he watched them play.
“Invrisil. Hah. Why’s everyone want to go there?”
“Well, Ryoka knows some people there and it sounds really cool. It’s one of the biggest cities on the continent!”
“One of the biggest Human cities.”
Relc folded his arms. Erin looked at him as she took one of Olesm’s knights and he covered his face in despair.
“What’s wrong with that? I want to go to a cool city. So what if it’s Human?”
Olesm looked up.
“But you don’t have to. You could go to one of the biggest Human cities on the continent…or a Drake city. You could reach one of the Walled Cities from here, Erin.”
“Yeah!”
Relc pounded a fist on the table, and then held out for Olesm to gingerly tap.
“Scales over skin! Whoops, sorry, Erin. Why not Drakes? Give us a chance!”
“Really? A Walled City?”
Erin had never gone south from Liscor. Neither had Ryoka. She had no idea what was south of Liscor, what things looked like. Ryoka had said she’d gone to a mountainous place, a forest, the Blood Fields…but never a city.
“The Walled Cities are amazing, Erin. I think you’d love to visit. Why not try and get a teleporting door there? I’m sure a lot of people from Liscor would pay good money to travel back and forth as well.”
Relc was nodding as Olesm spoke. Then he sat up, scratching at the spines on his head.
“Home, huh? That reminds me, what with this dungeon thing…I was thinking about it after that stupid Gazi kicked my tail a while back. But I really need to get my spear back.”
Olesm and Erin looked at Relc. Erin pointed silently to the spear the Drake had leaned against the wall near his table. Relc waved his tail at it dismissively.
“Not that. That’s just an ordinary spear, Erin! I mean my spear, my enchanted spear! I had it back when I was a [Sergeant] in army. But I had to leave it when I left. Stupid rules…but I think I need it to handle all these monsters and stupid Human adventurers.”
He glanced across the room at Ryoka, who was tossing Mrsha up and catching her, much to the Gnoll’s delight. He nodded at her and spoke conspiratorially to Erin.
“Think your runner friend could go to one of the Walled Cities for me, Erin? For maybe, a discount? I need to send a message to the army.”
“Which army?”
“Liscor’s! Duh.”
Relc snorted.
“They’re fighting around one of the Walled Cities, last I heard. Well, they’re always fighting. I don’t know where they are exactly, but I bet anyone could tell your Runner friend. She looks familiar, by the way. Have I met her before? Ah, well, you Humans…anyways. It would only take like…a week or two? She’d be back in no time, I bet, especially if you give her one of those teleporting things.”
Erin stared at him. Olesm stared at him. Relc looked around innocently.
“One week? Come on. It’s not like it would take months. No? Fine. I guess I’ll go bug Hawk.”
The last visitor to the inn dropped by long after Mrsha had figured out how to throw up in midair and Ryoka had learned why tossing children and engaging in vigorous exercise around dinner time was a bad idea. Bird wandered into the inn and was immediately accosted by Erin.
“Bird! Guard! Bird House! I pay, you shoot! Birds! Bird!”
It took a while for him to understand what Erin was getting at, but when he realized what Erin was suggesting, Bird was ecstatic.
“I am ecstatic. Is that the word?”
“Yes! Oh, Bird, it’ll be great! You can have your own room, you can shoot birds, I can cook birds, Mrsha and Lyonette can be safe and you can stop her from running off without supervision—”
Mrsha, recovered and eating more food, gave Bird a wary look. He gave the Gnoll cub an ever warier look, but nodded at Erin.
“Revalantor Klbkch has informed me of my duties. I would be happy to accept.”
Erin smiled at him.
“That’s great. Everything’s so great! Oh, by the way, is Pawn around? I heard he was trying to talk to me earlier, but I didn’t get a chance to see him. What did he want?”
Bird looked confused. He scratched his head, and then remembered. He replied cheerfully.
“Ah yes. I remember now. Pawn was to be assigned to combat duty with the group of Soldiers under his command today. He wished to speak with Erin and talk with her in case he perished later.”
It was like a spell. Everyone that heard Bird went instantly silent. Only Relc and the Halfseekers across the room hadn’t heard. Relc was laughing loudly at Jelaqua and challenging her to a drinking match when he realized the room had gone still. He turned and looked at Bird as Erin put a hand over her mouth. Bird looked confused as he stared around. He shrugged.
“What? He said it was only a possibility.”
4.13 L
Once upon a time there was a Worker. He had no name. He had no future. He had been born to work, and he knew he would die. If not today, then tomorrow.
He would die while working. A chance fall from the top of a building while carrying lumber might be his end, or perhaps in a freak monster attack. He might die when fighting to defend his Hive, or if a tunnel collapsed due to an earthquake or flood.
And if he survived that, he would die when he grew old. When he grew slower he would be given jobs fitting his station. But at some point he would be too slow, too weary. And then he would walk into the jaws of a monster, or curl up and stop breathing. That was what the Worker knew.
And he didn’t mind. Because all routes led to death in the end, he did not worry about his fate. He was part of his Hive. If his Queen could live a fraction of a second longer, or his Hive prosper by the sum of one more copper coin, he would die fulfilled.
So he thought. And then one day, he met a girl named Erin Solstice. And she asked him if he had a name. The question had broken him into pieces. A simple question, but one that asked the Worker things he had never thought of, things he had no answers for.
He might have fallen. He might have become an Aberration. But he did not. He found a name in despair and found something else to live for besides his Queen. He found he was no longer a Worker, and he realized he was afraid of dying. He chose a name.
That was then. Now Pawn was something else. Not just a [Tactician] or [Carpenter] or [Butcher], but something that defined him. He had a class that was unique to him, something no one else had. He was an [Acolyte]. The first of his kind.
He was also a leader. It was not the same as [Tactician], no. For a [Tactician] only thought of the world in terms of loss and gain. They could command, but their Skills and nature did not inspire.
Pawn led Soldiers, the huge, silent guardians of the Hive. He had hundreds of them under his command, each one a killing machine. They didn’t have hands. Their fists were designed for murder, for tearing and pounding force, not to hold things. They had less future than that of a Worker, for they would live and die in their Hive, fighting against threats with their short lifespans.
They were fierce, loyal, unwavering. Pawn did not deserve to command one of them, but he had no choice. He had been given a position of power, so Pawn had learned to lead. He had lives of Soldiers under his authority, and he had unwillingly accepted the trust they had placed in him. He was no true general, no gifted visionary, but he had a duty. So Pawn learned. He learned what to say when he held a dying Soldier in his arms.
And he learned how to give them hope. Because that was what the Antinium needed. Hope. A dream. Faith that there was something worth dying for. The Hive wasn’t enough. Not at all. The Queen wasn’t enough. What they needed was light.
So Pawn took the Soldiers who had lived their lives in darkness. He took them out of the Hive. And showed them the sky.
—-
A few desultory snowflakes drifted down from grey skies above Liscor. A cold wind blew. Not a fell wind, or a chill wind—just cold. It wasn’t a wind that could scourge flesh or scale from bone or freeze extremities in an instant. It was just cold. And unpleasant. The Drakes and Gnolls and Humans walking down the street moved quickly to be out of the wind and weather. They were sick of winter, and wanted it to be over already.
But the Antinium marching down the streets stared up at the sky and marveled. The Soldiers walked with uniform alertness behind Pawn, drawing heads and clearing the street as they marched down it. Drakes and Gnolls alike got out of the way, eyeing the Soldiers a bit warily, but without fear.
The Humans were less circumspect. Twice already, Pawn had seen a group of Humans scream and run, or reach for their weapons. Both times he had resolved the situation, but the Humans made him uneasy. He couldn’t predict how they’d act.
The Drakes and Gnolls on the other hand, the citizens of Liscor, were easier. They just watched the Antinium warily, but the Soldiers Pawn led through the streets towards the eastern gates were accepted by now. Perhaps even liked?
No. No, not liked. Pawn sighed as he watched one of the Soldiers stare up at a cloud and then snap his head down and keep walking. It was a good sign. The Soldiers were too careful to stop paying attention, but these new ones had never seen the sky, let alone snow or people. Pawn knew they were staring while pretending not to. And he didn’t mind. They would have a chance to stare as long as they liked today.
“Left here.”
He indicated a street, and the Soldiers instantly filed after him, surprising a family of Gnolls. They backed away, but Pawn immediately halted to let them move past the Antinium.
“Hrr. Thank you.”
The father—or mother—bowed her head to Pawn and he inclined his. The Gnolls stepped quickly around the Soldiers, half of whom stared at the furry Gnolls. And the Gnolls stared back. One of the three children of the family of five, the youngest, sniffed at a Soldier’s leg and then hurried away as his parent snapped at him. It was another good sign, Pawn decided.
“Resume marching. Be careful of pedestrians.”
Pawn began walking and his Soldiers immediately fell into step behind him. The Antinium marched down the street, pausing to let a wagon go past as the [Driver] stared down at the Antinium. He had no words for Pawn or the Soldiers, but that was good too.
Because it meant Liscor was getting used to Pawn’s daily patrols.
At first, Pawn had encountered fear, suspicion, and downright hostility as he’d brought his group of Soldiers through the streets and out the gates. Despite Watch Captain Zevara and Klbkch assuring the residents of Liscor that these Antinium were not dangerous, they had feared Pawn and his group almost as much as the rumors of Goblin armies or Rock Crabs.
At first. But each day, Pawn had come back, his Soldiers carrying dead Shield Spiders, Corusdeer carcasses, and other proof of their victories against the dangerous creatures roaming around Liscor. That was all they did. They went out, patrolled the landscape, and came back with spoils that were turned into meat for [Butchers], armor for [Blacksmiths], ingredients for [Alchemists], and so on.
And the city had accepted them. Slowly, but surely, the people had realized that Pawn’s group of Soldiers were there to help. They had already known Klbkch, the Antinium with a name. He was recognized as a reliable, if odd Senior Guardsman, and, it was said, the only person who could put up with Relc or survive his escapades. So instead of people fleeing the A
ntinium when they appeared or screaming for the Watch, they just watched.
And then Pawn had begun painting his Soldiers, or rather, letting them paint themselves. It was their identity, and perhaps the single greatest idea Pawn had ever had. Perhaps the greatest idea any Worker had ever had, come to that. Because the Soldiers could not speak. They could not name themselves and Pawn had agonized over that fact. How could they be remembered without an identity, especially because they all looked the same, even to Pawn?
With paint. That was how. The paint was thick, water-resistant, and Pawn had bought enough of it from Krshia to let the Soldiers reapply it to their armored carapaces whenever they wanted. And he had let them paint themselves. So each Soldier that walked behind Pawn stood out. And the people noticed.
“There they are again. Damn bugs.”
A group of elderly Drakes sat at a table outside of one of the taverns, watching the Antinium wait for a wagon to be unloaded. They could move past, but Pawn didn’t want to spook the Drakes and Gnolls who were working. They were already moving double-time to get out of the Soldiers’ way.
In the meantime, the Drakes who’d taken issue with the Soldiers talked, and Pawn listened to them complain. They were old. Their scales were discolored in places by age and faded by time. These old Drakes often sat outside, Pawn knew. They seemed unaffected by the cold, or perhaps it was because they sipped spicy alcoholic beverages in the morning. They always had something to say about the Soldiers, too.
“Every day that Worker brings them this way. Now they’re blocking my view of the street too. Ruins my morning.”
“What morning? You barely wake up before noon.”
“Shut up, Shadowspine. I rise at the crack of dawn—”
“Hah!”
“—at the crack of dawn I say, and if I have to crane my neck every time a band of those black giants passes by—”
“You barely turn your head when your grandchildren come by. You’re just sore because I won five silver from you last night over dice.”
