The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  “It was a bad toss! You barely rattled the dice around, you cheating—”

  Two of the Drakes sitting at the table began arguing and throwing things at each other. They bickered loudly as Pawn passed by. But another of the Drakes sitting at the table, an old female Drake with grey-green scales peered intently at the group of Soldiers.

  “There he is. See?”

  “What?”

  The two arguing male Drakes turned their heads. The female Drake smiled.

  “The one with yellow paint. See? I saw him yesterday.”

  Pawn didn’t have to look to know which Soldier she was talking about. One of the Soldiers marching behind him had yellow splatters of paint all over his carapace, as if someone had thrown globs of paint at him. In fact, that was exactly what had happened.

  The old Drakes stared at the Soldier in question. One of them, the alleged cheater, coughed and grumbled.

  “So? He looks silly. What did that one do, trip and knock paint all over himself?”

  “Hush.”

  The other Drake turned and flicked her tail, smacking the speaker in the chest with her tail. Pawn was impressed. Drakes had a good amount of control over their tails, but this old Drake seemed quite adept with hers.

  “I like him.”

  “Pah! That’s all you know, Shivertail.”

  The old Drake that apparently woke up at the crack of dawn cast his eyes across the group of Soldier. He pointed.

  “There! That one’s far better.”

  Every head in the group of Drakes turned to stare at the individual the Drake had pointed at. His chest and back was bare, but his arms and legs had been painted with purple slashes of color running from his shoulder down to his legs.

  “Now that’s war paint.”

  “Bah. What about that one?”

  The cheating Drake pointed and Pawn saw he was looking at a Soldier who’d drawn a pair of eyes on his shoulders. It was unsettling how they seemed to stare at anyone the Soldier faced. But the elderly Drake seemed to approve.

  “That’s proper art, that is. If you two knew anything about color, you’d be admiring him, or the one with the bird on his face.”

  “Is that what it is? Who paints their face? That’s plain odd.”

  “Bah. When I was a young [Soldier]—”

  “Here we go again.”

  “Silence! When I fought in the army as part of the elite scouting division—”

  “You mean, glorified rangers?”

  “—we hunted in groups, wearing war paint to demoralize the enemy! Anyone who saw our colors fled in fear or begged for their lives—”

  “Didn’t you lot get routed by a single Gnoll tribe?”

  “They had the terrain advantage! But mark me, if we’d been fighting on neutral ground—”

  The wagon rumbled out of the way and Pawn continued marching. The arguing Drakes’ voices faded into the background noise, but Pawn’s smile did not.

  Identity. Each of his Soldiers had it now. It wasn’t just elderly Drake grandmothers who watched out for a particular Soldier. Some of the other citizens noticed when a particular Soldier went past. It was like a game. The Antinium had been faceless and identical for so long that now there was a way to tell them apart, people were beginning to pay attention.

  The Antinium group left the city, walking past the [Guardsmen] who watched the group with no visible signs of wariness. Pawn looked around and saw snow-covered hilltops, and a distinct lack of detail. So he pointed in a random direction, towards a mountain peak that looked somewhat inviting.

  “We shall patrol in this direction. At a leisurely pace. Follow me.”

  He began to walk. Not march, but walk. The Soldiers nearly ran Pawn over before they realized how slow he was moving. Over half of this group hadn’t ever been outside, and so they didn’t know how the patrol went.

  Pawn proceeded up a hill, down a hill, and then around a hill because he was getting bored of walking up the incline. He set a pace slow enough that the Soldiers could get their fill of staring. Because they would stare, Pawn knew. They would stare at the snow, the sky, and watch a bird until it died of boredom if he let them. It wasn’t because the Soldiers were that simple, either. It was because they had never seen any of these things, and so the experience was precious and wonderful to them.

  In that, Pawn envied the Soldiers. They could find so much meaning in a blade of grass. Too much, in fact. Pawn had learned to start the Soldiers off slow, get them out of the city and patrolling the boring landscape around Liscor for a few hours. Because that was all the stimulation the Soldiers could handle. Only after that would Pawn work them up to getting back in the city, staring at flowers, fire, and eating.

  Food was one of the highlights of the day for Pawn, and probably the most important experience he could give the Soldiers. Instead of the horrible paste they ate, each one would get a meal courtesy of Lyonette, or more recently, Erin.

  Erin. Pawn stopped and let the Soldiers covertly bend down and feel at the snow. Erin was back. He hadn’t had time to talk to her, but she was back. That filled Pawn with countless emotions, relief being first among them. She was back.

  He hadn’t gotten a chance to speak with her much, of course. Erin was always busy and so was Pawn. He didn’t like to bother her. Pawn had his life and Erin…was surely too busy to always be looking after him. He had Soldiers to lead now. And not only that…

  He had a faith, as well. Pawn was an [Acolyte]. He could pray. He had no god, but he believed in heaven. And it was that faith that gave him a class and Skills no one else had.

  Once, Pawn had told the Soldiers about heaven. They had believed in it like he had, and killed themselves to go there, rather than stay. But that was not the way. Pawn had known it. So he had told the Soldiers to stay, to build a heaven for the Antinium while they lived. Because there was no heaven for the Antinium. There was a god—one for the religion of Christianity, for Humans, that Erin had told Pawn about. But none for the Antinium.

  So Pawn would make a heaven for his people, for the Workers and Soldiers. He just had to figure out how.

  After a while, Pawn began walking again. The Soldiers fell in. He walked over a hill, down a hill, into a Shield Spider’s nest—

  The Soldiers jumped in after Pawn and he got out with only a bite on his arm, barely fracturing his carapace. Pawn shakily climbed out of the pit as the Soldiers began smashing the Shield Spiders to bits.

  “Ah…very good. Thank you.”

  There was danger out in the area around Liscor. Not a patrol went by when Pawn didn’t have his Soldiers fight something or other. But not a single Soldier had died on these patrols, not one. Pawn was proud of that. The Rock Crabs, the fearsome scuttling giant boulders, were no match for the Antinium en masse. The Soldiers would just hold the Rock Crab’s shell down and break through the top with brute force, killing the surprised crustacean from above while it was pinned down.

  Soldiers didn’t fight fair. They didn’t fight dirty either. They just fought. The Soldiers probably would have been astounded to learn there was a way to fight fair. They had been born to kill, and they did that quite efficiently.

  Pawn watched as a Soldier kicked a Shield Spider into the air. The armored spiders were a considerable threat, worthy of a Silver-rank team or more dangerous in larger nests. Their armor could resist sword cuts, and they had terribly dangerous bites. A normal warrior would be hard-pressed to kill one, even with a mace or axe.

  But the Soldiers were strong. One picked up a Shield Spider and held it as it struggled. Another Soldier hit it repeatedly as the other Soldier held it until the Spider’s center burst. Pawn looked away. Then he looked back sharply as something strange happened.

  A Soldier had been striking down at a particularly large and aggressive Shield Spider. It had bitten into his legs, sending trickles of green blood out of the wounds. Pawn would have ordered someone to help, but the Soldier suddenly paused as the Shield Spider reared up, trying to bite at
his face. The Soldier seemed to hesitate—and then one of his hands blurred.

  It was an uppercut, but at a speed that nearly escaped Pawn’s vision to see. The blow caught the Shield Spider as it was rearing and knocked its head off. Literally. Pawn flinched as bits flew out of the pit. The headless Shield Spider collapsed and the Soldier stared at his fist.

  Every other Soldier in the pit stared too. Pawn stared as well. He jumped down into the pit and walked over to the Soldier, who flinched.

  “Was that a Skill?”

  The Soldier stood at attention, silent. Pawn stared at him. This Soldier was the one with the yellow spatters the Drake grandmother had found so interesting. He had patrolled with Pawn several times before.

  “Did you use a Skill?”

  The Soldier stared down at Pawn. The Worker couldn’t read what was behind his eyes, but he had grown used to the Soldiers by now. He thought the Soldier seemed…nervous? Could Soldiers feel fear? But then the Soldier nodded hesitantly.

  “A Skill.”

  Pawn exhaled, clicking his mandibles together. One of his Soldiers had learned an activated Skill? That meant…they had leveled up! Pawn knew the Soldiers might, but to realize it now…

  “What level are you? No—what class? Is there a way to tell? Ah, but…you do not know how to write and your fingers…”

  Pawn stared at the Soldier as he looked down at Pawn. He seemed nervous for all that he was bigger, and stronger than Pawn. The Worker nodded at last, and the Soldier flinched as Pawn looked at him.

  “Good work.”

  All of the Soldiers stared. Pawn looked around.

  “If you have Skills, do not hesitate to use them. But please do not risk yourselves.”

  He pointed to the Soldier’s lacerated legs.

  “We will stop the bleeding before continuing. The rest of you, clean up the corpses. We will collect them on the way back.”

  The Soldiers paused, and then got to work. Pawn had the Soldier with yellow splatters sit and stopped the bleeding with cold snow and some strips of linen he’d purchased with his limited supply of coin. The Worker apologized, because he hadn’t been allowed to use the Hive’s supply of healing potions on Soldiers.

  But he cared. And that was why the Soldiers followed him. Because even if Pawn didn’t know it, he had given them a purpose. He had given them identity, shown them the sky. He had given them something to believe in, and so they followed him. Each one would die for him.

  But Pawn didn’t know that. All he knew was what it was another day. Another fine day, where none of his Soldiers had died. And it would have been a fine day tomorrow, where he did the same thing again. It would have been, but Klbkch summoned him the instant he returned to the Hive.

  —-

  “Combat duty?”

  Pawn sat in Klbkch’s small office, a dirt room filled with a table and two chairs. And a coatrack which held no coats. Only a single scarf. Klbkch looked up from his desk where he was busy writing something down and nodded briefly.

  “That is correct. Do I need to repeat myself?”

  “No. It is just that—why me? Why now?”

  Pawn stared at Klbkch as the other Antinium clicked his mandibles sharply together in irritation and pushed his papers aside. Pawn felt nervous as Klbkch regarded him over the desk.

  He was afraid of the other Antinium. Klbkch may have been the Revalantor of the Hive, and the former Prognugator, both a unique role for the one individual Antinium who directly served the Queen and enforced her will, but Pawn knew his blades had slain more of his fellow Workers than any lone monster.

  For that was the duty of a Prognugator. To lead the Antinium in battle, to oversee the Hive while the Queen was busy, and to kill Aberrations. In theory that meant individuals like Pawn, if he turned out to be useless or worse, a traitor to the Hive.

  Pawn could never forget that when he was around Klbkch. The Revalantor studied Pawn, and then nodded shortly as if he’d made a decision.

  “I require your group of Soldiers to fight today for two reasons. Firstly, I wish to test whether any of them have indeed gained levels as a result of your leadership.”

  Pawn nodded as his heart sank. That was the reason Klbkch had assigned the surviving Soldiers to him in the first place, to make them stronger. Pawn knew that, but it was too soon! They’d barely been with him for a week, and now they might die? But Klbkch wasn’t done. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment before looking at Pawn.

  “Ordinarily, I would give your unit another month before committing you to a far less-dangerous assignment to test your capabilities. However…the second reason is that we are in need of every Soldier in the Hive at this moment, Pawn. Each and every one, regardless of their worth. I recalled Anand and his group of Soldiers and Workers to the Hive two days ago, but they were not enough. Your Soldiers will fight and many may die. But they are needed to hold the line. If they cannot hold, we may be overrun.”

  “What?”

  Pawn felt stunned. Overrun? How could the Hive be overrun? Klbkch studied Pawn and shook his head.

  “Ah, now I realize you are not informed about matters within the Hive. Belgrade and Anand know, but they have not spoken to you of this matter, have they?”

  “No. I had not spoken to them for several days now.”

  Pawn hesitated. He hadn’t seen Belgrade or Anand at all, actually. Klbkch nodded.

  “They have been working without rest to defend the Hive. Now I understand. I will inform you of the situation, so you may understand why your Soldiers are needed, Pawn. I would not do so for Belgrade or Anand except in a tactical sense, but you are like Relc.”

  “I am?”

  “You are. You ask superfluous questions. Now listen. You are aware our Hive has battled monsters from the dungeon underneath Liscor, correct?”

  “Yes. We always have been.”

  For as long as Pawn had lived, the Hive had fended off the incursion of monsters from the dungeon. There were many, many routes from the dungeon to the Hive, many tunnels dug by hungry monsters or by the Antinium. They had to be guarded against attack, which is why Soldiers fought almost daily. But the Hive had always pushed back every attack, from Shield Spiders to Pickstriker fungi, and Crypt Worms and the undead. What had changed?

  “We have always sought to defend ourselves from monsters within the dungeon. It has been a difficult task at times, but we have defeated every incursion regardless of the cost of life. However, now that adventurers have entered the dungeon…it is waking up.”

  “Waking up? It is sentient?”

  Klbkch shook his head.

  “That is a metaphorical statement. A non-Antinium expression. To clarify, the population of monsters is growing increasingly active in response to numerous food sources. Thus, the amount of attacks on our Hive has doubled or even tripled in number. For the first time, the Hive is losing more Workers and Soldiers in battle than it produces. We are struggling to increase reproduction while holding the line.”

  “I did not know.”

  Pawn knew Soldiers and Workers died each day. But he hadn’t noticed more empty spaces or fewer bodies. There were so many Antinium in the Hive, how could you tell? Klbkch tapped the desk slowly.

  “You were not meant to know. Nor will you tell anyone of our weakness, including Erin. Is that understood?”

  He waited until Pawn had nodded to go on.

  “We are capable of resolving this issue—in time. Workers are attempting to repair breached tunnels and create a second layer of fortifications. That is not the issue. The issue is that while Anand and Belgrade have successfully held back every monster attack—with far less loss of life due to their Skills—the latest skirmish created an event where Anand was wounded.”

  Something twisted in Pawn. He hadn’t known.

  “Is he dead?”

  “No. But he is unable to lead, and Belgrade is unable to command alone. I must fulfill my duties as Senior Guardsman for a set period of each day, and rest at other tim
es. I cannot apply for leave and alert the city of the Hive’s weakness at this moment. Thus, you must fulfill the void Anand has left.”

  Pawn absorbed all this slowly. He had to fight? With his Soldiers? But—they had paint. They had identity. They were…his. And he had to tell them to die?

  Perhaps Klbkch saw his indecision, because the Revalantor spoke sharply.

  “You will select one hundred of your Soldiers to do battle. So long as you hold your position, there will be no issue. Belgrade is able to handle the battle as a whole. But you will not retreat unless ordered to, understood?”

  Pawn wanted to object, but he knew it was pointless. Instead he asked the other question on his mind.

  “What about the other Antinium? The visitors? Will they not fight to defend the Hive?”

  Klbkch paused. Pawn had seen the other Antinium, and he remembered the one called Xrn, the Small Queen. She had been radiant. And she knew magic! He had never heard of someone like her, but Pawn was equally in awe of the Antinium with wings, and the ones that wore armor, or seemed to slide from shadow to shadow. Surely they could fight?

  But the Revalantor just shook his head.

  “They are guests of the Hive. If they wish to participate in battle, they are free to do so. But to request aid is…not a course of action which my Queen and I wish to undertake. No, we will fight back the monsters alone. You have your orders Pawn. Report to Belgrade tomorrow at noon. Now, leave.”

  Pawn left. He didn’t want to, but he dared not defy Klbkch. Not the Slayer. And Pawn knew he was right. If the Hive was in danger, he and his Soldiers had a duty. They had to fight.

  But Pawn didn’t have to like it. He immediately began walking down through the tunnels of his Hive, following the flow of Workers, searching for Belgrade.

  He found the Antinium in the chess room. That was where other Workers played chess. They had no names. They were still not Individual, despite having leveled up in the [Tactician] class. Klbkch and Pawn had agreed the Workers were missing a key element to gain individuality.

  Erin. Probably.

  But Belgrade and Anand still loved to play. They always hung about in this room when not on duty.