Year 10, Day 28 / Politics and Logistics
"Captain?"
Garret was watching travelers from a newly arrived wagon train organize themselves, when a pleasantly accented voice called out to him. Turning towards the sound, he spotted a classy, blonde-haired woman, wearing a fine, blue, winter-dress. With an elegance that betrayed her court position, she picked her way through the crowd until she stood before him.
"Captain Fax, I presume?"
He nodded. There was only one person he planned on meeting today, who'd bear this sort of appearance.
"You must be Lady le Blanc. It's an honour to meet you, my lady."
Garret extended his hand for a handshake, like most military greetings, but the woman ignored it made a kurt nod. He quickly realized his mistake and corrected his etiquette by bowing instead. That seemed to please her, and finally, the noble magician replied to his statement.
"Yes, the pleasure is mine. Now that I have found you, I would like a word, but…"
Le Blanc glanced over her shoulder at the mass of waggoners still milling about in the square.
"My men need guidance. I would direct them to their lodgings and meet you in front of your school in an hour, should you find this acceptable."
His schedule for the day was free, having already delegated his duties to his Mage-Sergeants, so Garret agreed. Again pleased by his response, le Blanc gave a slight smile and nod as she dismissed him.
"Then it shall be so. Good day, Captain."
An hour to kill wasn't much, but it gave Garret a bit of time to look around. The wagons were of particular interest, seeing as they were what le Blanc had arrived with, but their contents were at odds with how he imagined a court sorcerer would travel. Wooden beams, picks and shovels, a vast array of tools and camping supplies… While there were some comfortable luxuries, it looked like they were about to set up a small village, or at least, do some serious work wherever they ended up camping.
Garret pondered this as he wandered away, meandering through the town and making his way back towards his school. What could they be planning? His thoughts were interrupted by the shouting of an officer.
Looking over, Garret saw an unlucky harpy being berated by the man. Evidently, he was displeased with his 'priority' delivery being delayed. A cursory glance at the messenger bird's bag showed she'd been assigned to the northern parts of the nation… and those parts had been getting hammered with blizzards over the past week. Garret doubted she could have braved them even if she wanted to, but such excuses were of little comfort to the recipient, who refused to accept them.
Continuing his walk, Garret almost felt sorry for her. Almost. Maybe he would have if she'd been human, but he couldn't feel bad for a monster. Definitely not.
… Who was he kidding? It was just like before, all those years ago. He'd seen this same behavior when he'd been captured by the spiders… and he really wished the actions of certain officers didn't mimic them...
His mood darkened, Garret wandered about aimlessly until he arrived before his school. A second later, le Blanc tore a hole through reality and materialized beside him, precisely when they agreed to. Again, he bowed to greet her.
"Captain. I'm glad you weren't late, we have scant minutes to spare. Do you have everything you need with you?"
Garret nodded. He was already dressed in his 'formal' crimson robes, gilded and emblazoned with The Order's, his school's, and his own rank's insignia, and the satchel he carried contained everything he might need for a night of diplomacy.
"Very well. Then we shall depart at once."
Stepping beside him, le Blanc took hold of his arm, and the two winked out of existence.
Though she kept her composure and was obviously a powerful mage, even le Blanc couldn't make the jump hundreds of miles south without help. When they arrived at a way station, a quarter of the way there, they had to let the teleportation wizards staffing it take over.
Gradually built in the years since Naton's founding, small outposts manned by magicians and their guards dotted the country's borders. These contained transport circles, which could be used to warp packages in an instant.
Normally, they was used to move critical documents or artifacts that The Order absolutely could not risk being intercepted, or sometimes to deliver supplies, as Garret had seen once, during the crusade. In a pinch, though, the network could also move important people around at the speed of light. What was a person with a stamp, if not a human-sized package, after all?
Of course, transporting things this large took a staggering amount of energy, meaning each way station could only move a handful of people or parcels per day. This limited their usefulness and drove the cost up immensely, but if you had a noble house footing the bill, it was the fastest way to get around. With that in mind, when they arrived, they waited for the colour to return to le Blanc's face and her legs to regain the energy to stand, then showed the head wizard their documents of passage and were sent on their way.
After a few hours of hopping between the nodes in the teleportation network, the pair were eventually portalled across a wide river and into the neighbouring land of Tilia. From there, le Blanc guided him through the small, border town, to her nation's own portal outpost, and their journey finally ended with the burst of light of a teleportation spell depositing them into a guest room in Lord Tilst's manor.
Glancing at the magical timepiece mounted upon the wall, le Blanc spoke her approval of their travel arrangements.
"We made excellent time, it's rare to find the transport network this uncongested… Captain, you may wait here until you are summoned. Lord Tilst will not be expecting our arrival for another hour, and he is likely in the midst of another audience. Until then, please make yourself comfortable."
Then she turned and strode away, her riding boots clicking on the polished, stone floor as she did. Now alone, Garret took a moment to survey his surroundings.
The bed and cushioned armchairs of the room were wonderfully plush and ornately decorated, as expected of a noble's lodgings, but more interesting was the manner with which they had been constructed. Everything here was shaped out of wrought iron, using unrecognizable blacksmithing techniques.
The room's source of light was likewise foreign. Though there was of course, a window, in the early evening like this, most of the illumination came from the soft glow of white stones. These were fixed to sconces that dotted the walls, and gave enough light to read by, casting soft shadows from the handful of similarly strange, colourful, curios that decorated the writing desk or shelves.
Glancing at the glowstones, Garret was reminded of another city's infrastructure, but unlike Hafe, these stones seemed to power themselves with no connection to a 'mageworks'. Their age also differentiated them, appearing far, far older than the crystals of that, now destroyed, city. Their edges had been worn down through innumerable years of use, and slight fractures crept across their weathered faces. For Garret, who'd witnessed far more advanced crystal use firsthand, they weren't anything special, but anyone else would likely have found them quite impressive – no nation he knew used magic quite like this.
As the hour of waiting came to an end, Garret was stirred by a knock at the door. When he moved to open it, he was greeted by a strange sight – the maid who had come to fetch him was made of metal. Indeed, though she was mostly covered by the modest, long dress of a servant, gears and joints were visible in her exposed hands, and her 'skin', was obviously forged through advanced metallurgy. How a being like her's existence could even be possible, Garret did not know.
"Lord Tilst will see you now. Please follow me."
With a monotone voice, the clockwork maid spoke. Then she bowed and slowly walked away, her clunky but precise movements guiding him to his destination.
The maid lead Garret through hall after hall of the immense castle, occasionally pausing to ensure he followed. Truly, it was fortunate he did have a guide, because Garret could scarcely keep track of their path, past innumerable, similar looking rooms.
When they arrived at the entrance to the main hall, the maid paused to examine Garret for a moment. Evidently finding his appearance lacking for a visitor of her lord, she reached up to straighten his lapel and pat down an errant bit of hair, all with her usual, emotionless expression, and clunky, inhuman movements. Once she'd satisfied herself, she opened the door for him and stood to the side, gesturing for him to enter.
"Captain Fax! Welcome!"
Garret had been expecting to be led to a throne room, where he'd kneel before royalty, but instead, he found himself in a vast dining hall. A loud voice boomed from its end, and heads turned as the servants scurrying about or eating their own meals glanced his way. From an opulently decorated table, elevated above the rest, the tall, somewhat corpulent noble called for him. When he gestured to an empty seat on the left side of the table, Garret bowed, avoiding a repeat of his etiquette faux pas, then quickly moved to take his place.
After he'd picked his way through the crowd and joined them at the table, Lord Tilst greeted him again.
"I'm glad you could join us, Captain. I trust you've been well?"
"Yes, your excellency. Fate has been kind to me."
"Good!"
"And your students?"
This time, the question came from the lord's wife.
"Also well, excellency. The younger ones have been quick to learn, and the older ones are getting better with each day."
"I'm glad. We need all the good news we can get in these troubled times…"
With a gentle smile, Lady Tilst nodded her approval, and then it was Garret's turn to return the pleasantries.
"How have you and your nation faired, excellency? I, sadly, know nothing of the affairs of Tilia."
That turned out to be the wrong thing to say. When he confessed his ignorance, Lord Tilst's face twisted into an indignant expression.
"An officer of Naton doesn't know the history of one of their dear allies? Captain, you wound me! Is our nation really seen as so far beneath Naton that they do not give us the slightest thought when teaching their men the state of the world?"
Garret was about to stammer an apology when the lord cracked a smile and raised a hand to silence him.
"I jest, Captain, I'm well aware that you did not come to be an officer through the usual channels. I cannot fault your education being lacking, so I'll take the liberty of fixing this. We were, actually, the first of The Order to purge the monsters from our lands a hundred years ago, despite being younger than Naton. Since then, our nation has flourished, and we've…"
The conversation continued into an interesting, but overwhelming lecture about Tilia's history, how they drove out the monsters so quickly, and how they'd been supporting other nations ever since. It seemed like it would have gone on for hours, but thankfully, it was soon interrupted by the arrival of Morgan, who kneeled before the table.
"I apologize for my tardiness, excellencies. Other matters kept me occupied."
"All is forgiven, Mrs. le Blanc. Please. Join us."
With the lord's permission, Morgan took the seat on the right side of the table, and once she was settled, Lord Tilst clapped his hands together with glee.
"Right! Now that the four of us are here, we can begin!"
It turned out what they would begin, though, was not the negotiations Garret had expected. Instead, a horde of servants descended upon the table, setting down plate after plate of delicious looking food. Most of them were human, but amongst their number, Garret spotted a pair of mechanical women, like the maid who escorted him.
Once the table had been set, Lord Tilst opened his arms and glanced to both of his guests, before allowing them to take the first bites.
"Captain Fax. Mrs. le Blanc. Please. Enjoy."
That turned out to be a command nearly impossible to disobey. As Garret sampled dish after dish, the reason for Lord Tilst's weight became abundantly clear. Everything had been cooked to perfection, and the quality of the food far surpassed what The Order's rank and file, or even their officers, were given. Though he, le Blanc, and Lady Tilst maintained proper etiquette while eating, the lord of the castle wasted no time on such frivolities, gorging himself on the feast with abandon. The only time he stopped eating, was when Garret directed a question to Lady Tilst.
"You have some interesting servants here, Excellency."
Placing a hand over her mouth as she took her time to chew and swallow, Lady Tilst took a moment to respond.
"You speak of the metal women?"
"Yes. What are they?"
"Ancient machines we call 'automata'. They were excavated from one of the ruins our soldiers explored."
"Ruins?"
The noblewoman nodded.
"Yes. Tilia was founded upon the graveyard of an empire, lost in a bygone age. Though its inhabitants are long dead, their machinery remains, and we have given it a new purpose."
A loud thud interrupted the conversation as Lord Tilst quaffed a pint of ale, then slammed the mug onto the table.
"We've got Mrs. le Blanc to thank for that. A better archeomancer, you could never find. She leads our most important expeditions personally."
"Thank you, your grace, but I would be nothing without the education you provided me."
Hearing her play down her accomplishments, the Lord just grinned.
"She's humble too."
Sensing Garret's trepidation at being surrounded by alien machinery, Lady Tilst did her best to reassure him.
"Worry not, the women of iron are friendly. We have never had an incident with them before."
"Ah…"
Once they'd finished the meal, Lord Tilst sat back and patted his belly.
"I never cease to be amazed by the skill of our chefs. Captain Fax? Mrs. le Blanc? I trust the food was to your liking?"
Morgan nodded, leaving Garret to handle the reply.
"Yes, your excellency, it was delicious… but you did not invite me all this way just for dinner, did you?"
The lord smiled, then leaned forward, looking towards him.
"You're correct, Captain. There's two matters I'd like to discuss, the first of which being my daughter. How is she doing?"
Franzisca Tilst, one of the newest additions to Garret's school. Though he made it clear he would not treat her differently from the other students, her being royalty did complicate matters somewhat. He'd had to instruct his own sergeants to pay special attention to her when they did practical drills, for her own safety. A would-be princess being injured under his watch would cause all manner of problems for his school, politically.
"She's doing well, Excellency. She has demonstrated skill at sorcery, and stands as an example to the other students."
Of course, he didn't say what kind of example, she'd been. The princess had come fourteenth out of fifteen in last year's exams for her age-group. … but Lord Tilst didn't know that. Nor did he need to.
"Good! As expected of my daughter. … Has she had any problems accepting the… philosophy of your school?"
"No, Excellency. She's had no problems taking it to heart."
That one, he didn't have to lie about. Some students balked at Garret's hardline stance, but Franzisca had wholeheartedly agreed with what he preached about the monsters. As the child of one of the families funding such an extremist school, it should have been no surprise. Satisfied, Lord Tilst nodded and leaned back in his chair.
"Fantastic… See, this is what I like about you, Captain. You see things how they really are. All this bullshit with the harpies and centaurs… there's too many bleeding hearts out there."
His expression twisting into one of annoyance, the lord began to rant about the state of the world and how he thought things ought to be.
"Those monsters should have never been allowed into The Order, but thanks to them, we're going to have soldiers seeing a few friendly ones and thinking maybe some monsters aren't so bad. It's disgraceful. It's weakness. The only way we're going to end this war is by purging them all, but now there's going to be soldiers unwilling to do what must be done."
Doing what must be done, eh? Garret had heard a critique of that line of thinking before… His darkened expression went unnoticed, though, as the corpulent noble took a swig of his ale.
"At least we can rely on your sorcerers though, yeah? You're one of the few schools with the balls to teach that."
Taking a cue from Lady le Blanc, Garret accepted the complement, then carefully turned it around.
"Thank you, Excellency, but we're not the only ones who see the truth. Your armies hold a similar ethos. When Tilia joins a crusade, they are sure to become its bedrock."
Lord Tilst smiled, hearing that and appreciating the flattery.
"You have a way with words, Captain. And you are right. As Tilia grows in power, she shall take a more active role within The Order, to guide it onto its rightful path."
Then he leaned forward.
"Growing this power is the second thing I'd like to discuss with you… We came to an agreement with Naton several months ago. In exchange for our support on certain operations, they gave us exclusive access to a newly discovered ruin in their territory. Obviously, we'd like to explore it as quickly as possible, but the expedition would have to go through dangerous territory that hasn't yet been cleared."
He paused, letting his words sink in, but Garret already knew what was coming. Being wined and dined like this could only mean one thing.
"Captain Fax, I have a favour to ask of you… I would greatly appreciate it if from your school would accompany the caravan. They'll need the extra guards for safety, and magicians to solve any magic-related problems."
That was a request Garret was loath to accept, and he made it clear by arguing for why it couldn't be done.
"Sorcerers aren't guards. And our school is not ready for a combat deployment yet. Most of my students aren't even of age."
The lord took his concern in stride, waving it away with his hand.
"Oh of course, I should have specified… I didn't mean your entire school, just you and a handful of the eldest."
"That would mean interrupting their lessons for… however long you wanted us out there."
"It would only be for two, maybe three weeks. And besides! I know you've been sending your school on mock crusades. Now they'll get a chance to hone their skills in the real world. I think their participation could benefit all parties involved."
Something told him the lord was not going to let this go…
"… and if I refuse?"
Lord Tilst put on a show of looking saddened, and sighing, dejectedly.
"Then I suppose nothing can be done. But Tilia's coffers are strained as it is, with an extremely tight budget. If we were to be forced to spend even more, hiring extra guards on our own, we'd find ourselves in a dire economic position. I'm not sure how we could justify continuing to fund foreign schools or military units in that case."
Garret looked at the lord, then cast a side-eyed glance out the window, noting the golden statues within the snow-covered courtyard and the immaculate state of the opulently decorated castle surrounding it. The threat was clear, plain as day.
"… Then, as a symbol of our friendship, I'll help. I would hate to see a noble close to me reduced to such a state."
That brought the smile back to Lord Tilst's face and he leaned back in his chair.
"Good man. Thank you, Captain. Also, as a token of our friendship, I will grant you all the supplies you need for your students. You need not worry about equipping them yourself."
Quite the turn from the sob story of limited finances…
"How do you want us to organize this?"
"Don't you worry about that. The caravan that Mrs. le Blanc arrived in will continue from Fort Estlev to the dig site in two days. You need only join them. Of course, we'll provide the teleportation back in the morning."
"I understand… Then, with your permission, Excellency, I'd retire for the night. It seems I have a lot of work ahead of me."
Day 30
"Let's get started… Has everyone gathered what they need? Clothing!"
The eight, chosen students pulled their spare outfits and winter gear from the small mounds of supplies in front of each of them, and presented them to the mage-sergeant. The man quickly looked over all of them, then nodded, satisfied. Into the packs, the items went.
"Tents!"
Again, the process was repeated, though one of the students had evidently forgotten his. He was quickly sent to the convoy to retrieve a spare, and the process resumed once he'd returned.
"Pegs! Ropes! Sleeping pads! Sleeping bags!"
Garret watched the show from across the square for a moment, before turning back to his discussion with le Blanc about organization.
"My students will need partners, but I don't want them working with each other. They'll learn more if they get assigned to the convoy guards."
The court magician nodded in agreement.
"That will be fine. The guards all have their own partners, but we can have them work in groups of three for the operation."
"Good. Then I think that's everything."
"Not quite. Where's your partner, Captain?"
For a brief moment, Garret considered responding with 'dead', but he held back.
"I don't have one. I've worked alone since I lost the one I was committed to."
Hearing this elicited a troubled expression from le Blanc.
"I see… Then you'll partner with me."
"Sorry, my lady, but that won't work."
The magician let out an exasperated sigh, sensing the reason for his rejection.
"Captain, we're not on a crusade. You needn't worry about anything that would betray her… or his memory happening, our arrangement would be purely professional. I will not go into dangerous territory without someone watching my back, and I don't think you'd object to a little extra safety either. Unless you wish to explain to Lord Tilst why the expedition failed before it began, it'd be in everyone's best interest for you to cooperate."
Garret stared at her for a moment, displeasure clearly visible in his eyes. He was really starting to get annoyed with being pushed around by the nobility.
"Fine. Then I'll work with you."
"Excellent."
An agreement reached, le Blanc glanced over at the students, who were in the process of loading their gear into one of the convoy's wagons.
"It seems your sergeant has finished organizing things. We can assign everyone partners, then depart at once."
Day 32
"Really, Captain, there's no need to force yourself to trudge through the snow. This wagon has plenty of space, I do not mind if you ride in it."
From within her covered and luxuriously equipped wagon, le Blanc looked away from the book she was reading, down to Garret. Unbefitting of his status, he was marching alongside the caravan like the rest of the common soldiers, and had long-since abandoned his formal robes. Dressed in his weathered, rusty-red ones and a warm overcoat, both embroidered with the stylized flame of his school's crest, he pressed onwards.
Shrugging in response to her statement, he glanced in the direction of an exhausted looking sorcerer.
"Do you have enough room for all my students?"
"No, but I have room for their officer."
"… Then I choose to walk with them."
From a pure, combat-readiness perspective, him saving his energy would have been the smarter call, but Garret was focusing on trying to set an example and preserve moral. Occasionally, he'd quicken his pace, or drop back, to talk with one of his students and their assigned partners, informally. He wanted to make sure they were doing alright.
While the students he'd brought had all (barely) entered adulthood, they had only been on one mock crusade for practice, and the wagons were rolling at a faster pace than they were used to. Many of them tired faster than expected, but the solidarity of seeing their officer 'suffering' along with them helped.
"We'll need to slow the convoy's speed once we reach Naton's old borders. From there on out, monsters will be more common, and my mages won't be any good to you if they're exhausted."
"That will delay our arrival by at least a day, but if you see it necessary, we'll make it so."
"I do."
Nodding, Morgan disappeared as she teleported. A flash at the convoy's lead wagon indicated her destination, probably to inform the lead driver of their plans, and she returned several minutes later.
"It's done. I hope your sorcerers are worth this delay, Captain."
For the most part, their travels went without incident. Once the convoy slowed, Garrets students began having a much easier time keeping pace, and Morgan, though loath to do any physical labour, could often be coaxed into lending the occasional spell for assistance when they'd set up camp. Really, the only incident of note was when a group of exceptionally confident goblins tried to raid the convoy.
The monsters charged out of the darkness, hooting and hollering as they attempted a night raid, but their confident, jeering voices quickly turned to frightened shrieks when an overwhelming storm of spell-fire answered their threats. Garret almost felt bad for them.
The inky blackness of their camp was burned away by the magical light of a torrent of spells. Blast after blast was directed at the attackers by Garret and his students, causing them to scatter. Though Garret was sure he'd nailed at least one of the goblins, the rest of his students found their aims to be sloppy in the darkness, and come morning, they found this to be true. When they searched the area, they only found a single corpse, the rest having fled in fear. No matter. They wouldn't be bothered by them again.
This success, as well as the students acclimatizing to their pace, meant that moral remained high for most of their journey to the dig site. Even Morgan seemed pleased by the students' abilities. Though she never said it outright, her actions showed it.
At the beginning of the journey, whenever she needed help with something, she'd either ask one of the more senior guards, or Garret (whoever was closest). By the end of it, though, she had no qualms about grabbing the nearest student, confident they wouldn't make a mess of whatever task she assigned them.
"I suppose you're competent enough as a leader, Captain." was the closest thing he got to a compliment, but Garret took it all the same. Slowly but surely, he was gaining professional respect beyond mere formalities, and things were looking up… at least until the shaman arrived.
Day 37
In the darkness of his tent, Garret stirred. It was the middle of the night, but something had woken him... Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and listened… nothing. In his sleep addled state, he shrugged it off and rolled over, trying to resume his slumber. A strange scent filled his nostrils, then a moment later, the muffled sounds of a couple getting amorous filtered into his tent. He hoped it wasn't any of his students… oh well… he'd deal with it in the morning.
Once again, he tried to return to sleep, but found it annoyingly difficult to drift away. That musk, probably from the lovebirds next-door, was affecting to him too… now he was getting in the mood, though, sadly, he didn't have a partner to share it with. … or did he? The sound of the tent flap being opened drew his attention, and by the light of her softly glowing spell focus, Garret spotted their resident, court magician sneaking into his tent.
"Lady le Blanc, what are you-?"
"Shhh…"
Pressing a dainty finger to her lips, she smiled, coyly, as she slipped off her nightgown, revealing elegant, lacy lingerie.
"You lead your troops well, Captain… but I wonder how you'll perform, taking the lead on this…"
Her eyes were glowing.
Morgan crawled atop him, and leaned forward to invite him into a deep kiss – an invitation he gladly accepted. As they made out, he felt a slender hand reach down and guide his own, up to her modest chest.
This was wrong.
After several, passionate minutes together, le Blanc sat upright and worked her way out of her undergarments. Then, she fell to the side, pulling Garret with her, so he ended up rolling on top of her. Now, laying beneath him, the beautiful noble woman spread her legs to invite him in.
"Why don't you show me what you can do, Garret?"
Morgan didn't act like this. She never called him 'Garret'.
The mounting strangeness of the situation finally broke through, and the spell affecting Garret shattered. His senses unmuddled, he suddenly became aware of a much, much stronger odour flooding the camp, and the sounds of passionate couplings all around. A strange, guttural chant could be heard over the moans, and occasionally, the impacts of spells. Something was attacking them!
"Something's not right. le Blanc! Wake up!"
He tried to shake his 'partner', but she just responded by wrapping her arms around him and trying to force him into another kiss. Scowling, Garret shoved her to the ground, then pulled back his arm and delivered a painful slap across her face. A moan of pleasure was all he got in return. Fucks sake! The one time he had to beat someone back to reality, she turned out to be into it!
He was wasting time. Instead of trying to figure out how to break the spell's hold on the wizard, Garret grabbed her spell focus and ripped it off her neck, breaking the thin chain. If she was under the influence of something, he couldn't risk leaving her able to cast. His experience with the youko and the alraune had taught him how badly having an enemy caster behind him could go…
Outside, in the convoy's camp, the musk of sex was overpowering. So thick was the stench, it almost made it hard to breath. After he'd refastened his belt and jammed le Blanc's spell focus into his pocket, Garret burst out of his tent, half naked, but sword in hand and ready to fight. There, he saw dozens of voluptuous bodies rushing to and fro as an orc warband went about its assault on their camp.
A pair of wounded monsters and a pile of thrashing limbs revealed the source of the spell impacts he'd heard earlier. Two (or was it three?) of his students had been driven from their tents by the amorous activities of their assigned guards. Apparently, when they saw the horde of mamono, they'd broken out of the spell as well and tried to fight.
That went about as well as you'd expect for students facing dozens of orcs, and they were quickly overwhelmed. Now, they lay beneath a mound of sweaty bodies, experiencing the pleasures of multiple monsters first-hand, seemingly unconcerned with the winter's cold.
Waves of purple washed over the camp periodically, with each beat of the chanting heard. They caused the orcs they touched to shimmer as the pulses fueled magical wards, and the activities within the tents to intensify, as the ripples drove the humans to greater heights of ecstasy.
Though most of the orcs moved between different orgies, taking advantage of the subdued guards from the camp's perimeter, several of them waited, fidgeting, near some of the most vocal tents. The purpose of that behavior became apparent when Garret heard a pair of human partners cry out in unison as they came together. Seizing their chance, the waiting orcs pounced upon the tent, dragging the, now tired and dazed, soldiers outside. With little resistance, they forced their participation in the coupling.
At another tent, one of the impatient orcs spotted Garret and, with a delighted squeal, began to charge.
She didn't get far.
Being one of the only mamono who's abundance of curves impacted their speed, Garret had plenty of time to formulate a spell. Already having seen the wards, he thrust a hand forward, and shot a scattered blast of fiery darts at her. The spell-fragments exploded across the surface of the bubble, overwhelming its meagre energy supply, and leaving its monster vulnerable to subsequent strikes. Barely having time to realize this, the orc met her end as target practice for a flaming spear.
More squeals sounded around him as Garret readied his blade. Flashy spells, while effective, had the unpleasant effect of drawing more monsters in, and he quickly found himself under attack once more. An orc leapt at him, swinging her club with wild abandon, but Garret hadn't been sitting on his ass for ten years. His, now practiced, swordsmanship let him parry the blow and step aside. Then he lunged forward, ramming his shoulder into the curvaceous monster and creating an opening by knocking her back.
Thoughts of how nice her enormous, soft breasts felt, intruded his mind as another wave of purple washed across the camp, but Garret shoved them aside as he pressed the attack. Taking advantage of her slow speed and, surprising, lack of strength, he hammered off a pair of blows before managing to gut her.
When his foe crumpled, Garret took off running through the snow. He'd killed two orcs, but their squeals and screams were attracting others. He had no confidence in facing multiple monsters at once, even if they were of the weaker variety. He had to find the caster responsible for the spell enchanting their camp. That was his only hope of victory.
Following the direction of the pulses and the smell, Garret sprinted through the camp, dodging orcs and couples all the way. Once, he was caught off guard and tackled to the ground. The monster hugged him tightly, pressing her breasts, her hips, and the rest of her devilish curves against him, before reaching down to undo his pants and mount him.
Maybe it would be ok to let it happen… She was so warm… She was so beautiful…
Knowing he only had seconds to spare, Garret grabbed her, clawing at her face and, when he felt the tell-tale static of his hand passing through the ward, fired off a spell from within. While it didn't kill her, it burned the orc enough to cause her to recoil and allow Garret to shove her off of him and keep running. The magic was getting to him. He had to move fast.
Eventually, Garret found the source of their camp's troubles. A high orc, covered in strange markings and wearing fetish-covered leather armour, was chanting. She thumped her enormous, bone-adorned staff into the ground to keep time, and with each thud, the purple waves washed across the camp. When one swept across Garret, he felt a pull at his mind as memories of the voluptuous women he'd denied resurfaced.
He still had a chance with them… he could go back…
Garret shook his head to regain his focus. He had to stop this.
Like the fight with Aleksy, Garret attacked without warning, letting off a barrage of spell-fire. Unlike that fight, though, here, Garret actually stood a chance of winning. A high orc shaman was a formidable foe, but he'd fought their non-magical variants before, and his spellcasting was stronger than ever.
Just before impact, he split his spell to strike the monster from multiple angles, forcing her to spend exponentially more energy blocking them with her wards than he did conjuring his magic. Though a promising start, the initial strike was only the beginning, and a high ranked monster wouldn't be phased by that attack. As expected, she turned and roared.
Still, somehow, keeping her chants and beats going, the high orc charged at Garret, grasping the end of her staff, and swinging it into a devastatingly powerful blow. Having expected a shorter reach to her strike, Garret was caught off guard and could only drop to the ground as the beam whistled over his head, brushing his hair. The monster followed it up with an overhead smash that forced him to roll to the side, as the impact left a very visible indent in the earth.
When he sprung to his feet, Garret deflected a jab at his ribs, and managed to win himself enough of an opening to fire off a volley of splintering fire. With spell after spell, he worked at overwhelming the high orc's wards. The last one spiraled off target, though, when someone grabbed his hand.
Pouncing on him from behind, a pair of lesser orcs joined the fight. They latched onto him from either side, grinding against his thighs and chest, and one of them tried to turn his head to force him into a kiss.
She smelled so nice… They were so soft…
Unconsciously, Garret felt his hand creeping up to cup her breast, but he slammed his head forward in time, breaking her nose. He wrenched his arm free and delivered a powerful slash with his sword, then freed himself from the other mamono by twisting and thrusting it into her side. Now unentangled, Garret readied for combat again, but when he looked up, he found himself face-to-face with a charging monster.
With no time to evade, the high orc hit Garret with a blow powerful enough to send him flying. Stars blotted his vision as he spun through the air, before landing atop a supply pile. Sickening cracks sounded as his impact broke boxes and bones, and he slumped to the ground, heavily injured. With a haughty grin, the shaman looked down her nose at him and began to walk over to claim her prize – a prize that could no longer resist.
*Flash*
He was fine. Garret blinked, then shot a blast of spells, before pulling himself out of the wreckage. Had he just imagined his wounds? Maybe he'd been so shocked by the impact, he'd thought them to be worse than they were. With that sudden flicker of white light, he was back in the fight. Scowling at his persistence, the high orc roared again and barreled towards him. The battle wasn't even close to over.
Frantic ducking, dodging, and diving defined the fight as Garret scrambled to avoid or deflect every attack he received. With such strength, he knew that a single blow could end him, even if he'd survived the first. He also had to keep in mind the multitude of orcs that would occasionally join in and harry him.
These complications strained him, but the nature of their combat seemed to be tiring his foe even more. She was caught in a situation that meant she couldn't ever fight defensively to catch her breath. If she backed off to recover, that just gave Garret a window to cast and exhaust more of her energy through her wards. If she kept the pressure, forcing Garret to dive, she tired herself out with repeated, full-strength attacks.
Garret was winning the battle of attrition handily, but it took all of his focus to defend himself. She only had to land one strike, and if she did, it would all be over. Throughout their blur of blades and staves, Garret found himself immensely thankful for his swordsmanship. Ten years ago, he'd never have been able to keep up with her.
Gradually, the battle shifted in his favour. As the mamono tired herself out, her attacks became slower, and Garret could push his advantage even further by casting again and again. His worn, aging, energy crystal let him fight at full strength for longer than the monster expected, and eventually she realized she'd met her match. Banking it all on one final charge, she lunged at Garret, who responded with a powerful, flaming spear.
With a crackle and a pop, the long-since exhausted ward shattered, and Garret's spell surged forth, unimpeded. It impaled the high orc shaman, and with a clenching of his fist, Garret ended the fight by detonating the spell. At her demise, the waves of strange magic entrancing the camp ceased, and he could once again think clearly without having to fight for it.
With the slaying of their leader, a force much greater than a simple spell swept through the orc's ranks – fear. Garret expected a crowd of monsters to descend upon him the minute he'd finished his fight, but no attacks came. The orcs, bold with a leader, but cowardly without, routed and, though their victory should have been assured regardless, either turned and ran, or froze on the spot, in shock.
With the shaman's enchantments dealt with, Garret shouted the alarm, and soon, groups of confused, half-dressed soldiers began to stumble out of their tents. When they saw the fleeing orcs, they, thinking they were still under attack, made desperate slashes at the mamono running by. Through their combined efforts, Garret and these rag-tag groups managed to slay a surprising number of orcs on the run… but for every one they killed, a handful escaped. And his overwhelmed students had been taken with them.
"Le Blanc!"
When a certain, under-dressed court magician appeared from Garret's own tent, he shouted to her.
"People have been kidnapped, we need a spell to track them."
She, still flustered from what had happened, and unused to decisiveness in combat, just responded with a blank stare.
"DO. YOU KNOW. A TRACKING. SPELL?"
Though they needed to organize, the knowledge that men and women, some of them his students, had been taken, filled Garret with urgency. A single, weak monster, would take days or weeks to build up enough demonic energy to begin their transformation, but from what he'd seen, the taken would not be subjected to single monsters…
"I… Uh… Yes. Yes, I know a spell that could track them."
Finally gathering herself, Morgan nodded.
"Good. Get dressed, then meet me back here. There's no time to waste."
He turned and, as the highest ranking officer who knew the situation, was about to shout orders to the rest of the convoy's guards, when he remembered something. Before the wizard could leave, Garret called back to her one more time.
"Lady le Blanc! You'll be wanting this."
He tossed her the spellfocus he'd ripped from around her neck during their intimate encounter. That elicited an embarrassed blush, but flushed face aside, Le Blanc maintained her composure, thanked him, then purposefully strode towards her wagon to change.
It took nearly thirty minutes to get everyone organized. That was thirty minutes they didn't have. Once Garret, now fully dressed, had assigned a new set of guards to the convoy and organized a search party, he addressed le Blanc, who stood beside him.
"Lady le Blanc, we need your tracking spell."
"It's an archeomancy spell, designed to find artifacts from fragments. I'll need something from the missing person, to find their trail."
"Will clothing do?"
"It…"
Le Blanc looked thoughtful for a moment, before shrugging.
"It might. Hair, or a bit of blood would be better, but clothing may work… I have never tried to use it like this."
"Bring me a garment from her tent! A worn one!"
Doing his best to appear in control, Garret used a confident voice and sweep of his arm to send a soldier running to fetch the missing sorceress' clothes. When he returned, he handed it to Morgan, who turned it over a few times, plucked a strand of stray hair from it, and then began to work her magic.
Like raindrops on the water, a blue ripple of magic slowly expanded from the magician, resonating and creating waves wherever it touched a trace of the object of their search. Slowly, as the rings expanded, the ripples formed a path that zig-zagged around the camp, then meandered to the bushes and up into the mountains. When it disappeared from sight, Morgan ended the spell, leaving only a slightly glowing path behind.
"Our course is set. Soldiers to the front, let's move."
When the search party started to leave, Garret glanced over at Le Blanc, who was looking strangely pale and swaying slightly.
"Lady le Blanc. Are you already?"
"Yes… Yes."
She blinked a few times and took a ragged breath as she steadied herself.
"This spell wasn't designed for tracking people… It was never meant to be used over such a long range."
"If only we had a ranger…"
Garret cursed their unenviable situation. Having a well-mapped route and little need for bushwhacking, Tilia hadn't sent any of their (comparatively few) rangers with the convoy. That oversight was coming back to bite them now, since they had no tracking experts to rely on. At least they had a priest to purify corruption… if they could recover their men before it became irreversible.
"Is this wise, Captain? We're risking half the convoy for this operation."
At Morgan's doubts, he responded with a self-assured affirmation.
"Those orcs know we're here. If we don't deal with them, and they have another leader, they'll come again tomorrow night. And they will likely not be so gentle. Will you help us, or should I leave you behind?"
Seeing Garret's resolve, the magician nodded.
"… I will. Such as my help may be."
"Thank you."
Following the troops, the two hurried after them to take their position close to the front of the pack. It was there, that Garret spoke again, further explaining his rationale.
"There's another reason for this… Some of my students are among the missing. They should never have been here at all, it was my responsibility to keep them safe. I will get them back."
For an hour, the soldiers followed the trail through the darkness and the brush. Though they rarely stumbled off the correct path, guided by periodic castings of Morgan's spell, progress was slow. Garret had forbidden the use of torches, as an open flame would draw attention to them like a beacon. That lowered the risk of being ambushed, but it limited their progress.
The light of the moon, reflecting off the white snow, let them see a little, but it was still difficult to keep your footing when you weren't sure if you were about to step upon an ice-covered rock. Navigating the treacherous terrain was no easy task, and Garret slowed things further when he repeatedly called them to halt. Occasional gusts of wind rattled the branches of scrub-bushes, and the sounds of pebbles bouncing down the mountain was a common occurrence. Were these noises caused by the weather? Or by monsters lurking in the dark?
Constantly expecting ambush, Garret's commands proved to be as detrimental to their progress as the darkness, but what good would it be if he lost more soldiers to a preventable ambush in his haste to rescue the missing? This caution eventually led to him calling off the search for the night when the trail lead through the center of a high-walled ravine. Looking up, Garret could barely see the edges by the moon light, and the bushes and rocks atop it provided the perfect place for hiding monsters.
The trail was getting ever stronger, and undoubtably, they were almost there… but if they were attacked in that ravine, Garret doubted he'd last long enough to light the area with a spell, much less fight his attacker's off… and climbing the sharp sides without light was a complete non-starter. Instead, he ordered them back to camp and had their (now severely overworked) priest purify the survivors.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, they'd find them.
They had to.
He had to.
Author's Notes: It's not dead yet!
A certain dragon asked about me posting this on other sites. Once I finish the story, it'll probably sneak its way over onto AOO after I do a few revisions. While there's no way in hell I'm rewriting the whole thing, there's one or two chapters (early ones) that I still cringe about, and will definitely need to be fixed before I put it somewhere else. Spacebattles, I know, has already seen this story. It got brought up once in the MGE thread, before it was perma-locked, so I know some in the community there know about it. I could post it in a standalone thread there, but it doesn't meet their content requirements, and I don't feel like editing out the sex scenes, so I think I'll have to pass on that.
That said… Romano, Xplorerguy, if you're still out there, your comments about my story containing 'enough war crimes to give an HFY fan an ahegao' absolutely made my day.
Ok! With that out of the way, on to the purpose of this chapter…
There's a bit of world building going on here, with Tilia and the teleportation network – the latter was particularly important because, as the reviews pointed out, using harpies for all communication is stupid. My Order isn't dumb, they know things could get intercepted, but for non-critical messages, convenience outweighs the possibility of treachery. Some of the other ways they ensure cooperation will probably show up in later chapters, but for now, you got to see that there's an alternate way for sending super important stuff – Trust me~ I actually did think this one through a bit.
The orcs' raid on the convoy was another point of development. We had a ten-year time skip, and Garret is an officer now. He'd obviously have gotten stronger and more confident off screen, so I wanted to show this. Thus, I had him solo a high orc. Obviously, it wasn't without complications, but as Garret himself stated, ten years ago, he'd never have been able to do that. Power/Character development! Wooo!~
Back to Eri (yes, I know.). I think I've said this before, but no one is written to explicitly be a character you're intended to hate. Eri falls under this philosophy. By all means, feel free to hate her, but her inclusion in the story was for other purposes. She shone a light on the political games going on in the higher echelons of The Order, and Garret's not-so-voluntary favour to Tilia in this chapter reinforces this and shows it wasn't all bluster. The Order has problems. Big ones. But so does every other faction. Grey-on-grey morality is the name of the game here, and it'll only become more apparent, now that Garret is seeing the internal working from the perspective of an Order elite.
The big ticket items aside, there's a bunch of little thing being set up for later chapters that, while not critical, should make the story a little nicer in terms of call-backs and logical consistency. Going into them in detail, though, would result in far too much self-absorbed minutia, so I think I'll end the notes here.
Thanks for sticking with the story, even after that long gap, and…
Until next time, Sayonara!