AN: I know, it's been awhile, I had two commissioned stories to write and a very busy period of work, I do have a 3rd commission cropping up which I'll be starting soon, but I want to get a few chapters of God Rising and Blood in the Streets out before I write that, I figure y'all have been patient, so you deserve some focus too before I turn to another project. Leave a review and let me know what you think. :)
…Nazarick Bar...
"...So then Touch Me held the dragon's head over Ulbert's crotch until he apologized to Bukubukuchagama. I think if it hadn't looked like Peroroncino was going to get off on the whole thing… well she forgave him anyway, and they were still laughing about it two years later." Ainz said, laughing himself as he talked of his old friend's doings. "The dragon wasn't very happy, but... well he chose the wrong party to attack. Useful scales at least, I think we have some left in the treasury still, one of these days I'll have it made into some armor."
Neia and Skana gawked as the guardians laughed at the story. Gods horsing around with dragons and using them for pranks was… a bit much. An encounter with a dragon was a thing of legend… if you survived it, but to the Supreme Beings, they were like puppies or kittens.
"Neia, Skana, you should try this. It was a favorite beverage of one of my friends." Ainz said and raised his hand to call for a server. A mushroom headed female approached.
"Sire?" She asked and whipped out a pad and quill.
"Arrogant Bastard Ale, two of them for my…" Ainz paused and took a long look at Neia, her face was one of stone, blank as if it were skeletal itself, he thought of their encounter on the wall, when she carried his power into the world though it tore her flesh to ribbons to do so. He recalled standing before her at her wedding, and how much it meant to her, and the moment she was sure she was going to perish, her all but inaudible farewell. He could have said any one of a dozen titles, he could have said 'dragon rider' or, 'pope', or 'follower', but as he recalled her absolute devotion, and the look she gave to him as she was cradled in his arms, there was only one word to say, and it felt not just right, but even 'good' to say it, "...daughter, and her wife."
Neia was woman of duality, driven and professional, but personable and longing for affection seldom gotten, disciplined and cunning, but passionate and filled with rage when crossed. These dual natures warred within and kept her face unknowable save for a treasured few. But anyone but the blind could tell that she was deeply moved by what he'd said just at that moment. The guardians took it in stride, but more than one was shaken by the almost revelation-like casual statement.
Yet he was the master of the tomb, if he said white was black and black was white, then they would accept it. That did not mean it was less of a shock. Skana kept her face neutral, but clutched tight to the hand of her wife, restraining a wince as Neia's grip went tight enough with joy that it hurt even her.
She noticed that Demiurge's face seemed to be more than just relaxed, it seemed to be calculating, and in that instant, Skana understood the sort of person the tailed demon was, a creature of thought and calculation who saw everything in terms of plans and goals. In other circumstances, Skana might have felt unease, as it was, that was a relief. Easier to cope with a calm acceptance than anything else, and too, a thoughtful mind on their side was always for the good.
The attending servant returned a moment later and placed two glass bottles in front of the newly married couple and popped the caps off of them. Neia and Skana picked the bottles up and raised them in a toast, "To the Sorcerer King, and all who stand beneath him, may his will guide the whole of the world, now and forever!" Neia said enthusiastically, creating a toast that each of the guardians could get behind, they drank enthusiastically.
"This is… amazing." Skana said when she drained the bottle, "It's so intense, so rich and strong, but with a clean taste like water from melted snow. Sire, if you encounter another kingdom of dwarves, send them this as a sample, offer to give them some every year if they submit, and they'll surrender on the spot just to get more of it." She grinned and raised the empty bottle so that the server would know to bring her another.
"Truly, a marvel, and speaking as a soldier, I could not ask for better." Neia reiterated, and raised her own empty bottle to request another for herself.
"This is, and will continue to be… a truly marvelous day." Neia added enthusiastically. "It is a shame I've still got a war to fight tomorrow, but for now, let us eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die!" She raised another bottle with an enthusiastic smile and a growing blush on her face.
...South of Prart…
Retreating. Suchala hated it. As she rode next to him, Yuri felt no better about it than he. But they were able to flee mostly unopposed save for a handful of vengeful raids. "So do you really think we can find support in the South for an independent kingdom? Or is this just some mad hope you've thrown out just to keep from falling into despair?" He asked Yuri curiously.
The clip clop noise of horses was all he heard in response for awhile, he didn't mind, she was clearly thinking about it. "You want my honest opinion?" She asked him with a serious expression on her face.
"I do." He responded gravely.
"The chances aren't great. Your best bet is to take over some small coastal city, strip it of any building materials you can, and take ship over the sea and land on your own coast. The saving grace here is that Queen Calca does not want to kill anyone, and everybody she 'had' to put down is dead. Remedios, Astraka, and most of his northern supporters are wiped out. When we get to Yanana we can talk to the priests and see what they think. It all depends on who we put at the head of a potential kingdom." Yuri said pragmatically.
"You've given this some thought." Suchala said suspiciously.
"I'm from the south, we tend to look down on the north, most of the wealth was with us, we had the greater part of the industry and the mining operations, and after Jaldabaoth, well it was often said that we should just cut the north off like the diseased limb it was." Yuri replied. "I'm a squire, I've attended a number of nobles over the years because I'm especially good at making sure they get home alive, southern independence came up a lot over the years." She shrugged passively.
"What do you make our odds of getting back?" Suchala asked further.
"Very good, I'd say most of Prart and its army will be dead drunk, with both happiness and beer, for the next few days, and even what isn't will be too exhausted to chase us. Even with those damnable undead mounts, the riders themselves will be worn out from the fighting. Ifw ee keep up the head start and do a long forced march south, we can make it with minimal risks. It won't be a walk in hell like it was to get north the first time." Yuri suggested optimistically.
"I guess that all we can do is make this as fast as we can, and see what waits for us." Suchala said with a voice full of frustration.
"When is that not true?" Yuri said fatalistically.
"Aren't you a ray of fucking sunshine?" Suchala asked with wry sarcasm.
Yuri smirked, "I'm a paid killer, it's why I do what I do, because I like killing, I like the look of desperation and fear on the faces of people just before I run my sword through them. I'm not Neia, loyal to the gods or her family honor, I have only one loyalty, and that is to whoever lets me use my sword most brutally. That happens to be you, like it happened to be Remedios before that idiot got herself killed. I don't have to be cheerful, I just have to be good at what I do."
Suchala raised an eyebrow at this, "Are you?"
Her hand darted out and was under his chin almost before he could blink. "What do you think?" She asked flatly.
"Fair enough." He replied with an approving nod, and onward south they rode.
...Crossroads…
Rascal watched the long line of slaves finally finish their sullen trudging out of the gate. If he blinked during the entire time, Moira and the rest had missed it. Questionings were rising but he was not looking like someone eager to start speaking.
When the groaning of the gate closing inward began, several of the rescued numbers looked antsy, twitching as if they wanted to run after the slaves and get out. Only the fact that Moira and Rascal were unmoving kept them from taking the chance their nerves were telling them they had to seize.
"Let's go." Rascal said, grim faced and sullen, he turned on his heel and walked away.
Mananak fell into step behind him, "What the hell was that?" He asked when they'd moved well away.
"Nothing." Rascal said slowly.
"That didn't look like nothing." Moira said from behind him in a concerned tone.
"In the Slane Theocracy, it's nothing. And unless you've forgotten, that is exactly where we are. Let. It. Go." He said forcefully.
One of his slender companions chose to change the subject, "Speaking of going, where exactly are we s'posed to go? Unless you've got a house here, we're stuck on the street for the time being."
Rascal looked back at him, "You know, now that we've got a minute, I guess I didn't get some of your names. I know Moira and Mananak, but not the rest of you. We'll find a place to stay in a bit, for now I guess we should make with the introductions, yeah?"
"Fine, I'm Nagi. Alpha company fourth squad, best damn halberdier in General Enri's army." The slender man said with smug confidence as he slapped his chest proudly.
"Maybe don't announce you're with General Enri, idiot." Moira sighed and slapped her palm to her face. He looked somewhat embarrassed as she pointed out his indiscretion.
"The name's Ham, same company as Nagi, but I usually use a hammer or a mace, I'm fair to middling with it technique wise but…" He paused and pulled a flex, thrusting his arms out and raising his forearms up to show powerful muscles, "they call me tree breaker for a reason."
"As for me," a middlingly sized young man said in a voice more befitting a teenage boy who was blooming late, than a man of the years he must surely have had, "doesn't matter what my name is, I never answer to it anyway, my friends just call me 'Owl' and I'll answer to that."
"Why do they call you that?" Moira asked.
"Who?" Owl asked in return, and winked.
"Ugh… never mind." Moira replied.
"And best for last, I'm Petyr, I was a smith back before coming south, pretty good at it too, but I figured I could do more holding weapons than making them. But, the job did leave its mark." He said and held out his hands, showing off the many small burn scars and marks from his hands to his forearms.
"Alright, enough of that, we need some place to stay tonight, anybody have any coins? We could probably survive outside but, it'll be cold," Rascal looked up at the sky, "and I think it'll rain soon."
The rest of his party looked up at the sky, there were no clouds to speak of.
"Why do you say that?" Owl asked curiously.
Rascal opened his hands to his sides and said passively, "Because it will, just trust me. Now do we have any money or don't we?"
The impromptu team of survivors rapidly went through the confiscated clothing and purses to see what their unfortunate victims had on them. "I've got a handful of Theocracy coppers." Moira said as she drew her hand from the coinpurse and held it open. "What will that get us?"
"Thrown the hell out." Rascal said bluntly. "Anyone else?"
"I've got… two coppers, and… " Owl bit his lip as he fished around in his pocket grabbing for something, "ah, a silver. Guess that drunk was a lightweight when it came to booze." He grinned.
As the rest pulled out bits of coin and dirt from their pockets, Rascal half regretted the lack of wealthy citizens to put down. He sighed, "This gets us two rooms, we'll have to share. Six faces turned to Moira.
"What?" She asked bluntly. "I slept with an army that was almost entirely men, you think I'm going to go faint at sharing a room with two or three of you? Please." She rolled her eyes, "Just remember that wandering body parts will get cut off, and it'll be fine." She snorted, and then laughed as they looked a little uncomfortable.
An hour or so later they found themselves following Rascal into what was little more than a two story woodshed, the doors were little better than splinters that had been glued back together, the floor was dirt and the first floor was mostly a tavern with the heavy stench of unwashed bodies.
"Two rooms, three beds each." Rascal said and dropped the coin purse down in front of him at the counter. The woman behind it was grimy, smelled as bad as the patrons, and wore clothing that had long ceased to be anything but the patches she'd sewn to the original. The color of her hair was 'grease', and the color of her skin was 'dirt'. She fit right in.
"Syte." She grumbled and poured the coins into her hands. " 'll do, c'mon." She said and trudged up the steps. They creaked like they were going to collapse, but if she was worried about it, or the small holes in the walls that termites had eaten through, she didn't show it.
"'Ere, an ere." She said in a voice that was clearly tired of living, and she gestured to two rooms on opposite sides of one another.
There were no handles, knobs, locks, or latches, it was simply 'pushed' open one way or the other.
"No locks?" Petyr asked.
She folded her arms and gave him a death stare. "'If'n yer scared, get out'n find another place. This's whatcha get othawise." She spat on the floor of the hallway and waited.
"It's fine, we'll take them." Rascal said hurriedly and went into the room on the right, followed by Moira and Owl, leaving the other room to their companions.
"So, anyone have a plan?" Owl said as he went to a nearby bed and flopped himself down on it. It collapsed underneath him, slamming him to the floor with a violent thud. They snapped their eyes over to him, but he didn't move, he simply put one foot over the other, folded his hands underneath his head and looked up like nothing had happened.
"Why the hell did you do that?" Moira said with annoyance.
"You who? Do what? No idea what you're talking about." Owl said with a completely serious expression on his face.
"Never mind." She said with a groan.
Owl smirked, then asked, "OK, the plan?"
"Wait until the others join us." Rascal said with some annoyance in his voice.
They did not wait long, soon the seven of them were in a room together, some odd looks went to Owl's bed, but he pretended it was all perfectly normal, so they said nothing.
"We've got three choices as I see it." Moira suggested. "We can hide until the city falls, we can try to break out, or we can try to help our friends outside to take it from within."
Petyr frowned, "The easy one is hiding, but I'm not much for that."
Nagi grumbled, "Me neither, but how much can we do, there's only seven of us in here. We're an undermanned squad at best, with one sword between us, no money, and we don't know where anything is or have any way to communicate with anyone beyond the walls."
Ham sat cross legged on the floor and held his hands folded together in his lap. "So what? We aren't without other weapons."
"Other weapons?" Mananak asked dubiously, "What other weapons?"
Ham grinned wolfishly, "Simple, the fact that nobody knows we're here. We're an unknown combat element, which means we have the element of surprise. If we're lucky the escape was covered up by the prison, or they've captured the ones we switched clothes with and have thrown those into a pit in the dungeon thinking they recaptured us. Or better, they've even killed them thinking they were us and tossed the bodies in a pit somewhere, any way you slice it, we may be an x factor that they can't predict or account for, and being unknown counts for a lot."
"How so? A sword is a sword, isn't it?" Moira asked curiously.
Ham smiled and looked away as if remembering something. "Long time ago when I was a boy, there was this kid, bigger'n all the rest, he used to like to take stuff from me an' all the others who were younger'n he was. So one day, I tried to fight im, didn't play out too well, truth be told he kicked my ass. So after I'd licked my wounds, I got to thinkin about why I lost, an the reason was on account of I went after him on his terms. See him being big'n all, an' me be'in still small, I didn't have much chance. So I got two or three other small kids that didn't like im, an' I paid them to charge him so he was all set to kick their little asses too. Well he was halfway there when he tripped over the rope I'd buried a little in the road. I pulled it tight just before he got there, and he fell on his face. Then I ran out, and kicked him there, and I kept doing it. Broke a bunch of his ribs, a wrist, his nose, and knocked out a few teeth. Told im if he didn't give back everythin he took, he was go'na be a lot worse off. He din't."
Ham 's predatory smile got wider. "First few days after he got better, he kept tryin to fight me, but I avoided im, but then I started ambushin him. He stepped in pits where he'd sprain his ankle, or I'd get a few kids to ambush im an I'd get im from behind and break somethin, few days later he stayed in'is house till his momma made him go out to work. He'd had enough, he gave everthing back." Ham laughed, "Good times. Anyway, point is, the little like us can fight the big, they got a lotta places we can hit, an they don't even know we're here, got me?"
Rascal chuckled, "You'd have made a helluva Scripture member."
Six faces looked at him, in askance.
"What?" Rascal said innocently. "You don't have to like them to admit that they're good at what they do."
"That is true… but I'd have thought you'd say a 'member of the hundred' or something? Little strange to praise the enemy." Moira said with a little frown.
Rascal coughed uncomfortably, "Talent is talent, you don't have to call it right, to call it competent." He cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject, "So, we're not regular army here, we're a rogue organization as it is, nobody is going to force anyone to any choice, each of you can decide for yourselves, no grudges, no criticisms. Who wants to fight?" He asked, all seven hands went up without hesitation.
Seven faces had very predatory looks, but on Rascal's face there was a bloodthirsty look like they'd never seen before on him. "They'll never know what hit them." He said happily.
-end chapter-