Year 10, Day 37 / Of Monsters and Men
Though the troops had barely the time to rest, Garret managed to convince both Lady le Blanc and the guard-captain of the caravan to allow a second attempt at the rescue operation. Once morning came, they again began trekking through the snow, searching for their missing colleagues. Though they kept a low profile to avoid attracting attention, progress was faster this time. It didn't take long for them to creep up to the ravine.
When they arrived at the suspected ambush site, Garret ordered a guard and one of his sorcerers to climb its side and, when they found the top clear, sent the rest of the troops after them. When he reached the top himself, Garret glanced around. What he saw made his heart skip a beat. Further along the edge were sets of fresh tracks – no doubt from the monsters. He'd been right. They would have been ambushed if they went further… Thank the Goddess…
"Everyone stay low… we must be getting close…"
Ordering the group's silence, Garret signaled for them to follow the footprints, betting that they'd lead to the monster's camp. They had to be careful, but at the same time, they couldn't afford to delay.
Without rangers or anyone who specialized in stealth, being spotted by the monsters was a forgone conclusion. As the soldiers crept around a large boulder, they found themselves at the base of an embankment leading up to a plateau. At the top, stood an Orc, who wasted no time in squealing the alarm when she spotted them.
"Everyone, go! Charge! Get to the top of the hill!"
The incline wasn't terribly steep or long, so Garret made the decision to attack, hoping they'd make it up and organize before the monsters could descend upon them. If they retreated now, who knew what would happen to their friends, and if they didn't move quickly, they'd be stuck fighting a literal up-hill battle. Aggression was their only option! Scrambling for the high ground, the soldiers broke into a run, through the snow.
Though Garret feared the worst, the battle against the disorganized orcs turned out to be just as much of a slaughter as every other village operation he'd taken part in. A handful of the faster ones made it to the edge, but without the magic of a shaman shielding them, the spells of Garret's students annihilated them before they could engage the caravan's foot soldiers.
Once his forces reached the top, The Order had no trouble advancing. Though they were outnumbered four-to-one, the horde was in complete chaos. Evidently they hadn't been expecting an attack after the night had passed, nor retained having the moral to stand and fight. A portion of the mamono turned and ran, fleeing the carnage as best as their pudgy bodies could. Another fraction of them froze with uncertainty, and though the remainder of them tried to resist, before combat had even started, a third of the orc's camp was, effectively, out of the fight.
Speaking in pure numbers, that might have still been enough, but against disciplined formation fighting, and number of magicians acting as force-multipliers, there was no way they could win. With half of the frontline being dazzled by distracting spells, or pelted with deadly ones, the sword and spearmen of The Order had no trouble sweeping them aside.
Whenever a surprisingly tough batch of orcs was found, Garret and le Blanc dealt with them personally, sweeping away the opposition with raging fires or swirling storms of sand that stripped skin from bone. In record time, their enemies were dealt with, but though he should have been pleased with their success, Garret felt a pang of guilt.
How many years had it been since he'd been part of an operation like this? When was the last time he'd seen this much slaughter? It'd been ages – long enough to, while not forget, at least mute the memories of his first crusade. Seeing the screaming face of a beautiful woman as le Blanc's sands stripped it of flesh, or the howls of pain as he set a group aflame, were starting to bring them back, though… Just how many had he killed in such horrible ways?
He clenched his teeth, forced his mind back to the battle at hand, and tried to think logically. Ruthlessly. They had been attacked first; the orc's brought this on themselves. Turning to le Blanc, Garret pointed in the direction of the fleeing orcs.
"If they escape, they'll found another village, and in a few year's time, we'll be fighting twice as many as before. Take the soldiers and chase them down. My sorcerers will clear the settlement."
Morgan nearly looked offended when she heard that, instinctively balking at the idea of someone beneath her giving her orders… but Garret had been the one in charge of this mission, so technically, he was within his authority. She gave a curt nod, and then voiced her own orders to the men. Though not a military officer by any means, there was little in the way of strategy needed here. Once she was gone, Garret got his students organized, and got them moving towards their own objective.
The orc's village, if you could call it that, stood at the rear of the plateau. Fitting for a semi-nomadic species of monster, half the buildings were just stone or wood foundations, with canvas or skin tent canopies, able to be packed up at a moment's notice. While effective against the weather, these offered precious little shelter against spell-fire, though, and the handful of hiding monsters that remained soon found themselves with no escape route, nor barriers to shield them.
Surprisingly, the settlement's population consisted almost entirely of women. Amongst the dwellings of the horde, Garret's troops found only a single pair of (utterly exhausted) incubi. They, along with their missing guards, were shackled in a larger building, who's smell meant it could only be described as a 'breeding tent'.
After ordering the men and women (thankfully, still human) to be dragged to a safer spot, and the incubi, to be executed, Garret was left to ponder the situation. No wonder they'd attacked… two men for all those monsters? He tried to imagine how an Order settlement would fair if it consisted of dozens of men, and a single woman. Probably not well… settlements had failed for less, before, and their instincts for procreation were far weaker than the mamono… Did those monsters really have a choice?
Well if they didn't have a choice, that just meant they had no place in the world. It was humans against monsters, and Garret was determined for humans to win. He couldn't back down. Not after what happened. He'd – THEY'D! They'd. The monsters had killed Annika. He could never forgive that… He couldn't let what happened go unavenged, so it was ok that he was doing this.
Right?
The largest tent-building, around which, all others were arrayed, seemed to be the ritual chamber of the late high orc. When Garret and his students burst through the door, they found themselves face-to-face with two of her underlings, judging by the similar, if less impressive, tribal markings and robes. The monsters rummaged around the tent, evidently trying to pack as many ritual ingredients into sacks as possible, but had become so engrossed in the task they hadn't left enough time escape.
When the lesser orcs saw the sorcerers charging in, they froze for a moment, then attacked with blasts of magic. Coming from a species with little aptitude for spells, however, Garret found the projectiles slow and easy to dodge. Even when one hit an absent-minded magician, it only staggered them as the force knocked them back, doing nothing in the way of permanent damage. It barely took any effort to overwhelm their enemies.
With the monsters dispatched, Garret took a moment to look around. Shelves full of reagents occupied most of the space along the edges of the structure, with bedrolls or rudimentary furniture taking up the rest. On the far side, tied to a post that had been sunk into the ground, Garret spotted one of his missing pupils. The woman looked tired. Sick. Bruised skin and clothes, soiled by dirt from the bare earth floor and other, mysterious fluids, told of her unpleasant treatment.
"Ms. Farlan. Are you alright?"
The woman weakly nodded as Garret called her last name and strode over to untie her. Seeing her appearance up close, though, limited his trust in that. Colourful, purple stains dotted her shirt… and that colour matched the concoction of the cauldron, ominously bubbling in the center of the tent.
"… Please tell me they didn't make you drink any of that?"
Unfortunately, he got an affirmative response, causing him to cuss. He didn't know what was in there, but he'd witnessed the effects of monster alchemy one too many times. He had to get her treated, quickly.
"Stay here. Once we clear the rest of the camp, we'll come back and get you to a priest. Understood?"
Again, his student nodded.
"Good."
Turning back to the rest of the sorcerers crowding the tent, he shouted for them to split up and clear the buildings in parallel. They had to make things fast. They might not have much time.
Most of the structures after that were empty, allowing him to progress at speed. With only a handful of tent-buildings to go, Garret briefly allowed himself to hope that his captured and abused student was the worst thing he would see, but sadly that hope proved to be false.
In one of the last structures, an older-looking orc tried to bar his path. He easily swept her aside and stepped over the bleeding corpse, but as he entered the tent, high pitched squeals announced his arrival. Suddenly, Garret found himself assaulted by haunting memories.
"Please, sir, choose mercy!"
"Our village was peaceful!"
"DAMN IT, GARRET!"
Those voices. The smell of smoke. Visions of a pit full of charred bodies, and the feeling of his sword against a monster child. A flood of sensations crashed over him, causing Garret to recoil, like someone had jammed a dagger into his gut.
Why?! Why here? WHY NOW?! Desperately trying to stay in control, he forced a spell, but his hand only sparked. His mind, overwhelmed with the flashbacks, found itself incapable of focusing long enough to command his magic, so instead, he shouted an order with a voice far more ragged than usual.
"Jecks! Stenzel! A monster is a monster, even a child is an enemy for life! You know what to do!"
The two students who'd accompanied him looked at each other, then at Garret, their discomfort plainly visible.
"If you can't follow commands, you're worthless to The Order! Do it!"
Trusting their teacher and officer, like good soldiers, the two conjured a pair of reluctant spells and did 'what needed to be done'. Soon, the two children they'd found, lay dead.
"Good."
Trying to hold back the bile rising in his throat, Garret praised his pupils.
"There's no such thing as an innocent monster. Harden your hearts, and trust in the necessity of what you just did. It'll serve you well in the future."
A pair of half-hearted 'Yes, sir's came as their response, and Garret nodded, 'pleased', before sending them out to help the other groups still checking tents.
Then he fell to his knees.
With no one around to see him, Garret's façade of calculating ruthlessness crumpled, and he gasped, trying to stop himself from vomiting. Who was he kidding? How could there be any justification for this? They were barely five years old, for God's sake…
The remainder of the cleanup went smoothly, much to Garret's relief. Not having to command gave him time to compose himself – time he desperately needed. Le Blanc's own mission seemed to proceed without issue either, and when her forces returned, she greeted Garret with a slight nod.
"Captain. We tracked and killed every orc we could find, everything went according to plan."
She glanced over his shoulder, at the sorcerers milling about, and the burning structures behind them.
"I take it you found success as well?"
Garret also nodded, but spoke quickly, his voice emphasizing the urgency of their situation.
"Yes, but the taken troops need to be purified quickly… and one of my sorceresses was made to drink something strange. We need to return to the convoy's priest, fast."
Le Blanc paused a moment to think, then, with a tilt of her head, and a confident voice, offered unexpected salvation.
"I have energy to spare. I can teleport with her, if need be."
That was exactly what he needed…
"Do it. She's in the main tent, I'll get everyone else home."
Hearing his curt reply, the noblewoman didn't waste time answering, and departed with a run. Maybe, just maybe, they'd make it in time for once.
"How is she, father?"
A more dedicated man, Garret could not have asked for. The priest, though old, had worked through the previous night to cleanse the caravan's soldiers, and with only a few hours of rest, had returned to assist their troops today. He'd treated the kidnapped, and now, was nursing the captured sorceress in his wagon, despite his obvious fatigue.
"Only the Goddess knows for sure."
After he finished a prayer for the woman, and passed a healing light over her again, he stood up, cleaned his hands and addressed Garret.
"I've purified all the demon energy I could, but whatever they made her drink has been emitting more."
"Could we induce vomiting?"
"I already have, but the poor girl was force-fed a lot of the stuff… Some of it has probably already been absorbed. She's in the hands of the Goddess now."
Damn… Garret looked down at his student, who'd long-since succumbed to the exhaustion of her ordeal and fallen asleep. He wished there was something they could do for her…
"I'll keep… I'll keep cleansing her as often as I can."
The priest yawned, and Garret took that as his cue to leave. The man could definitely use some rest of his own.
"Thank you, Father. You're a blessing to our mission…"
Day 39
As the days crept by, Farlan's condition failed to improve. Even as the caravan reached its destination and began to set up camp around the ruins, she still found herself barely able to move. Hour after hour, the priest kept having to purify the accumulating demonic energy. Though she tried to stay positive, if only for the other students, who'd made a habit of checking in on her, Garret could sense her trepidation – a feeling he likewise shared.
"Captain, do… do you think I'm going to be ok?"
Garret refused to be absent when one of his students was struggling, so he also paid regular visits to the infirm woman. It was during one of these short times, when the priest had left the tent, that she asked him that. Without hesitation, and with the steady voice of an officer, Garret replied as if he hadn't a doubt in the world.
"Unquestionably. That priest is good, he'll keep you safe."
"But he's had to get rid of demon energy from me every day… where is it coming from?"
"We don't know. Probably from remnants of whatever they made you drink."
Hearing that, the woman's expression sunk, and Garret tried to reassure her.
"Don't worry… It can't keep this up forever. Everything runs out of power eventually. We'll just have to keep purifying you until it stops, and then you'll be right as rain."
Day 41
Two days later, Garret was confronted with an end to his forced optimism. Though his words and confidence seemed to calm his student, when he checked on her again, he spied something wrong with her hair.
"That's uh… One moment, hold still."
He interrupted their conversation and crouched down to brush a bit of her hair away. This revealed roots that were bleaching white. And a patch of dark skin underneath it.
"Is something wrong, Captain?"
He shook his head.
"No. I thought I saw something, but it's nothing."
Day 45
From there on out, the changes came quicker. A yellow iris one day. A patch of dark skin, another. Garret knew there was no coming back from this, but so long as she didn't realize what was happening, he and the priest avoided mentioning it. When Farlan awoke one morning to find her hand tinted, though, the changes became impossible to ignore. Her shriek drew Garret, the priest, and a handful of concerned classmates to her tent. There, they found her curled up in the corner of her cot, clutching at her hand.
"W-What's happening to me?!"
The priest grabbed her arm, extending and passing a purifying light over it, but both and Garret knew it was just theatrics. Once physical changes began, there was no going back. Whatever she'd drank must have inflicted changes beyond just a demonic energy infusion… or maybe the cumulative effects of it, despite the purification, had finally won out. Crossing his arms, Garret looked down at her, and answered with a somber voice.
"You're turning into a monster."
Farlan froze, and her face, though tinted, drained of colour when she heard that.
"A… A monster?"
The calm lasted only a moment, before the shrieking resumed, and the terrified girl clutched frantically at the priest.
"No! I can't! Please, Please! There must be something you can do!"
Garret quickly shooed the other students out of the tent, and drew the door, but they had no way to stop the noise from filtering out. Soon, the entire camp would know what was happening.
Hearing her pleas, the healer shook his head, sadly.
"We can only pray to our Goddess. If she wills it, the changes will reverse. If she doesn't, then… it's all in her plan."
While true, what she was hearing did nothing to calm her, and Farlan became increasingly unraveled.
"No… No… No, I don't want to become a monster! I CAN'T become a monster! I can't, I can't, I can't, I CAN'T!"
"Captain, I'm going to sedate her. You should go to your other students an-OOF."
When the priest turned to speak with Garret, he was cut off by his patient diving at him, the fatigue from her condition, overridden by the adrenaline of her panic. Before he could stop her, the woman had seized the dagger kept in his belt, and jammed it into her wrist, trying to sever her afflicted hand.
"I WON'T! I WON'T BECOME A MONSTER!"
Blood sprayed the tent as shrieks of pain and curses from Garret resounded. He grabbed the woman and wrestled her to the ground, wrenching the dagger from her hand in the process. Then he had to pull back, keeping his weight on her, but lifting his head and turning away to try to avoid her hands and teeth as she clawed and bit at him, trying to escape.
"NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME, FATHER!"
The priest worked fast, casting a holy spell of sleep, and a moment later, the outburst was over. Panting, Garret helped to bandage the wound, then lift her back to her bed. When the priest moved to examine his own scratches and cuts, he sighed.
"… I don't suppose you've ever seen a way to come back from this, Father?"
The man shook his head as a somber air returned to the tent.
"I'll keep her comfortable as best as I can, until her time comes."
"Thank you, Father."
When Garret stepped out of the tent, his robes stained in a mixture of her and his own blood, he found a horrified crowd of students waiting around its entrance. Fear and worry twisted their faces, but there was nothing they could do.
"… The priest sedated her, so she's sleeping now. If she's calm when she wakes up, you should take the time to visit her. … You might not get another chance."
Murmurs sounded from amongst the sorcerers, but Garret didn't feel like answering questions. He sent them off, back to their duties, then made his way to his own post. During his walk, Le Blanc called out to him, having spotted his depressed demeanor, and asked if he was alright. He just brushed her off, though, and she, having heard the screams, was kind enough not to force him.
"Everything's fine, my lady… Everything's fine."
Day 46
By the following morning, the tainted skin from Farlan's hand had crept up her arm and began spreading across her chest. Lopsided breasts, as the darker one swelled, were another indication of the changes happening, as was her hair, which had now almost entirely faded to white. Thankfully, the woman had calmed down a bit, once she woke up, but was that from her accepting her fate, or from the influence of the corruption?
After he'd finished a shift guarding the workers as they excavated some half-buried ruins, Garret returned to check on his pupil again. Upon entering the tent, he was immediately confronted by a strange scent. The woman, or at least, the corrupted parts of her, were emitting that same, strange odour he'd smelled when their camp was attacked. She was turning into a high orc, probably destined to replace the fallen shaman.
"Father? If you have a moment?"
Addressing the priest, Garret waited until his ministrations were finished, then stepped outside to speak with him.
"That smell is disarming, and it's only going to get worse."
Garret quickly glanced at their surroundings. The camp's immediate location seemed safe enough, but mountains holding who-knows-what were only a short trek away, as was a thick forest. And it was impossible to camouflage a dig-site.
"We're still in dangerous territory, we can't have the soldiers being influenced by it. Father, have you ever seen a miracle saving someone this far gone before?"
Though Garret hoped. Prayed. That he would hear some good news, the priest shook his head, sadly. Both of them knew what was coming.
"All we can do is trust in our Goddess."
"Yeah… Well… 'Trust your Goddess, but tether your horse.'. I'm making the call. She's done, we can't risk it. … But thank you, Father, for trying anyways."
As the priest returned to the tent, Garret began to walk around the camp, pulling rank to (temporarily) replace his on-duty sorcerers with other guards. While many were just acquaintances with the doomed girl, he figured everyone would appreciate the chance to say 'goodbye'… and could learn from what was about to happen.
"That's it, then? Anything left to say? Any final words?"
Though he hadn't explicitly told his students what would happen to their peer, everyone already knew. Possibly, even Farlan, though the stream of visiting friends had enough tact to avoid bringing it up. Once everyone had gotten the chance to speak with her, Garret instructed them to wait outside, then stepped into the tent himself. Taking a seat on the cot opposite hers, Garret glanced over his pupil.
"How are you feeling, Farlan?"
"I'm… ok, I guess?"
Both he and the groggy woman knew that was a lie, but Garret played along regardless.
"Good… And your wounds? Your condition? Does anything hurt?"
"No, it… it feels good. It feels really good… why does it feel so good, Captain?"
"It's just the way monsters work. It's their way of convincing you to accept it."
What was he supposed to say to someone like this? Garret had trouble finding words. He wanted to comfort her, but… how? Awkward silence filled the air, but a minute later, he spotted a tear on Farlan's cheek, and she began to apologize.
"I… I'm scared, Captain… I'm so sorry! I screwed up, I-"
"Don't you dare blame yourself."
The woman stiffened as she heard this, but before she could say anything, Garret leaned over, placed a hand on her shoulder, and continued.
"You were one of the only people to break out of that shaman's spell. You tried to fight when no one else could. You've acquitted yourself far better than I could have ever hoped, I am proud to call you my student."
"Thank you, sir…"
Another break in the conversation. Another awkward silence. At least, hearing that, the woman looked a bit more at peace, and eventually she closed her eyes and murmured.
"… So what happens now?"
"Now? You get some rest. Don't worry, Farlan. Everything's going to be alright."
The students outside might not have known exactly what was going on, but the tent lighting up with a flash of fire clarified everything. When Garret stepped outside, he addressed the stunned crowd.
"You all saw what happened to her. You saw how scared she was the other day. This is why we fight: so that no one, ever, has to go through something like that again. … Now return to your posts, and try to stay focused. We still have a job to do."
The group dispersed and wandered away with sullen faces, leaving Garret alone with his thoughts. Thinking back to Farlan, he wondered if she'd have been as distressed if she hadn't been taught for years that monsters were horrible, irredeemable beasts. The transformation felt good, he'd heard that multiple times before. In another life, with a less zealous instructor or a more liberal society, would she have welcomed it instead?
Would she still be alive?
These thoughts stayed with Garret as he helped the priest dispose of the body, and tried to burry himself in his work as a distraction. The last few days had been dredging up far too many unwelcome questions, and the answers he'd previously held unassailable were starting to break down.
Day 50
The delays to their march, and the slower-than-expected progress of excavation meant the trip would run longer than initially planned. At least they finally got some good news, when there was a break-through on the twentieth day. Excited shouts from the dig-site signaled the event, and before long, le Blanc came calling as Garret stood guard.
"Captain, we've made progress. The entrance to the ruins has been uncovered, and we can proceed inside. I'll need you and a few of your mages to accompany me for security, along with my other guards."
Immediately, they hit a non-starter, and Garret said as much.
"My sorcerers are staying put. I'll come, but the rest will stand guard over the camp."
That earned him a hard look of disapproval from le Blanc, but he stood his ground.
"With one errant spell, the whole structure could come down on our heads. If you don't want that, I'd suggest not bringing novice mages who could panic and cast wildly. I'm sure we can handle anything we find down there."
Of course the true reason was that, having just lost one of his own, Garret was not going to risk any more on a political favour. This annoyed Le Blanc, but she eventually agreed, either seeing his logic, or sensing his determination. Thankfully, she didn't try to force anything on him this time.
The interior of the old, half-buried fortress was as bare as bare could be. Dangerous too. The ancient structure was constantly at risk of collapse, and though Morgan's archeomancy highlighted weak floors and crumbling supports, it was still traitorous work. At least the architecture was their only worry. While the dusty, stale air proved sufficient to support them, the lack of water or food meant they found no signs of life within. If nothing else, they wouldn't have to fight here.
Slowly and carefully, the group picked their way through the empty structure, and periodically, Morgan cast a guidance spell to give them direction. Ninety percent of the rooms were of no interest to them, but whatever her spell had locked on to, seemed promising. Step by step, the trail of shimmering magic lead them deep into the bowels of the earth.
Unlike the mageworks of Hafe, magical infrastructure in this fortress seemed to be confined to single rooms, with no pipes or wires leading between them. The deeper they went, the more scattered occurrences of glowstones or other curios, they found, but nothing indicated hinted at grand workshops or machinery. Despite this, when they reached the object of their search, they found exactly that. Through two grand, rotted doors (which had to be carefully broken open), the group found themselves in a room crammed full of magical machinery and strange, glass eggs in each corner of the room.
"I think… this will do nicely."
Stepping forward and brushing the dust from the surface of one of the eggs, le Blanc commented on the room and its contents.
"More automata. It seems whatever empire used to span Tilia, also reached up into Naton."
"It must have been pretty powerful…"
"Mhmm…"
His flames acting as their source of light, Garret sent the sputtering fireball to hover in the middle of the room, before also joining the wizard in surveying it. Ignoring the machinery, for he had no idea what amongst them was important, Garret moved to the metal shelves and lockers arrayed along the wall, pulling them open with loud squeals.
Their interiors were, like the rest of the fortress, mostly bare. In one of them, he spotted what looked like the rotted remains of some work clothes, partially preserved by the dryness of the air, but still more akin to 'scraps' than anything usable. Of more interest was another locker, which contained an ancient, tarnished holy symbol that bore a striking resemblance to The Order's own insignias.
"It seems they worshiped the Chief Goddess too."
Turning it over, Garret spotted a prayer engraved on its rear. Though old and dirty, the text was surprisingly readable. Indeed, it barely deviated from the modern language Garret was used to. He couldn't make everything out, but the gist of it was a prayer for deliverance and for protection from the charms of monsters.
"They fought mamono as well… Do you know how old this place is, my lady?"
"I haven't a clue… but if they were fighting monsters, probably two, maybe three hundred years old. I've seen newer artifacts in worse shape before."
Maybe, but… the air was super dry here. Garret was no archeologist, but it felt like things could remain in decent shape for eons in a place like this.
"Any way to know for sure? A spell, maybe?"
Le Blanc barely looked up from her work, examining the machinery as she spoke.
"No. … Well, not one that I know of. Temporal spells are notoriously difficult, I'd need to dedicate all of Tilia's mage's guild to researching it if we wanted something that could give us precise dates."
Then she paused, looking thoughtful.
"Though maybe, if one only wanted an approximation, we could…"
After a moment's consideration, she waved it away.
"Irrelevant. That would still require my own research, and I have neither the time, nor inclination for it. Returning to the task at hand, this room is a great find, but we have not the tools to salvage it properly. We can return home, and I'll send for another expedition on a later date."
"We're just going to leave, empty handed?"
"Not empty handed, Captain. We've confirmed the location of more ancient technology. Here, we can salvage more automata, and more parts to repair our machines and keep Tilia running as strong as ever."
"… So my student died for a damn resupply…"
Frustrated, Garret kicked at one of the lockers. Le Blanc, raised an eyebrow, but at least tried to sound sympathetic. Truly, though, he wondered if someone with a position as detached as hers, would ever fully understand the feeling of losing people you'd watched over for years.
"Her loss was tragic… I'm sorry for what happened."
"Not your fault. You weren't the one who forced us into it."
He flicked a side-eyed glance across the room at her.
"… Right?"
Day 57
The trip back to Fort Estlev went, thankfully, without incident, though the depressed air hanging over the sorcery students was ever present. Some were scared and some were angry, but all of them would have to learn to live with death. As combat mages, they'd be surrounded by it constantly once it came time for a proper crusade.
When they reached the main square, before dismissing them, Garret tried to play the part of a supportive commander. He offered a few words of advice and encouraged them to seek council with the priests if they were finding things too much. At least they wouldn't be questioned if they made use of the support available to them. Not like an officer, who had to (unofficially) look competent, in control, and unphased at all times – an appearance visiting the priests would undermine.
When the students had returned to their dorms to unpack and spend the rest of the night how they wished, Garret headed to his own office. He had a letter to write, and he knew it was going to take him all day. Just how the hell was he supposed to tell these parents that their daughter had died? The usual claim of the dead dying as heroes meant precious little, when Garret knew she'd perished at the hands of her own officer in a medical tent, days away from the scene of any fighting.
"So how'd it go?"
The sudden voice caused Garret to start and look up from his (still blank) letter, an hour later. Rick had, seemingly, let himself in without Garret noticing, so fixated was he on his work.
"How'd what go?"
"The guard duty. I heard from a little bird that your school was going to be escorting a convoy. Thought I'd drop by to see myself."
As the man helped himself to a seat, Garret stood up and, arms crossed behind his back, walked over to gaze out a window.
"… Excellent… fan-fucking-tastic…"
He was tempted to leave it at that, but Rick was possibly the one person he could talk about this now that A-… Now that he was working solo. He turned around and leant against the wall, sighing, dejectedly.
"Got ambushed by an horde of orcs. Their shaman enchanted just about everyone in the camp, but I broke out… two of my students broke out…"
He glanced back out the window as a trio of his sorcerers walked by and shrugged.
"They did well. Tried to fight, but didn't last long. After I got things back under control, we managed to save one, but the other…"
He trailed off as his memories drifted back to executing that terrified, afflicted girl… Goddess, she'd barely turned eighteen…
He'd lost people before, and all of them hurt, but there was something different about losing a student. He'd watched her grow from adolescence into adulthood, and from someone who could barely cast a spark, into a proper battlemage. Those semi-paternal feelings were great for motivating him to give his students his best, each and every day, but now, they twisted like a knife in his gut. And then there was the matter of the children…
"What happened?"
Rick gently tried to coax an answer out of him, but Garret just materialized a small flame-spear in his hand, studying it forlornly.
"What do you think happened?"
"… I'm sorry…"
Garret snorted when he heard that.
"What for? Wasn't your fault, and that's a pretty good casualty rate, right? One sorcerer dead, most of the captured soldiers, recovered, and an entire warband slain? I'll be well on my way to a promotion if I keep battles like these coming."
Rick didn't say anything as Garret returned to his desk, the bitterness in his voice more than apparent. He stared at his empty letter for a moment, then slammed a fist down on the desk.
"God DAMN IT, Tilia! Why the fuck couldn't you have used your own guards? My students haven't even graduated yet, why was that ruin so important it couldn't wait?"
"Tilia didn't kill your students, Garret… That was the monsters."
Though Rick tried to calm him, his words did little to comfort Garret, who snorted again.
"Yeah. Well. Actually, it was me who killed her, and can I really blame those orcs? That war band was probably sitting around a fire the night before, talking about how they needed to attack because everyone in The Order was a threat to them… and we are. We just killed their entire camp, men, women and children..."
He leaned back in his seat, and tried to calm down. He was being an ass to Rick, who just wanted to help. Slumping a little, Garret summed up his feelings with a single word.
"Fuck."
The ranger smiled sympathetically at that.
"It's tough, I get it… and I doubt there's much I could say that would help. Want me to pray for you?"
Garret weakly shrugged.
"I'll take all the help I can get at this point…"
Rick nodded when he heard that.
"Alright… then let's begin."
Though Garret appreciated the gesture, there was precious little Rick could do for him. It wasn't that his prayer was useless, mind you, it really did help. Having a close friend rather than a priest lead it gave it a much more comforting feeling. Like there was actual meaning behind the words, rather than mere duty. Despite the lifting of some of his burden, though, there was so much more that remained. While Garret was thankful to have any support he could get, a persistent, dark cloud still hung over him.
"It didn't help much, did it?"
The ranger sensed the lack of improvement in his mood, and Garret replied with a shrug.
"I appreciate you trying."
The pair settled into silence for a while after that, but eventually, once he made sure Garret really was going to be ok, Rick had to take his leave.
"I'll be working in this town for a little while, so I'll visit you again sometime. Take care, Garret."
As he headed for the door, Garret called to him at the last minute, causing him to turn back.
"Hey Rick?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't you… Have you never had problems dealing with stuff like this?"
The man sadly nodded.
"I did, long ago… Everyone does, and everyone must find their own way to make peace with it. I've found my answers… and I'll pray that you can find your own."
And then he was gone, leaving Garret alone with his letter. At least this time, when he picked up his pen, he found that words flowed more easily. In the morning, he'd give it to one of the harpies for a speedy delivery, and his duty would be done.
Day 58
Class went about as well as you'd expect, the next day. With an empty space in one of the rows reminding the older students of what'd happened, none were particularly focused on the lesson, and the downcast mood infected the rest of the student body. Deciding to call it here, Garret brought an end to their class and sent them out to do practical drills instead.
"I just want all of you to remember… This is why we fight. This is why we can't let any monsters live. It's us against them, to the last man standing."
After he dismissed them, Garret followed them to blow off some steam of his own. Something about destroying cobbled together, wooden targets was strangely therapeutic in its simplicity. Wooden targets didn't think. Wooden targets didn't beg for mercy.
… Wooden targets weren't people you used to know…
Garret dispelled the thought with a particularly powerful spell, watching silently as the debris rained down. This, and Rick's prayers helped, if only a little, but glancing down the line of students, he spotted a handful casting with bloodthirsty enthusiasm. He had hoped it would help them as well, but… maybe it was just stoking uncontrollable emotions.
Day 59
Garret couldn't sleep. That night (or was it technically morning now?), he tossed and turned, and no amount of exhaustion from spell casting seemed to help. Thoughts of the mission, the people he'd lost, and other unpleasant memories kept buzzing around his head. Eventually, he glanced out the window and spotted a harpy, illuminated by her signal lantern, descending towards the town. That might have been the one he sent out… he doubted he'd fall asleep any time soon, so he pulled himself out of bed and slowly began to dress. Maybe a walk would clear his mind, and he could get her delivery confirmation at the same time.
At night, Fort Estlev was quiet as a ghost town. Far from the border, with it's surroundings having been swept multiple times, there was little risk of monster attacks. The skeleton crew of guards were either stationed in the watch towers, looking outwards, or patrolling the main roads at lengthy intervals, but those occasional movements aside, it seemed everyone in the town was asleep. Well, everyone except a certain mage.
Slowly, Garret picked his way through the streets, wandering towards the walled ghetto that housed the harpies. When he was about half-way to his destination, he heard a sharp cry and, coming to a square where the buildings didn't block his view, he noted that harpy's lantern had mysteriously disappeared. That wasn't a good sign. Garret quickened his pace and headed towards the source of the sound.
A single noise could only do so much for location, but when Garret reached the place he thought he'd heard it from, the muffled sounds of a struggle guided him onwards. Torch in hand, and spell flickering in the other, he passed through two rows of empty workshops and into a back alley, where he saw the source of the commotion. Three of his students were savagely beating the harpy he'd seen, while the fourth made good use of her grappling training to pin the bird down and keep a gag held in her mouth. From the flickering of the light, Garret recognized two students in particular – they'd been friends with the woman they'd lost.
"What's going on, here?"
Stepping into view, Garret straightened himself and called out in a powerful voice. Hearing that, the youths released the bird and quickly stood at attention. Instead of trying to escape, though, the harpy just curled into a ball as best as she could. One of her wings was bent at an odd angle, and half of her flight-feathers had been broken.
"This harpy attacked us, sir! Just dove out of nowhere, trying to get the drop on us."
As the eldest replied, Garret glanced again at the bird.
"… Then why is she gagged?"
"We, uh… We wanted to teach her a lesson, Sir."
"I see…"
Garret stepped over to, and crouched next to, the wounded mamono. Lifting her shirt a bit, he spotted deep bruising along her ribs, where kicks had been delivered, indicating broken bones and internal bleeding. Likewise, fractures dotted the hollow bones of her wings and legs, combined with cuts, scrapes, and bruises. The poor girl had been beaten half to death, but while Garret found countless wounds, what he didn't find was any significant emission of demonic energy.
Passing his hand over her one last time, Garret glanced up at his students and spoke in a calm, but cold voice.
"If she'd gone crazy, I'd be feeling demon energy. There's almost nothing here."
"Well maybe she was just horny. You know how monsters are."
"I know that harpies only attack humans during breeding season. And that's two months away."
Garret drew himself up to his full height, crossed his arms behind his back, and glared at his pupils.
"Come to think of it, curfew was hours ago. You lot should be in bed… Why don't you tell me what really happened?"
Most of the group stared at the dirt, fidgeting nervously, but one particularly zealous student spoke up.
"Captain, why the fuck are these harpies even here? You said it yourself, it's us versus them! Why are we letting these bitches live in our town? How the hell are we supposed to stand them, after what happened to Farlan?"
"… You were the ones who attacked first, weren't you?"
"And so what? She's just a monster! We get attacked by them all the time, why can't we turn the tables for once? It's revenge! It serves them right!"
'Just a monster'… Revenge… Garret glanced down at the pitiable, crumpled heap that was the wounded harpy. He'd been preaching this to them every day. Monsters were inhuman abominations who needed to be killed. Monsters preyed on their friends, so they needed to fight for their comrades. Monsters were responsible for nearly all the evil in the world… Really, he should have expected someone might try to take their frustration out on a 'friendly' mamono.
And he was to blame for that.
Looking up again and staring the student dead in the eye, he continued his calm speech. He couldn't berate them for attacking a monster. Not with the reputation he'd built, or the values his school was founded on… but he didn't need to. There was another way he could get the point across.
"I see. But you know harpies are employed as messengers, yes? Surely you checked her bag to make sure she wasn't carrying important letters before you tried to kill her?"
Both of them glanced at the discarded, unopened mail bag she'd been carrying. Garret could have sworn he saw a student gulp visibly, and he finally raised his voice.
"Do you have any idea what you might have done?! She could have been carrying orders! Information! All manner of things necessary for The Order's operations! For the life of one bird, you might have endangered an entire mission! I could have the lot of you thrown in the stocks!"
One of the students opened his mouth to speak, but Garret cut him off.
"You don't have to like this, but you do have to play ball! For now, these monsters work for us, and I will not let you inflict wanton cruelty on them! You need to be professional. Letting rage blind you like this makes you worthless as a magician, and if I ever hear of a similar incident, there will be hell to pay. Understood?"
Seeing he was letting them off, at least temporarily, the students slowly nodded.
"Good. Now get the hell out of here and return to your dorms, you'll need your sleep for tomorrow. I'll…"
He nudged the harpy, quivering on the ground, with his boot.
"Take care of this."
Once his students had left and he'd waited a minute for them to get out of ear shot, Garret looked down at the whimpering and terrified monster. Pain was definitely a major reason for her fright, but upon closer inspection, Garret realized a secondary cause of her fear. This was the same bird he'd threatened to kill, all those days ago.
When he reached for her, the woman tried to crawl away. With only one wing, though she couldn't get far, and Garret quickly blocked her path. He grabbed her by her good wing, and looked into her trembling, terrified eyes. He could kill her. Put her out of her misery. Indeed, without treatment, she was practically guaranteed to die. The priests didn't heal monsters, even if they were employed by The Order, so it was probably the most merciful thing to do…
Visions of the dying Annika, the wounded monsters he'd finished off, and the student he'd mercy-killed flicked through his head. It was just like those other, horrible moments that haunted his dreams. If he killed her, he knew she'd join them too.
… Maybe he could make exception, just this once…
"Shh… I'm not going to hurt you, but we have to move. Bite down on this."
The harpy, still confused and frightened, hesitated, but eventually took the gag he handed into her mouth. Then she screamed in agony as Garret picked her up, and bit down, hard, trying to bear the pain. Her sharp cries continued as she was jostled by Garret's movements, but ignoring that, he set off, running as fast as he could with a girl in his arms. The sharp fragments of bones moving about were wounding her further, but she was going to die anyways, so Garret took the chance. He had to get her some help before daybreak, so he tried to ignore her pain. At least she was very light.
When Garret arrived at his room, he carefully set the woman down on his bed, then began to rummage through his trash. There… yes! There! A month ago, he'd been given orders by the high priest of their local church, to take part in a celebration. At its bottom, miraculously undamaged by the crumpling of the paper, was a gold, wax seal, marking the order as genuine. For something more important, like an intelligence report, there'd be magic involved to prove its authenticity, but for an order as simple as this, a seal would suffice!
Carefully slicing the wax off the page with a wire-thin blade of flame, Garret transferred it to the bottom of a fresh sheet, and then, mimicking the man's writing style as best he could, wrote a new order. In it, he commanded the acolytes who'd staff the temple at night to heal the harpy, as an exception to their usual rules. While he waited for the ink to dry, Garret laid a hand on the good wing of the trembling mamono.
"Just hold on… I'll get you through this yet."
Garret's entrance into the temple caused a commotion amongst the young acolytes and the junior priest who oversaw them. Doubly so, when he laid the monster he carried on one of the cots in their medical ward.
"Are you daft? We don't heal monsters here!"
No one quite knew what to make of the situation, except one young healer, who loudly objected. In response, Garret produced his forged order and thrust it into the acolyte's hand.
"You do now."
The healing process took almost until dawn. Doubly so, because Garret found himself having to repeatedly argue about the authenticity of the order. Thankfully, the acolytes were young and inexperienced, a result of the higher-ranking members not wanting to work at night. They didn't know enough to detect the fraud. Sure, they remarked how completely out of character this was, but Garret managed to keep hold of the situation, lying about critical messages, or threatening to wake the high priest for a supposedly second time, solely to assuage their doubts. Fortunately, none of them called his bluff.
As dawn began to break, the healers finally finished their work. Though he had to pull rank once, to get the harpy's flight-feathers healed in addition to her body, eventually, the work was grudgingly done.
"Good. Can you stand?"
No longer on death's door, the slightly traumatized bird nodded, and Garret pulled her to her feet. After glancing over her, to make sure nothing had been missed, Garret gave his thanks to the priests, who hurriedly shooed them out the door. They were so eager to get the monster out of their temple, they failed to notice Garret palming the forged order during his exit.
Now on the steps outside, Garret briskly walked them across the street and into a back alley, lest the waking townfolk spot them. When they found themselves somewhere out of sight from prying eyes, he dropped his stony expression and, fatigued from the sleepless night, leaned against the wall.
"… Are you alright."
"I… I-I think so."
Hearing the bird's affirmation, he sighed with relief, then tilted his head in the direction of the ghetto.
"Good... We'll need to get your bag and to get you back to your roost. Come with me, I'll walk you there."
The winged-woman gave a soft 'ok', but they didn't make it more than three steps before she stumbled, catching herself on Garret's arm.
"You sure you're alright?"
"Yes, I-I just tripped."
Despite saying that, though, she didn't let go. As they made their way through the back alleys, she wrapped her wings around his arm and clung to him for support. Though one could interpret that as her simply being unsteady and still recovering from her ordeal, a segment from a bestiary kept popping into Garret's mind.
Harpies tended to value freedom of movement highly, given their airborne abilities. To voluntarily restrict themselves from flying, usually implied a deeper significance… and the monster had her wings trapped under his arm. As they walked, Garret tried not to think about that… or about how nice she felt, holding onto him like this. He couldn't get attached, it would just make things harder for him.
When they reached the last row of houses before the haphazardly constructed walls to the ghetto began, Garret stopped in his tracks. He couldn't be seen with her, she'd need to go the rest of the way on her own. Before she left, though, he gave her a bit of advice.
"… My students just lost one of their friends. They're infuriated with monsters even more than usual right now, so you and the rest of your kind should probably avoid them. Look for the insignia on their robes. That'll tell you who might try to kill you again."
"Thank you, Captain."
The monster held onto him for a moment longer, then steadied herself and prepared to walk. There was one thing Garret had to ask before she left, though.
"What's your name?"
"Oh, it's… it's Loria."
"Good luck, Loria."
Then he sent her on her way, and she walked out from the alley and disappeared through the gate. Once she was gone, Garret turned and began to head towards his school. Halfway there, he realized, too late, that he'd never gotten the confirmation his letter had been delivered. One of the harpies would need to deliver it to him in person, on another day. Damn it.
Author's Notes: This chapter should be pretty self-explanatory for what I was trying to do. There's a bunch of other stuff going on here, but the main thing is that, for the longest time, Garret has been justifying his actions with an 'ends justify the means' approach. That worked pretty well during the initial crusade, but it's been ten years. I feel like the horrors of war would weigh on anyone, if they were subjected to them for that long, and dogma or philosophy would probably lose some of its weight after seeing or committing dozens of atrocities.
Now, you see Garret starting to crack and even empathize with the monsters a little, though he's still bound by what's expected of him. Even when he witnesses the horrible process of someone being unwillingly transformed, he starts to think, not about how the monsters should pay, but if there'd been another way. One where his student could have been a bit more at peace, instead of violently lashing out in terror.
I'll drop some minor spoilers here to save everyone some time. This shift to a dimmer view of Garret's previous ruthless, calculating logic is going to be present for much of the remaining story, and is a central part to the overarching message I'm trying to craft. If you're here for the 'Humanity, Fuck Yeah!' slaying of monsters, with enough war crimes to make a Nazi blush… well that's still going to be present, but you might want to consider chapter 25 as your 'getting off' point. You might not like where this is going to go.
That aside, for those of you still with me, thank you, again, for reading. The warm weather has finally arrived, and that means hiking season is upon us. I'll be spending a lot of time in the mountains, so who knows when my next update will be. … Then again, what else is new? This update schedule has been anything but reliable.
Alright, I've said my piece and…
Until next time, Sayonara!