Chapter 29: Liquid Courage

Maps were scattered across the ground. Falco drew lines as he tallied up the time and distance, muttering numbers under his breath as he quietly calculated how much ground they could cover. Barabbas sat, cross-legged, next to his direct subordinate, arms folded as the guest stared him down. Silverhair tapped her finger against her cheek as she waited for the Great Golden Cow to speak. The journey east had been fairly uneventful, provided one disregarded the fact that she had been riding a dog for the last few hours. That was rare.

"…So, woman," Barabbas finally spoke. "You wish to lend out your services as a guide?"

"You guys can travel quick, and I'm a bit farther out than I was prepared to be," Silverhair stated. "Besides, you Legion folk don't have too many friends out here on the frontier."

"Friends or not, it remains our territory," Barabbas countered.

"If you must insist," Silverhair scoffed. "Can't say you've exactly been sending your best and brightest out here. Last bit of Legion turf I hit was a copper mine, and I'd be damned if it wasn't the sorriest shit-show I'd ever seen."

"…Of course," Barabbas nodded. "Falco, could I borrow a moment of your time. Excuse us, we need to have a private conference." Both turned their backs to the drifter, lowering their voices to whispers. "…We have a copper mine out here?" Barabbas asked, confused. Falco looked at a map of the local area, shrugging as he vocalized his similar status. "We've a number of enterprises along the frontier but expecting accurate information on each is like expecting regular quotas out here," the senior centurion confessed.

Both men turned back around, their previous demeanors having returned. "The issue shall be sorted out in due time. Until then, we've other concerns."

"Missing person. Kid," Silverhair remembered. "I can't say I like her odds."

"All the more reason to find her sooner than later," Barabbas growled.

"Well, good luck combing the Unclaimed Wastes with eight riders and their servant," Silverhair exclaimed as she took a sip from her whiskey. "If you ask me the best thing you all can do is head to the Res by the Res."

"That town of degenerates?" Falco scoffed. "Should we debase ourselves in its presence."

"Little kiddlin all lost and alone? Looking for food and shelter? She'll find no better place this far out in the Unclaimed Wastes. If not, well, there's always Mexico or the Rockies," Silverhair muttered as she took a deep drink.

Barabbas and Falco glanced at one another. Scouring the Unclaimed Wastes was very much trying to find a salt grain in the desert, being far too vast a parameter to oversee in the time they had been allotted. If Pariah had gone north or south, then she'd be as good as gone.

"Sooner or later, everyone in the Unclaimed Wastes winds up at the Res by the Res," Silverhair stated as she knocked back the last of her whiskey. "Me needing to get there is just a happy coincidence on my part."

"Indeed," Barabbas rumbled. "I suppose, in addition to your payment for protecting our camp, this will be enough for your services?"

"If the kid ain't there, I guaren-damn-tee someone there will know something. You seem the persuasive sort," Silverhair almost giggled into her bottle.

The Res by the Res laid just outside even the furthest-most borders of Legion territory. Getting there wouldn't take too long for the dogs, two or three days of hard riding at most, but without any guarantee of safe passage or hospitality, the notion of getting information out of the town was fraught with its own risks.

"I will confer with my men about the situation," Barabbas finally said.

"Great. Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to find a drinking buddy," Silverhair said as she pulled out yet another whiskey.

"Ma'am, the men are forbidden from imbibing alcohol whilst on duty," Falco hastily tried to interject.

"Good to know," Silverhair called over her shoulder as she strolled to the campfire.

Drago, Sulla, and Uriah were hogging the dice. Hypatia was looking after the dogs, ensuring that they were fed and watered. That left Quintas and Damocles looking for their own entertainment. Currently, their entertainment was tending the campfire, cooking some meat as they tried fruitlessly to get her attention.

"Oy, woman!" Quintas called out. "You're working too hard. Why not come here and take a break?" he said as he motioned to his lap.

"She pretends not to hear us, so she does not speak," Damocles chuckled. "She thinks we hate it."

Kyra just stared into the fire, wondering how long she could go if she picked up a chunk of kindling and struck at the two gawkers before she was finally stopped and punished. Probably not long, she was never much of a fighter. Truth was she had been growing used to such treatment long before Scorpio sold her to Barabbas.

"You," a female voice called out. "Drinking buddy," she continued as she grabbed Kyra's arm and pulled her away from the fire.

"Hey!" Damocles growled as he stood up, moving to block Silverhair. "What are you doing?!"

"Your boss won't let me drink with the troops, so that leaves me with one of the two chicks," Silverhair explained.

"She isn't yours," Damocles hissed as he reached for his machete.

Silverhair eyed him, bemused. "You're willing to fight me over this? The woman who saved all your shit from getting stolen? I thought even you Legion folk were above this?"

"Put the slave down," Quintas growled as he joined his compatriot.

Silverhair said nothing, reaching behind her as she pulled out her .45. Immediately, all activity in the camp stopped, with all eyes directed towards the confrontation. Quintas lost his nerve and started backing down. Damocles held firm; his eyes locked with Silverhair.

"…Well, since the two of us aren't backing down," Silverhair said, "let's say we do this honorable-like? This," she motioned to her weapon, "is going to help keep this fair."

Damocles took his hand off his machete and instead went for his revolver, standard issue for all such members of the Legion's cavalry. As barbaric as a shoot-out sounded, it at least promised to be more entertaining than verbally berating the Legate's personal slave.

"CATCH!" Silverhair announced as she tossed the gun directly at Damocles, who involuntarily reached out to do so. By the time Damocles realized what had happened, the fist had already connected to his jaw, sending him to the ground as Silverhair stood over him. "Looks like a girl knocked you out. That's embarrassing," she replied off-handedly as she picked her gun from the ground, returning to Kyra to drag her away, Hypatia laughing in the background.

Barabbas and Falco sat quietly as they witnessed what had just transpired. "…I'll take care of it," Barabbas finally spoke as he rose from the ground.

"Sir, as the senior officer, it is best that I…" Falco tried to interrupt.

"I insist," Barabbas stated as he approached the downed man by the campfire. Damocles was shifting his jaw as he tried to pick himself from the ground, the shame overwhelming the immediate pain he felt. When the Legate stood over him, he froze, trying to find the words to explain his predicament to his situation. He relaxed when the Legate held out his hand, an offer that Damocles was more than happy to take. And regret when Barabbas only stood him up as to slam his helm against Damocles' own, dropping him back to the ground.

"Shameful," Barabbas hissed as he turned to Quintas. He followed up by punching the other rider in the stomach so hard that his feet left the ground, Quintas collapsing on the dirt as he clutched his gut, doubled over. "And weak!" Barabbas snarled as he looked over both his underperforming riders. "Half rations and permanent sentry duty until further notice," Barabbas finally ordered as he returned to Falco to continue his planning.

"What about the women?" Falco asked as Barabbas returned.

"What about them?" Barabbas growled as he took a map back up.

As soon as they were a good distance away from the camp, Silverhair sat by her bedroll as she reached into her bag. "Got a preferred poison?" she asked.

Kyra looked to her. "…Help me."

Silverhair looked back to the camp. Had it only been two, she would have taken Kyra by now, an act of a Good Samaritan without having to worry about reprisal or consequence. Freeing the girl now, however, was too much trouble. Far too much then she was willing or able to endure alone.

"…How much they paid for you?" Silverhair offered, willing to at least try.

"…I was a gift," Kyra spat. "I don't know my price."

"…I think I overheard some of those guys talking about some kind of deal?" Silverhair offered.

"I was told that if we find the brat, I get to go free," Kyra relented as she pulled her knees up to her chin.

"Really? That's… pretty generous, considering," Silverhair admitted.

"Completely. All I have to do is ride on a dog for weeks and cook for them and listen to them talk about my body and hope that somehow we'll find this little brat because if we don't…" Kyra clamped her mouth shut.

"…You want to get something off your chest, now's the time," Silverhair offered.

"What good will that do?" Kyra asked.

"Maybe nothing, but sometimes you just have to," Silverhair suggested. "If the alternative is just self-destruction…" she paused as she gazed at her bottle. "Well, options are options."

"…You've been traveling alone for a while, haven't you?" Kyra asked the other woman.

"…Yep," Silverhair admitted.

"…By choice?" Kyra asked.

"…Yep," Silverhair admitted, taking a swig.

"What happened?" Kyra asked.

"Nothing that concerns you," Silverhair muttered. "And I'm not drunk enough to open up," she continued as she passed a bottle to Kyra.

Kyra sloshed around its contents, cracked open the top as she sniffed it, and took a ginger sip from the nozzle. It burned her tongue immediately, causing her to wince as Silverhair gulped down her own bottle. "…First time?" Silverhair grinned as Kyra looked to her. Compared to the bitter draught she'd been drinking ever since she left Fort Wrath, whiskey at this point tasted like the honey water she had drunk as a child with her grandparents. Kyra braced herself as she took another swig, the burning going down her throat as she steadily grew more and more confident.

Hypatia watched the two as they began to commiserate. Brushing out the coat of Aithon, her mount, she took a swig of bitter draught as Falco approached her. Hiding her smile, she pretended to ignore him as he took a moment to clear his throat. "Sir?" she said as she turned around.

"Subordination is the last thing I expect from you, Amazon," Falco immediately stated. "You answer directly to Caesar and the Oracle, and thus far the Legate. What is your angle?"

"I don't understand?" Hypatia tilted her head.

"The Legate wants Pariah found. The Oracle does not. What are your loyalties?" Falco stated, bluntly.

"Barabbas is here, the Oracle is not," Hypatia answered.

"What are your loyalties?" Falco stated, impatience becoming evident.

"…Anyone besides your nephew," Hypatia admitted, caustically.

Falco's eyes began to narrow. Ever the charmer, Scorpio had been busy damaging his reputation ever since the boy had come of age. Falco's service had been one of nobility and subordination. Scorpio was more focused on ambition and notoriety, his cruel and bloody campaigns in the north making him few friends outside of the Senate, who in turn were too focused on their new territories to properly rein in their favorite rising star. That being said, more than a few senatorial tribunes, along with the Oracle's Legios Amazonia, were willing to keep the man in check.

"…I brought you along because your knowledge of the frontier dwarfed our own," Falco explained. "Not to mention that with the Legios Amazonia being so secretive, the only way to glean any information they'd gathered is with one of their own amongst our teams. I take it you have sisters at this "Res by the Res?" he enunciated, the title feeling odd on his tongue.

"…I believe that I would be the best amongst us to send into the city proper. After all, everyone knows the Legion doesn't hire women," Hypatia smiled.

"Right," Falco nodded, unsure. "Well, if you are so well informed, what can you tell me about our guest?"

Hypatia looked to the woman as she toasted Barabbas' pet. She had suspicions, what with all the rumors of a notable caravaneer having vanished over some ten years ago. Those same rumors also put her in the company of a particularly notorious individual for the Legion itself, though how to divulge this information was something she was unsure of. And, as much fun as she would have sharing her suspicions, at this point they were still beholden to honor their deal with the old bitch.

"…Nothing I can guarantee," Hypatia confessed. "I have an idea, but you'd ask me for proof. I'm not sure I can offer that."

"Right," Falco nodded, disappointed but satisfied. "As you were."

"Of course," Hypatia saluted as the centurion returned to the Legate. Looking back, she returned her gaze to the two as they squawked whatever the dissolute and slaves squawked about. If her suspicions were right about who this old bitch was, and she could confer with her sisters that the Legion still had an outstanding bounty on its enemies within or around its borders, then her time at Res by the Res promised to be, at the very least, lucrative…

"…Third time I's got be *hic* trothed," Kyra slurred as she tossed her bottle away. "Hardly knew the guy but my old fam-ly dint want me no more *hic* sos that's why I was there," she continued as she lamented the last time she passed for a free woman.

"Three marriages. Ssssssshit, now wonder you say yous cursed," Silverhair droned on. "You ain't even look twenty."

"Betrothals, you old dumb bitch," Kyra shot back. "Husbands wanted to see what they was getting into. Does she look purty, does she know bout being useful, is she fun in the sack, and I's always passed wit flyin *hic* colors," Kyra almost cheered.

"I am not dumb," Silverhair glowered at Kyra before forgetting the insult immediately. "So why ain't no one wife you up?"

Kyra started giggling in hysterics. "Cursed. Bad Blood."

"That ain't make no sense," Silverhair muttered, smiling.

"Bout twenty or so years ago, my mom's tribe gots raided by their enemies. Mom tried running with the rest of the women and childrens, but she didn't get too far," Kyra explained.

Silverhair's smile began to fade as the realization dawned on her.

"Nine months later she gets an eternal reminder of the worst day of her life," Kyra continued as tears streaked down her smiling face. "Always made sure I didn't forget that!" she said as she rose her glass.

"…That's horrible," Silverhair whispered.

"So I's get dumped off to my grandparents, they tried to raise me *hic* til they couldn't no more and I get sent off to another tribe after another tribe. Didn't bother me none, I could hear the whispering. Good things don't happen to me, that's just *hic* how it is," she explained as she took another sip.

"That's bullshit!" Silverhair smashed her bottle against the ground. "My old crew wouldn't give you shit for something that stupid!"

"And where is your crew now?" Kyra slurred as she hazily gazed upon the woman.

"…They're all fuckin' dead," Silverhair admitted. "Should've seen it coming, those fuckers tried to buy us out. I knew how this worked! I've seen it happen before! I thought we was ready for em!" Silverhair confessed. "Now… Raul's gone… Joshua's gone… can't end this peacefully this time, ain't nothing Cali or… he can do," Silverhair muttered as she took another long sip from another whiskey. "Always hated that fucking city so fierce I can't believe I miss it… know what I mean?" she held out her bottle for a toast that didn't come.

"Ky?" Silverhair slurred as she noticed Kyra had stood up and began stumbling towards the camp, bottle in hand. "Oh," Silverhair mumbled as she fell on her face. "That don't look good."

Barabbas was unable to fight off the urge to finally lay down and get some much-needed sleep. Tossing out his bedroll, he began to unlatch pieces of his armor to try and get a bit more comfortable, mostly his breastplate and greaves. As he was about to remove his helmet, the sounds of unsteady feet approaching him captured his attention. Turning, he saw his slave stumbling towards him, trying desperately to keep upright. The sight was so pathetic he almost felt sorry for her.

"…Am I to assume you have come for a, what was that phrase, "booty call?" Barabbas almost laughed. "I figured the notion would be so repulsive to you, but had I known how desperate you needed to be accommodated for it, I wo-"the words stopped as glass shattered against his helmet.

"F-fucking useless!" Kyra slurred as she finally stumbled.

Barabbas stood and said nothing, mostly out of shock over what had just happened. Falco's eyes widened in horror, and the men began screaming in outrage over what had happened. Hypatia covered her mouth, lest her laughter overtake her. Silverhair had already passed out.

"Y-you're fuckin useless, you know," Kyra slurred as she got back to her feet. "How many bitches you g-g-got waiting fer you back at your place an you can't get a one knocked up?"

Kyra then fell flat on her face, sticking her rear in the air as she pantomimed what she had witnessed so often in the Legate's chambers. She verbalized as well, letting out screams and audacious moans as she mimicked nearly every aspect of the Legate's performances. Under his helmet, Barabbas felt himself began to heat up.

"Can't knock up Misty, can't knock up Estelle, can't even knock up Cheslie and she'll open her legs for anyone. I think I can get that little tramp pregnant before you. Or do yous need some help finding the right *hic* hole," Kyra giggled as she looked up at her master.

Sulla pulled out his knife and approached her, only to be blocked by Falco, who shook his head and waited for Barabbas to decide.

"You don't know how to hump, you don't know how to run your fuggin country, and the only assholes who think you are worth following are the puppy patrol!" Kyra gesticulated behind her. "All the power in the *hic* world and here you are with Scorpio Senior Citizen, the least fuckable bitch in the camp, and the rest of these fuggin degenerates, who prob'ly want to mount each other as much as they say they wanna with me!" Kyra taunted as she rolled on her back, beckoning anyone to approach her. "C'mon, you think you guys'll be the first? I'm used *hic* goods! Did Scorpio tell you that, B?" she said as she turned back to look at Barabbas, his shoulders heaving in anger as his fingers began cutting into his palms. "A little more thorough in his inspect'n, and I'd probably have never made all yours wonderful acquaint'n," she laughed, hysterically, as she mocked her captors and her own fate in kind.

"I hope we all become food for vultures, out here," she finally said as her laughter began to peter out. "I hope we never find this little brat and I still never have to see that awful arena ever again. I hope I'm pissing you guys off. I hope I never wake up from this. And I hope Barabbas's children are born with flippers, which seems pretty likely considering how badly he wants to find his little si-"

A strong arm wrapped around her neck as she felt the darkness envelop her entire world.

Beams of light scorched through the air as the metal bird circled overhead. It had been a town, a dead town for centuries until it found a new purpose. Its defenders rallied, firing back as the invaders synchronized their attack, moving with machine precision. Their leader, a man with a scar over his eye, rallied the invaders as they continued their attack to breach the great house on the horizon. One of the invaders took a bullet and plummeted from the rooftops. The man with the scar swore but continued his mission.

Shortly afterward, one of the guards approached the fallen invader, noting his peculiar form of dress and weaponry. As he was about to call in the location of the fallen, a knife was jammed into his neck. As the dying guard was dropped, the intruder took a good long look at the fallen invader. If he didn't know any better, he could swear he would be able to pass for…

The side of the casino erupted, and the invaders had located their prize. The intruder smiled as he wondered who would take it worse; the defenders for losing her or the attackers for gaining what they assumed would be a reliable asset. At the very least, the Fox thought as he dragged away his new curiosity, he of all people would come out ahead today of all days.

Kyra felt her consciousness groggily return as she coughed up the dirt that wound up in her mouth. As she gradually came to, she could make out voices in the distance, as if they were behind a wall.

"…let it just be a mistake…"

"…can't tolerate behavior like that from…"

"…take responsibility, leave her out…"

"…property, you are hired…"

A strong hand grabbed her arm, jolting her completely awake. Barabbas looked down at her, face completely unreadable behind his helm. As Kyra's memory began to return, she looked down and saw a leather strap clutched in Barabbas' other fist.

"…No…" Kyra began to speak. "No, no, please!" she cried as Barabbas dragged her away. Silverhair moved to protest, but she was blocked by Uriah and Sulla. Falco crossed in front of her, his eyes hardened. "Just as well you witness the result of your actions," he replied.

Kyra was taken to a boulder. Barabbas shoved her against it and began to snap the leather, testing it. She winced with every snap and felt her fear and panic grow as she began to remember, hazy as it was, what she had said and done last night.

"…I'm sorry," Kyra clutched her eyes tight, tears escaping as she awaited her punishment. "I didn't mean any of it, I swe-"

"SHUT UP!" Barabbas roared, the echo seeming to carry for miles.

Kyra shuddered and she braced herself. Barabbas grabbed her by the shoulder, pushing her against the rock as he reeled his fist back. Discipline was his burden as commander, as Quintas and Damocles could attest. For such matters, insolence could not be tolerated. It was a lesson that was instilled in him long ago by his father, as best demonstrated by how he handled insubordination after Caesar's death. Beaten, broken, and eye gouged out for good measure, that was how his father would handle such matters. That's what he did to his mother. That's how he was conceived.

The strap came down. Kyra winced as she heard the crack, bracing herself for the impact that would never come. Above her head, the strap snapped against the rock, as it did with every subsequent blow. Eventually, when Barabbas felt satisfied, he pulled Kyra from the rock and held her, face to face.

"From this point forward, you are forbidden to leave my sight, you are forbidden to take anything from an outsider without my knowledge, you are forbidden to speak without my permission! If you fail, I will not extend such mercies again! Do you understand?" Barabbas snarled.

Kyra, eyes widened, breathed heavily as her panic began to fade. She woke up afraid she would be scarred or crippled or defiled, but this level of restraint was something she never expected. It was then that she realized something; Barabbas didn't want to hurt her. Even at his angriest, even when she fished for a reaction, he never moved to strike her. Once she had realized this, she began to feel angry.

"…coward," Kyra growled.

"WHAT?!" Barabbas snapped.

"COWARD! I curse you! I curse your entire ancestral line, Barabbas!" Kyra snarled angrily.

"Why, you…!" Barabbas screamed as he drew back the strap. Kyra stood and waited for it. She watched him hesitate, and it just fueled her anger even more. "…Pathetic," Kyra muttered. "Give me that thing!" she snapped as she took the strap from his hands.

"What are you…" Barabbas got out as she moved to return to the camp. Before returning, she spun around and looked at Barabbas. "You want to be a slave master, you don't get to pick and choose your duties," Kyra hissed before returning to the camp. She held up the strap above her. "I DESERVE TO BE PUNISHED!" Kyra screamed. "AND MY MASTER DOESN'T HAVE THE BALLS TO DO IT! SO, WHO AMONG YOU WILL DEFEND HIS HONOR AND DO HIS DUTY?!"

Falco strode forward but was beaten to the punch when someone else immediately pushed past him. Kyra looked the other woman up and down. "…I'm not even surprised," she admitted as Hypatia gleefully kicked behind her knees, forcing her to kneel. The rider then proceeded to tear Kyra's slave smock, exposing her back as she ripped off the top. Hypatia took a moment to admire the relative flawlessness of her victim before reeling back a blow.

"STOP!" Barabbas commanded.

Hypatia froze as the Legate stormed forward. "No one is to touch her without my permission!" Barabbas snarled.

Falco looked to the sorry sight before him, then looked to the distressed Silverhair, and then to the Legate himself. He bowed his head, exhaled, and marched up to his comrade. "I'm sorry, Barabbas, but Kyra is right."

"I am the commander, and what I say is law!" Barabbas snarled at his friend.

"If a leader tolerates disrespect amongst those who serve him, he no longer becomes a leader worth respecting!" Falco snapped back. "It makes no sense to punish Damocles and Quintas for their failings while tolerating that of your own servant!"

"You can't do this!" Barabbas pleaded.

"Either the rules apply to everyone, or they apply to no one," Falco stressed. "If you forgive her actions, you'll have to forgive ours when we leave you and return home. That's the precedent you are setting by allowing her to disrespect you. She's your slave, Barabbas. It's time you both are reminded of it."

Barabbas stood by and watched as Hypatia initiated the punishment. Ten lashes were standard for a disobedient slave. Kyra took thirteen, her eyes never leaving that of Barabbas even as she felt her skin tear and her blood seep. Silverhair's eyes, on the other hand, never left Hypatia. The other men, in a rare showing of respect or sympathy, averted their eyes from the sight before them. For as much as they joked about seeing Kyra naked, this was not how they wanted to envision her.

When Hypatia was done, she strolled over to one of the sacks containing their foodstuffs. Reaching in, she grabbed a fistful of salt. As Kyra began to pick herself from the ground, Hypatia cast the powder against her back as Kyra cried out and collapsed on her hands and knees.

"…Enough standing around!" Falco finally ordered. "Load up and move out! Woman, you're riding with Quintas!" he motioned to Silverhair, who didn't seem to acknowledge him as she kept her eyes trained on Hypatia.

Barabbas kept staring at Kyra as she got back on her feet, eyes welling up with tears as she found her footing. She locked eyes with Barabbas. Slowly, her quivering lips began to mouth something. Barabbas immediately turned, not acknowledging what he read.

Silverhair slowly approached Kyra. "…This is my fault, isn't it?" she whispered as Kyra turned to look at her. "…That hurt," Kyra whispered.

"…Well, whatever point you tried to prove, I think you did," Silverhair said as she grabbed a bag behind her. She reached in and pulled out a sheepskin jacket, figuring Kyra could use something gentle when her wounds were dressed.

"I'll need his permission," Kyra muttered, eyes downcast.

"Granted," Barabbas said, causing both women to jump. Barabbas looked at the bag Silverhair was carrying, a heavy-duty thing with the words "RMX" blockily stenciled on its side. "…Come now, Kyra, let's get those wounds dressed. I'll not have my… servant prone to infection."

"Yes, my master," Kyra recited.

Barabbas turned to look at Silverhair. "…My servant thanks you for your gift," he nodded as he escorted Kyra away.

"Guess you aren't quite like your father as I was led to expect," Silverhair stated.

"You speak as if you've met him," Barabbas stated.

"I have," Silverhair acknowledged. "You aren't like him, and you don't have to be. Just figured someone should tell you."

Barabbas quietly acknowledged this with a nod of his head. Silverhair turned to look at Kyra, and the faintest smile was on her lips. Silverhair was torn between hoping for the best and leveling the Great Golden Cow with a slug to the face, consequences be damned. But she had another enemy to worry about. On the off-chance she somehow survived, and this Legate wasn't on the Legion's versions of the up-and-up, it could give her something else to work on. Alas, the desert air was hot and steep, and she still had miles to go before she could sleep.