Branko had a hard time believing that such an operation went smoothly. This whole war, Babel and their affiliates have been on the backfoot and losing, even getting some doctor dragged into being the main strategist of King Theresa's Loyalists. Hell, the landship itself had been assaulted by a company of enemies, so any successful offense by Babel was bound to be some sort of trap!
Of course, Branko was not there when the last incident happened. He, like most other Sarkaz mercenaries, was under command to siege a Kazdel fortress, but that goal was abandoned when the news of the assault came back. It was the greatest shame the loyalists could have faced, being away while King Theresa was in immediate danger. It was only thanks to them that the assault became the Regentists' doom.
The Ghost of Babel, a short and unassuming man with a soft voice and a slim build. Why, it was not surprising that the man was a professional doctor, though being the lead researcher of Oripathy was not expected. No, it was impossible to predict that such a man could be the greatest strategist in the Kazdel Civil War, if not all of Terra. Not to mention his cold detachment to the lives of men, as though all are machines to be used and disposed for his foals. Branko did not like him. The man was a silent siren of death, promising destruction wherever he took command. The defense against the assault would be the first time he commanded, and the only evidence of the assaulters having been there was the breach and their bodies. No Loyalists died that day.
Then, there was the Conscript. He was a giant of a man, dwarfing even Branko's 190cm, and had the broadness and musculature that was signature to Wendigos. Branko was not sure what to think of the man, other than that he must be respected. The Wendigo was mostly unknown and rarely spoke to the other mercenaries, but rumors circulated about his origins. Some say that he was an Ursian war criminal that escaped to Babel, others say he was an Old Vanguard of the Empire of Gaul. Some kreten even say he was a drummer during Columbia's War for Independence.
In any case, what was undeniable was that he was strong. During the assault, it was reported that a sizable fraction of the assaulting force went to the clinic, their reason unknown. The clinic held only wounded or infected men, women, and children, along with the medical staff that tended to them. There was only one uninjured combatant, Conscript, posted there as the obligatory token clinic guard. The medical staff said that the Wendigo held out against the entire warband alone, not a single man making it past his defense. The warband was crushed, only forty-two weapons were found whole among the gore splayed all over the hallway. The man himself only suffered a dagger to the armpit, a bolt to the face, and a bruised rib.
That made the–
"Branko, what're you thinking about now?"
The question came from a black-horned Sarkaz, another vanguard under command of Branko.
A third voice, in a growly Kazimierzian accent, cuts in. "Lay off him, Dejan. He's probably thinking about that Columbian deer again."
Dejan lets out a confused noise. "You're talking about Conscript, right? Why would he think of him again?"
The Kuranta let out a frustrated sigh. "Are you dull, Dejan? Branko here is a fan of Conscript, of course. Never lets the man out of his mind." He turned to their squad lead, a sneer on his face. "Why do you even favor the man so much? He's just some old brute in armor swinging a poleaxe with no skill. Like some cheap Yan knockoff of The Patriot, a character in a shitty Lungmen film."
Branko turned to the horseman. "It wouldn't be fair to compare the two. Patriot is a full-blooded Wendigo, but Conscript is a half-blood. That's ignoring the difference in their characters." He glares at the Kuranta, arms crossed. "And no, I'm not a fan, nor was I thinking of him. Just… thinking about our recent op, that's it."
Dejan turns to the squad lead, eyebrow raised. "Sorry, Branko, but Grezg-... Grshzeg-... Greg here has a point about the big guy taking up your mind a lot." The brown-haired horse glared at the Sarkaz for a brief moment, then turned to look back at the squad lead.
Branko just 'tsk'ed. "Well, what do you two think on how the war is going? You think we still got a chance?"
Dejan looked around for a bit, but Greg didn't give a damn. "This war is a damn circus, and we're just a bunch of clowns. But hey, the pay is highest here, not to mention we're fighting directly for royalty, an idealistic monarch. Only an imbecile would ignore the fat purse of a 'Kind King'." The last words were said with a sneer.
The black-horned Sarkaz glanced at Greg, then replied to the squad lead. "I honestly have no idea how anything is going right now. I mean, I remember that we're constantly in skirmishes and that we attempted a siege somewhere, but I don't even remember if that was last month or last week. Hell, do we even have territory?" Dejan looks down at the floor, an aura of gloom hanging over his head.
Branko could do nothing but let out an aggrieved sigh. "Either of you two hungry? Might as well get our fill before the next operation."
Dejan agreed immediately. Greg did not. "Only if you concede that you idolize the half-blood." The horse gained a smirk. "Or are you infatuated with him? Eh, Scars?"
"Oh you little shi–"
…..
Eleanor sat in the clinic once again, alabaster walls once again providing a cold and unnatural feeling. The sharp smell of disinfectant sent pain through her nose at the slightest inhale, and the occasional moan and groan of the patients permeated through the air, only muffled by the constant clatter of footsteps moving, heartbeat monitors beeping, medical staff speaking, and pencils writing on clipboards. It was a location she had always hated, one she had to visit often.
Of course, she may have detested the place, but her loathing for it was not enough for her to abandon her friend. Karl was in a most wretched state after the operation, his left arm severed at the elbow. The Caprinae's form lay painfully dormant, the nub that once held his left arm wrapped in bandages, and each breath caused his body to shake like a leaf in the wind. The blood loss from the severed arm caused the violent shakes, and the medics said that if he came any later he would've died from his wounds. Eleanor was already a noticeably pale woman, but those words caused her face to become an even lighter shade of white. She wouldn't, couldn't, leave her friend after such news.
Karl's hand twitched. Eleanor took hold of the bed's rails, hands threatening to strain the metal frame. The goatman's eyes fluttered open, a pair of coffee brown, similar to his hair. His eyes drowsily darted around, a sense of confusion visible in them, until his eyes landed on the Vampire. He smiled, an expression so warm, one that warmed her as though she stood next to a flame alight, and his hand reached out for her. She took it without question, smooth and slender hands wrapping around the large and rough hands of the Caprinae. Her heart cheered in celebration.
Karl survived.
"To whom do I owe this welcome surprise, Lady Eleanor?" The Leithanien spoke, his speech filled with cheeky mirth.
"Oh Karl…" Eleanor could hardly speak, her head silencing all thoughts with three words: Karl is safe. She just sat there, smiling at Karl, even when she heard the sounds of footsteps echo behind her.
There must've been some commotion, for she heard some whispers and mutters behind her, as though something of note came. Eleanor cared not.
Karl will stay.
The clanking of plate armor and footsteps could be heard behind her, and Karl turned to look there. His warmth diminished, and instead of glee there was a look of disconcert. She finally turned, perplexed at Karl's shift. She frowned.
He is here.
The beast was not fully armored and had no cloak, though he still wore the plates on his arms, shins, thighs, and chest. His helmet was there, masking any and all of his facial expressions. Only the occasional glint of green could be seen through the slits of the visor, but even those would be hidden with the slightest shift of his head. He was without his usual weapon, though he still wore a dagger on his hip.
He stared at the two of us, then nodded. What are we, toy soldiers to be inspected? He spoke to Karl, his voice a deep pitch between bass and baritone. "I am glad that you survived. I…" He stopped. Karl was silent.
The beast clenched his fist, moved forward, and knelt at the bed's side. "I wanted to apologize. I am not the most suited to command, never was, but my failure cost you an arm. It nearly cost you your life." He stared below, to the cold and hard ground, a fitting mirror. Karl himself kept silent and looked at him, lips pursed in a thin line. Eleanor did not believe him. That whole senseless assault and butchery, and he wants to apologize. Just. Apologize.
The filth spoke again, lifting his head. "I didn't come to just apologize, but to make this right. Tell me something, anything, that you wish for. I'll try my damned best to get it for you."
Karl stammered for a reply. "U-uhm…" He turned to her. She shook her head. Don't do it. Don't make a deal with this devil. Karl looked at the demon and smiled, a steadfast look to him as he gripped her hand. "Would you be able to replace my left arm? I've heard that there are new arm prosthetics that work greatly, but I doubt that I'd have the budget to afford one."
The demon knelt there for a moment, as though he didn't hear the Caprinae. Finally, he tilted his head. "That is all? You do not wish for monetary compensation, or a mansion to retire to?" Wait, a mansion… Then, he can le–?
Karl just chuckled, shaking his head. "Those things would not mean much…" His eyes had a burgeoning flame in them. "Besides, Queen Theresa still has not taken her rightful place at Kazdel's throne, and even now she is beset by enemies on all sides. How could I abandon her now?"
The barbarian knelt silently, his helmet facing the chest of Karl. "Your name… Karl Witter?" Karl blinked in surprise, but nodded afterwards. The brute spoke again. "I will remember it. Few have such loyalty. With people like you at her side, the King of Kazdel has little to worry about." He stood, his tall frame looming over Karl like an apparition of death. "Karl Witter, I will see to it that you receive a free arm to replace your lost one. You have my word."
His head turned to her, and her eyes froze to chips of bloody ice. The helmeted head swiveled between Karl and Eleanor, and finally readied itself to leave. "I apologize for having interrupted. I've completed my task, so I'll leave you both alone now. Good day."
Eleanor stares at him as the brute walks away, hostile gaze melting into unease. Once he was gone, she turned to Karl. "... You should've taken his other offer."
The goat turned to her, a befuddled expression on his face. "What? The money that will be useless after the prosthetic arm? You know more than anyone else that money in Kazdel is virtually suicide, what with the war making rich men high-value targets."
She shook her head, crimson eyes boring into milk chocolate brown. "The offer for the house. Even if you couldn't maintain it, a mansion would be valuable enough to sell and live comfortably for the rest of your life. You could've left, could've lived life to the fullest. That was foolish…"
Brown eyebrows furrowed. "And what, leave you and the Queen behind? No, I can't do that. Can't and won't. Not when this war is still ongoing." He looked to his left, lifting what remains of his arm. "At the very least, with a prosthetic I could still be useful. I might even be able to work a normal job after this."
Her eyes turn downcast, pointed ears lowering a notch. "The way this war is going, you'll lose more than just an arm. Besides, I would've followed you home. Sarkaz I may be, my family is more important to me." She turned to him with a smile. "Even if that family has a head harder than his horns."
Karl smiled, a light flush spread across his face. The redness slowly left as he spoke. "Even so, I can't leave without winning this war. Kazdel was always seen as a boogeyman among the world, and the only reason Terra unified was in order to stop Kazdel's unification. But now? We have a Sarkaz that wants peace. A Sarkaz Monarch." His eyes turned to her, a hint of desperation behind them. "Terra is plagued by hate, and the Sarkaz and the Infected are at the forefront of that. But we have a chance here, a chance to start the end of it." He squeezed her hand, warming it. "We have a chance to finally make Caelum on Terra. Why wouldn't I want to fight the good fight?"
Eleanor sighed. This fool always has his head in the clouds, especially if his ideals were involved. Even so, she had a small smile, and crossed her arms. "In that case, you'll need someone to help you survive. Luckily for you, a Vampire just so happens to be willing to do so." She held her hand out, her smile turning into a grin. "So, what do you say, partner?"
Karl took her hand, the dog tags on his chest shifting with the movement. "Seem's I'll be sticking with you from now on, partner."
…..
"Doctor, are you certain that we should have him take command positions?"
His shoulders slouched. It was Kal'tsit again, the Lynx whose dictionary often lacked the word succinct. "Dr. Kal'tsit, you already know my reasons. That should be enough."
A hum sounded out behind him, and he could hear the fabric shifting as her arms were crossed. "And conveniently ignore the issues that come from such an option? Conscript is more of a combatant than a commander, and his latest operation shows that. He focused more on the confrontation, and his operational maneuvers were more reactions than planned movements. Not to mention the uncertainty on his loyalties, nor the mixed reception he has among the other mercenaries. This war is at a critical point, letting mediocre leaders take the helm may just cause Babel to collapse from the inside out."
The Doctor sighed, his thermos still having a small amount of boiling water in it. The ramen packet was thankfully disposed of earlier, such a mess would be another source of criticism by the old well. "And it is because the war is at a critical point that we cannot afford to be picky with our leadership. The previous military leaders are either dead, crippled, or captured by the Regentists, and most other candidates either buckle, flee, or die at the slightest ounce of pressure sent their way. After all…" He turned to stare right into her eyes, intensity only barely leaking from behind his mask, "Isn't that why I, a doctor, was dragged into this position?"
The Lynx flinched as if struck, her eyes shifting away from him and her hands balled into fists. Her mouth was grit. "... We both know you were ready for it. Besides, we had little choice, and all other options were certain to fail."
He nodded. "Yes, and I trust your judgment. I only ask that you return the favor and trust mine."
Another voice cut in, melodic and soothing to the ear. "My, my, what is going on here? Has there been some conflict, doctors? Don't be afraid to ask for my assistance, I'd love to finally be of aid to you."
Theresa was there, leaning through the doorway with a smile on her face and hope naked in her eyes. Both doctors turned to each other and, as though they came to an agreement, nodded to each other.
Kal'tsit shifted her stance. "King Theresa, what do you think of placing Conscript under commission?"
Theresa raised an eyebrow, hands clasped behind her back. "Kal'tsit, I thought we already spoke about formalities? As for Sir Abukcheech, I doubt he would disappoint should he take command."
Kal'tsit turned her gaze, unwilling to speak. The Doctor clasped his hands together. "Could you explain why you think so?"
Theresa turned, blinked at his mask, and had a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oho, have I finally outwitted the Ghost of Babel?" He sighed, she giggled. "I can't really give many examples or reasons. You remember what he did when Rhodes Island was assaulted. Abukcheech holds himself as a man with greater experience in war than most, even for those among my court and command. And, most importantly…" Her smile grew, and a warmth spread through the room. "He cares about Amiya. Do you really think that our resident knight, who so happens to care for our cute Cautus like a niece, would be willing to hand her to the malicious hands of Theresis' supporters?"
He nodded, letting his arms rest on his chair. Kal'tsit turned sharply, ears pressed against her head. "He what."
Theresa nodded. "Have you not seen him while he guards her? I swear, I'd think he was all but ready to a- Oh, hang on." A beep rang out, and she pulled out her phone, looking at the caller ID. She gasped. "Hello? Are you starting soon? Great, just wait a bit, I'll be there as soon as I can!" The phone turned off, and it was gone again in her dress. An excited gleam shone in her eyes. "Sorry, you two, but I have an appointment to attend. Buck is telling his story!"
She rushed off, waving her hand at the two frozen doctors. Eventually, Doctor turned to Kal'tsit. She was a statue, her ears pressed against her head and her eyes two incredulous pinpricks. He turned to his own phone, looking at the time. He sighed.
She turned just as he placed his head against the desk, arms wrapped over his head. He let out a groan. "Ughhh, I wanna go too. Meetings are boooring."
She ignored his whining, walking up to him and poking his head. "Hey, you do have cameras installed in his room, correct?"
He stopped his whining, turning his head to look at her. "Think so. Why?"
Her gaze was sharp. She poked him harder. "Turn them on. With audio."
He stopped his stalling. There were only a few times that Kal'tsit got aggressive, and every single time it was better to just placate her as opposed to confront her in such a state. The last man that did so still hasn't been found.
"Is there a reason we're stalking Conscript?" He said, all while turning a monitor to link up to the live camera feed in the merc's room.
She stared at the monitor. "We lack any knowledge about his career, history, or personal details. Anything we gather through this would be invaluable to fleshing out his file. Besides," her eyes narrowed. "It'd be best to know what he's telling Amiya, or what he's doing with the King there."
He paused at those words. He turned to her, nodded, and turned to stare at the live recording as well. "You have my full and unadulterated support."
