We were spread much too thin to fight. That much was obvious. But I think the lying caused everything to collapse the way it did. You can't lead men if they don't know what they're doing.
-The interviewed wished to remain anonymous.
Fort Alnus
"Confound this damned cogigatio and everything to do with it!" Zorzal yelled and slammed his fist on the map dressed upon the large table. "Otherworld bastards are one thing, and now there's an entire army of cutthroating whoresons raiding the countryside?!"
"Towns, villages, cities..." Duran murmured and rubbed his beard.
"Quite the predicament we find ourselves in," Roland added as his spindly hands rested on the table. The rest of the leadership sat around, tired and burnt out at the dead hour.
The headquarters renovations had been finished, which was a commodity indeed as the outside was colder than a frost troll cavern. The structure was fully bricked and marbled, with a well-stocked wine cellar that saw plenty of use at times like these.
They'd stayed up deep into the night, accounting for any hole, chink, or weakness within their defensive plans. As Ligu let out a breath, they all leaned in and scanned the marks and small wooden figures placed strategically across the map like board game figures.
"My ogres are set with boulders by the GATE, the auxiliary and conscripts wield ranged weapons at all times, and long trenches have been dug to slow down these barbarian dragons," the Prince shook his head. "Yet I fear we haven't accounted for everything."
"Perhaps we could use the mages for something?" Ligu said as he rubbed his hair vigorously. Even in the cold, he was sweating. The beads slid down the bridge of his crooked nose, "Perhaps they may change the ground further? something to due with the dirt or grass, or...anything?"
"Suppose those thundersticks?" a nearby king asked. "Perhaps we might find a use for them?"
"We've only a few, and the ammunition was spent," Duran answered.
"Do we have the means to make more?"
"No."
"Blast the bloody firesticks, then. Is there anything more we can do with the orcs, your Highness?" Ligu looked at the Prince, who placed his large palm on the table, slid it over the map, and looked back at his temporary subordinate.
"Shocking...nothing beyond that," he tapped his finger against the parchment.
Ligu sat back, let out a long sigh, and rubbed his eyes, "gods, what time is it?" he said to a servant, making rounds and handing out wine and food.
"Midnight, your lordship," he answered quickly. His round face darkened away from the light.
A loud sigh came from the room as each man realized the late night. There had been many like this over the last few weeks, and there would've been many more had all of the men in the headquarters not been wiped from the world during the next day's battle.
"Brigands...brigands...and brigands," a count murmured.
"What of the assassinations?" a king in the far left of the room asked. "Three senators, all stabbed in one night by an unknown phantom." Some murmurs spouted from his comment.
"A cause for concern, though that doesn't relate to the task at hand," Rondel said as he rubbed his beard.
"But there was commonality within the slayings!" he said, "each was a vocal supporter of the Emperor."
"This is a Capital matter," Ligu said. "We need no more of this talk. There are issues in abundance here."
"Oh yes, desertion, casualties, an army of brigands, what fun." Zorzal's said
"This must be a punishment from the gods..." Duran murmured. Something sank into him as he sat back in his creaking chair. He rubbed his tired eyes and watched the likened faces of those kings, counts, and dukes. Perhaps he realized their fates at that moment, but he kept any thought of that to himself.
Zorzal spoke up, "Focus. We must find a way to stop these barbarians."
Ligu, whether due to his ninth glass of wine that night or exhaustion said, "Such fanciful words, your Highness. Perhaps you may use your oratory to convince a surrender out of them?"
Zorzal glanced at him. The Prince was sitting in a chair at the far end of the table while Ligu leaned forward in the middle with both hands pressed against its wood. The former asked, "Pardon me?"
"Or perhaps we shall send more of that...Rose order to fight? such great warriors the princess leads, I wonder if it would take her three minutes to be decimated instead of two like Sir Herm." Duran tried stopping him with a shush, but Ligu finished every word.
Roland's face narrowed in an odd way as he stared at the map and the men surrounding him. "Perhaps we might pick this up in the morning? I think the lack of sleep will only add to our irritability."
"Let the Count speak his mind if he so wishes," Zorzal said. He and Ligu stared at each other like daggers being thrown by each's imagination. Ligu said nothing.
He stood slowly, stepped out to the side of the table, and moved to the count. Each step stamped hard against the ground, and the jingle of his armor filled all corners of that headquarters.
Duran moved out of the way as the two met. Not face to face, the Duke stood almost a foot under the prince. But at the very least, he looked up at him. Leaning, Zorzal slouched mere inches from him. His face wasn't to be seen as it'd gone dark from his about-face at the candle.
"Pardon. Me?"
Ligu, at this point, had narrowed his shoulders back and still said nothing.
"Are you forgetting your place?"
No answer.
"Do you understand the distress of our situation?"
Not answer.
"Or are you focused on what little power you still own?"
Ligu belligerently mumbled something.
"What?"
"No...Your Highness." It was almost like a son being scolded by his Father, though Ligu was over twenty years the man's senior.
He lifted his hand, and Ligu flinched back as he prepared for a blow. None came. He glanced up; the Prince had raised a finger, and Ligu let out a small huff of relief. The hand was so large he couldn't see Roland or Duran looking away or the various interested faces of his colleagues.
"You are a general," Zorzal said, "and a count. You are a leader and strategist responsible for the lives of thousands. Act like it. I have tolerated your insults and slights for these three months, but no longer. If you take issue with my leadership, then we may step outside and settle this like men rather than using boyish insults upon one another. Otherwise, focus on the task at hand and help us save the land from annihilation."
"Please, Your Highness, isn't that enough?" Duran finally interrupted.
Zorzal turned away to see all of them watching the exchange. Duran glanced around, then at the kings and counts standing and sitting, then at Zorzal. The light of the candle gave his white beard a sheen as he spoke, "Shan't we go over the defenses once more?" His voice was shaking, but he said it all.
Zorzal smiled, "But of course."
They scoured the defenses once more and discussed the Brigand uprising and political turmoil. Eventually, an extreme solution was thought up. Coming from the mouth of an unknown king or perhaps count, he proposed, "What if...we were to place the weakest troops at the front of the line, such as the wall?"
"Weakest troops? such as the young or the underperforming?" Duran asked and searched for the origin of the voice.
"Yes, it will give time for our best to ready themselves if the ogres are to fail. And even if we lose those men, it wouldn't be as harsh of a blow."
An eerie tension rose. Some men nodded along, and some didn't look so sure. A vote was made, and all but two of them supported the costly idea. They adjourned the meeting in the twilight of the morning and Duran and Ligu exited the headquarters with heavy baggage under their old eyes.
"You were foolish to say those things to him," Duran said to Ligu as they walked together, "he could have crushed your skull."
"I know, damn it," Ligu said through gritted teeth. "Damn that bastard, damn his father."
"Keep your voice down...someone may hear you."
"I care not; the Emperor did this, and that is the truth. We would not be here if it were not for his orders, nor would thousands of good men be dead and dying in that cursed world and ours. Nor would we be throwing hundreds more towards the wolves."
Duran said nothing.
The stone path bustled with every manner of soldier, whore, and sutler. The cold morning made a misty fog creep over the nearby mountain edges. Man and demi-humans dressed in cotton coats and furs to warm themselves as they walked the streets of the renovated fort.
She walked with her right hand, squeezing her left wrist. As she passed the brick and concrete structures, strangers would stare, look away, or keep their eyes on her as she passed without a noise. Her black hair fell curled and shined even on that grey day, and her pale face was round with reddened cheeks. The dark dress, while stuffy, was welcome in the battle against the cold.
In her left hand, several coins were tightly fisted in a ball. She didn't want to interest anyone in what the money was a part of, nor speak if she didn't have to.
Flanking her was a tall man dressed in long and dirty cotton robes that picked up trail dust along its bottom, forming a stained hue of brown. He was bald, save a small white goatee, and many wrinkles had found themselves collected like the dust on his old face.
His stride was slow and steady with a certain discipline that took both experience and age to master. He was so tall that he practically shielded her from anyone standing on the right side of the street, something he did intentionally.
Walking side by side, the old man softly whispered, "Remember your task, Noriko."
She nodded.
"Do you understand?"
"Hai—" she shook her head. "Ita." Noriko put her free hand on her mouth and let a soft sigh escape. Her face flushed red.
"It is fine, child; be not flustered lest you repeat the same mistake. Focus, do not let the heathens and fools distract you from your task."
She nodded.
"Do you understand?"
"Ita."
"Very good."
As they moved, she watched the ground like she was searching for something. At quiet times such as these, pictures of home flashed like a projector into her head. Then, images of the thing that took her and the fires on the streets.
Then she'd remember the little one in her stomach, and the fear took her hostage then like nothing else. Not even when she'd been placed in a cell for what felt like days, nor when men came in and beat her until she bled.
When the old man came into her cell, she merely expected more of the same. But this didn't come to pass. He took her away from the prison and into a safe place, where she was offered food and water. The next day, he sat with her and began speaking in the language of his people, teaching and ingratiating her into the grammar.
Reaching the fort's center, rows of tables had been dressed in colorful tarps, with fabric covering any potential rain above them. Food, clothing, and wares were laid in large wooden boxes at the sides of them. She saw the merchants and sutlers grazing loudly for potential buyers or sellers, some more noticeable than others by their animal features. Especially when Noriko saw a humongous wolf-headed thing, causing her to shudder away.
Eventually, Zera guided her to a large wagon. Its contents had been moved out and spread under cloth and dry leaves. Various trinkets were displayed on them like a fine collection in some primeval museum.
A man with a large belly jutting out dangerously close to the edge of the table stood over the two of them. He had his hairy arms crossed and watched both as they approached. He gave them a warm smile, "Cold enough for you two?" his baritone voice was as hefty as himself.
"Quite," Vega nodded. He held his palms together, and Noriko watched as the two men talked. She followed some of it but couldn't make sense of some of what they spoke of—just some. But she thought she heard the huge man introduce himself as...Nasir? no, Amir.
The sutler slowly crossed an open hand through his stock, his long black beard flying in the cold wind. "I've a vast collection here, clergyman. Suppose you may want an extra coat for the battle against this freeze?"
"My armor is enough, but you are kind to offer. My...companion here," he glanced over to Noriko, "will be making the purchase on this day."
He turned his attention towards the girl and kept up his friendly smile. She stood a little away from him, and in the cold mist and early morning, it was hard to see her face beyond all the dress and the coat. "Come closer, come and..."
His swift change of face caused her to stop moving. For a moment, only the chatter of those around them could be heard. "Is something the matter?" Zega finally said.
The merchant watched his new customer. He shook his head, "Never mind it, my..." His eyes locked onto her face. "What happened to your eyes, woman?"
Noriko seized up.
Zega was quick to interject, "Pardon, but shall we take our business elsewhere?" His demeanor hadn't changed, but his voice had risen just ever so slightly.
Amir was even faster in his response: "Oh, I by no means meant insult it's...I may be able to pry her eyes open. How does that sound, girl?" he scratched his large beard and looked as if he were trying to answer something known only to him.
She nodded her head meekly and noticed they were drawing strange faces from a gang of legionnaires nearby. Not wasting any more time, she placed the coins on the table and touched a small bracelet coated in fake bronze. "This, please."
Counting each, the sutler took the coins, took out a small wooden box from under the table, and opened it. "It will do." Placing the currency inside, he watched Noriko take the fake jewelry, still studying her as she locked it around her wrist.
"Will that be all?" his smile returned, although it was more sheepish than friendly. Seeing her nod, he closed the box and placed it back under the table and watched as Noriko and Zega left without a goodbye.
The two were silent at first. The sounds of the people drowned out any ability to have a conversation without raising one's voice. Noriko made sure that her hood was as over her head as it could be without obscuring her vision completely.
As they exited the fort's square, the two made their way along the cobblestone. Small fires of burning rubbish revealed themselves in the distant outside, and the buildings grew smaller as they exited the walls into the outside vicus. Men with shovels and other such tools shoveled waste onto the pile, and men on horseback watched them. Noriko looked away as they passed, but Zega stared right at those on horseback until they'd gone completely over a hill.
"You hide yourself, child," Zega said. His hands had begun shaking, not so much a sign of anger as of arthritis. She didn't say anything; rather, she looked at him. His bald head was like an alabaster globe, with the tiniest white strands sticking out of his scalp like wheat in a field.
"There's no need for that, not now."
"They saw me..."
"Indeed."
She looked behind herself and saw nothing following them. Whenever she was allowed outside Noriko would always feel something creeping along her back until she turned.
"They know not to attack you."
She nodded.
"They shan't."
She nodded.
At about the edge of the premises, past the demi-human auxiliary barracks and the slave huts, their path turned into dirt, and their sandals kicked up grime as they took steps. In the distance was a small hut of brick and cobblestone with the ivory shapes of a massive tree sporting fruits of a strange and unknown quality to her.
He opened the great splintered wood door, and she walked in first. Several rows of pews on the sides of the church needed proper dusting, and a stone altar stood in the chapel's center at the end. Very few people would journey beside he and her. Some soldiers or merchants would come occasionally to worship, though they'd never stay for long. "They are mocked for their faith," Zega told her. "Verbally, and on occasion, violently."
"Take a seat," he said, closing the door and stepping inside. Noriko sat on the furthest pew and uncovered her hood. Long black hair danced down her back and the backrest.
She leaned forward momentarily, then backward, as she felt an invisible something wash over her—like a miasma of sense, neither painful nor pleasureful. She was here, in this place, another world beyond space and time.
The priest stepped over to his alter, and Noriko watched him. She placed a hand on her stomach, imagining, wondering, and worrying.
He would talk with her as her grasp of the language became sound. She found much of what he said bizarre but not unbelievable: how the world was nothing and then there was the first forest, the first god, Wareharun.
Then he told her of the situation she'd been wrung into, her chest sinking with each sentence, "The land you find yourself embedded in is adorned, "Falmart," those who stole you away are known as the "Saderan Empire," you're the only one of your kind they managed to take during their failed campaign on your world. It is my duty to teach you the language of my people until we may get proper information on your tribe, your land, and out of you."
She listened to all of this, her eyes not blinking. The leftover bruises and lacerations on her face throbbing, and the hot tears slid down her face. The priest was bandaging them as he talked, "Do you understand me, child?"
Noriko nodded but then asked something that made him nearly drop the bandage, "What will happen...after?" her voice was so small he had to ask her to repeat what she'd said.
As she repeated herself, just for a moment, she saw his face shift. But as quickly as it was there, he reverted back to his serious face. "Enslavement most certainly."
At least she was safe for now, yet even here, the thought of what would happen to her and the baby filled her veins like a venom. At night, she would see shadows dancing at the foot of her bed and hear the deranged words of those who'd taken her. When she closed her eyes, she saw the torn bodies and heard the explosions that'd nearly wrought her eardrums.
"Child?" Zega had been kneeling before the altar for a while before standing and turning to her. Noriko opened her eyes and saw him standing with his palms pressed together.
"Yes?"
He rubbed his head and thought for a moment, "Hmm, never mind." He walked to the pew, and she moved so that he could sit. As he did so, he put an arm on the backrest, and she saw it quiver. He let out a small huff as he finally settled.
"Are you-"
"Back," he clenched his teeth as he steadied himself.
"Oh."
He took a moment to settle, "Fantastic linguistic work today."
She nodded. He didn't say anything, and due to this, Noriko looked to her left at him. Zega was staring ahead at the clay floor as if he were trying to find something.
"Zega-Sama?"
He popped back into reality and glanced at her, "Oh, excuse me, my dear."
"Is there something on your mind?"
"Yes, many things, child. Many."
She thought about something, "Zega-Sama?"
He waited for her to speak.
"What do you mean when you call those other...people blasphemers?"
He raised his brow slightly surprised, " Their sort have been greatly deceived as to who they choose to worship. Two devilish beings known as Emroy and Hardy are creatures of great chaos and evil. And...do speak softly, the Imperials don't take kindly to this kind of talk."
"They're...gods?"
"No, they are false. There is but one true god—the living forest, the first forest, the first plane, the life-giver—Wareharun."
She looked from him and placed a hand on her face as he continued speaking.
"Is...something the matter?" he asked.
"No..." she wiped her hand, "it's just...this is still so overwhelming."
"I see, is it...your family again?"
"No, don't worry," she turned to him.
He was studying her strangely, his old face more wrinkled than usual, "I am always here if you are in need of a friend."
She nodded and smiled a little.
"Remember," he held a finger in the air.
"Do not wallow in despair," she finished.
"Correct. You've been a good student—not only a student but a good friend. It is graceful of you to show such kindness to an old man in a situation as horrid as yours. Even if it may perhaps be false. Hmph. No matter what happens in the coming days, I hope you remember our talks. Think about them, look deep inside yourself, and know that in the end, you must carry the fire in the darkest of times."
"T-Thank you..." she nodded slightly as he was done.
"There's something else I wish to speak of."
"What?"
"It occurs to me that I know the background of your land and your plane but not the orator behind those tales. Tell me of yourself this time."
A small throbbing weight settled itself on her shoulders as he spoke, gaining in size as he kept on talking. He'd known for the last month, but Noriko found her words very difficult at the moment. The child reminded her of home, of the man she loved, her parents, and those memories were harsh indeed.
She rubbed her arm and hesitated to answer, "There...there isn't much to tell, but..." she paused. He watched her. "I was fortunate enough to be born to a loving family. When I became older, I met a man while working and...that is how," she pointed to her stomach and blushed, "this occurred."
He nodded along with the story, and when she finished, he asked, "Your parents, what were they like?"
It took her even longer this time around to answer, but eventually, she said, "My mother was stern, but you could see she cared through the little things she'd do. My father is the opposite, always full of...of life." She smiled slightly as she reminisced about something, then stopped as reality came crashing into her.
"To give a child such a good life..."
"Hm?"
He seemed to be thinking longingly of something, and when she said that, he snapped back to attention, "Bother it, only an old man's ramblings."
"I thought I heard you speaking about a child?"
"Are you hungry?"
She stuttered for a moment at his suddenness, "Um...y-yes."
He sat up and looked at her, his wrists shaking a little, "Come."
"Do you need my help?" Noriko asked as she joined him.
He gave her a side-eye, "You offer that every day. Is it that I am so old I cannot even make a good enough breakfast?"
"Yes."
"The lip on you," he shook his head.
As they ate together, Noriko found herself eating more and more, something that'd become common these past few months. Luckily, Zega had always been willing to share with her. Although he'd be rather fond of making the occasional slight.
"Eating for a horse, I see."
Noriko didn't answer, giving him a small smile before biting into her bread, "I am eating for two if you would remember."
"You will eat me out of clergy at this..." he continued, but she didn't hear the rest. He glanced back up, saw her, and stopped, his hands mid-ripping a burnt piece of bacon off.
Her face had gone completely white like a sheet, and sweat profusely began streaming down her face. Feeling her face, warmth radiated off like a hot pan.
"What in the-" was all she heard from the priest before passing out.
ALNUS COUNTRYSIDE
The cool grass touched his knee as a small wind blew the little bits of red hair under his helmet around. A small lake sat resting in front of the shore he'd kneeled on. The clouds from an early morning shower were slowly starting to break, and there was a slight smell of mint as he sat back and removed his galea and put it next to himself.
The small chirps of birds flying south came overhead, and he thought he had even seen a hog sticking its head up from a small hole in the ground. He listened to and watched them in the purest form of peace and tranquility. It was a good break from all the stress of his life, even if just for a brief moment.
He thought of home as he lay in the grass, and a great feeling of sickness came over him. Then he thought of the GATE and did not want to be alone anymore.
"Having fun, Red?"
He turned over and saw Markus come out of the treeline. His large beard jumped as he got down next to him.
"It's too damned cold for your shit," Hector stood with his help and saw Markus giving him a strange face, "something the matter?"
Markus shook his head. "Nothing, come on," he said lightly, smacking Hector in the back of his head.
"Why?"
"Deca says we're moving back to main."
"We are?"
"No, we've been personally invited to the capital for dinner with the Emperor," he said as Hector picked up the helmet and placed it back on.
Hector elbowed him, "Shut up. Aren't we supposed to be looking for raiders?"
"Ask our glorious leader, brother," Markus said. "We're needed, or...he'd explain it better."
As they approached the treeline, Hector turned back for a moment, studying the nature he'd come to appreciate in the last few weeks. He stood there, strangely watching the lake and the sky.
"Are you right?" the older brother said as they traveled to the camp through the little dirt path. A cold breeze kept their cloaks closely knit around them.
"Right?"
"Yes."
"You mean in the head?"
"Where else?"
Hector waved an annoyed hand, "Why wouldn't I be?"
He stopped smiling, thought for a few seconds, then spoke, "You know exactly what I mean. Hells, I thought you, of all people, would be complaining like a bugger about all this."
"Piss off."
Markus rubbed his beard. "Bandits and barbarians," he stopped and kept his hand still. "Shouldn't we be in the new world by now?"
"Yeah," was all Hector said.
Markus looked at him, "But you know why we're not?"
"Of course I do."
He frowned and watched his little brother. Staring as Hector walked ahead with a quickness to his step. Markus moved and caught up at his side. "Slow down. We don't need to be this fast."
They walked further and said nothing. The trees were dead, and brown leaves cracked and crinkled under their boots. Before they came to their destination, Markus said, "Hector?"
"What?"
"You know I love you, right?"
Hector was silent. The wind howled around them, and it smelled faintly of pine sap. Finally, he replied, "I know."
"Alright."
"I love you too, brother."
Markus smiled, "I know."
They came back to a dead meadow overlooking the main road. Multiple tents were perched about the area, and a dead firepit sat at the center, its coals producing a small smoke in the air. The men were packing their horses with their personal effects and supplies. The brothers silently and quickly joined them like pack rats.
Kurmann sat mounted on his horse at the exit of the place, hounding all of them, "Faster! faster, you damned cocksuckers. We need to be out of here as soon as possible!"
"Maybe if you would stop fucking yelling like a madman, we could get done quicker..." Rickett said softly. He was turned and a couple dozen yards away.
"Who said that? who the fuck said that?!" Krumann yelled as he stormed around. Rickett packed his things in pure silence after that.
When they finally rode out under the parting clouds, the sunlight stuck through the forest trees in small golden bits. There were some grumblings and whispered complaints at having left in such a hurry. Edmund, in particular, asked, "Sir?"
"What?" Kurmann grunted.
"What's going on?"
"With what?"
"With main. I thought we were supposed to be backing the foothills in case the brigands get brave," he scratched his arm and waited for an answer. "What did that messenger from earlier this morning say?"
Saying nothing for a moment, he finally answered, "All I know is that they need more men at main. They're sending a Centuria in our stead."
"A Centuria?" Markus scrunched his face and looked around for anyone else as confused as him. "For a few raiders?"
"Listen, I want to get out of here before however many of them descend upon us. From what I can guess, there's more than the lords and kings thought there'd be."
"How many of these bandits are there..." Rickett pondered.
"Enough to warrant a hundred men," Edmund stated.
"Wow! what an amazing observation, sir weasel," Hector called from the back.
"I told you to stop calling me that, you little bastard!" Edmund barked at him.
Kurmann waved his hand back at his men, "Settle down, you idiots."
"At least we'll be sleeping under a roof again. I swear, I woke up with dew on myself every day. There weren't even any holes in my tent. How in the world is that even possible?" Hector said as he reached for his waterskin and drank from it.
"It comes up from the ground, smart one," Edmund said.
"How about I come up there and smack you?"
"Enough of that," Markus said. Hector stopped.
The mountains above them told of an oncoming storm to add to that morning's shower. An evil bunch of purplish and black clouds that would certainly wash away the land. There was silence about, no animals, no birds, just the occasional sound of wind and the brief chatter from the men looking to fill the void of nothingness.
They watched for movement in the tall grass, their dread not ceasing for the hours spent riding back to Alnus, only growing tauter like a knot being looped around them. They moved like migrants under drifting clouds, and their track across the land reflected in its ancient architecture the movements of the past itself.
When they arrived at the stables on the outskirts of the walls, they handed them over to the slaves, took their belongings, and headed inside. Kurmann took to the front and turned and said, "Come, we're to join the other units for new orders."
The noise of personage filled the streets with all manner of gossip and conversation. There was a ripe smell of something foul, and they walked brusquely along the cobblestone path, their sandals smacking it and making an odd sound.
Reaching and leaving their tools and effects in the barracks, the men then hurried back to the north.
The forehall was a giant, long structure made of concrete and stone. It was connected to the praetorium at its southern part by two large doors guarded by two pairs of men in plate armor. The hall itself was built with stone and brick and laid with clay on the floor. Flags of the empire and its vassals dressed the walls like murals. Tables in several rows housed Centurias and several centurions, where the units stood awaiting what was to come next.
Hector stood with his face flushed in the middle of his unit, surrounded on all sides by taller bodies. He had to rely on Markus to walk in front of him for directions. He tried to say something but was drowned out by the noise of the crowd. The heat was unbearable.
"Hey!" Hector tugged on his brother's arm.
"Huh?" Markus glanced back and then forward.
"Any ideas?"
"Not really!"
"It'd better not be latrine duty!"
"I don't know. Let's talk after I can hardly hear myself here!"
It took a hot and grueling while before they all managed to reach the table of a spindly Centuria who was glossing through multiple papers. Kurmann stood at the front and listened as the man said, "Unit, Centurion, and number."
"Contubernium, Vulpes, and seven, sir," Kurmann's face was flushed from the heat of the inside. His and his men's faces had little beads of sweat running down them, and they were desperate for the cold outside.
He nodded and studied his notes as they waited with bated breath, "Guarding the east and north, hm. At least you'll have a nice view of the GATE." He handed the orders to Kurmann, who took and studied them. He and his men saluted and fast-walked to exit the place with haste.
"We'll be rotating shifts at the walls in an hour," Kurmann said as they returned to the busy streets.
"From one thing to another," Rickett said, sitting atop a stone block containing remnants of a building that was currently being repurposed.
"That's life, my friend," Markus replied and looked at his Decanus, "Who're we with?"
Kurmann was already putting the orders away, "The ninth and a duo of magical specialists under the names of..." he raised an eyebrow, "our friends from Coda."
"Them? Oh no," Hector shook his head. "Why did it have to be them?
"Shut up," Kurmann said.
"But, sir, they're strange and creepy."
"You'd be a great judge on that," Markus smiled as the men readied themselves.
"Fuck you-"
"Enough. Get moving before I make you two spar until you're both dead," Kurmann ordered. They moved on.
The brick and stone walls were high in the air, allowing easy sight of the ogres with their boulders standing by the GATE and the slaves churning up dirt with shovels to form trenches. The men stood north and east on the wall, watching the scenery below or gambling money on an empty mead barrel they'd collected.
A small group of them gathered around the barrel to watch the result in a high-stakes dice game between Rickett and another guy from the ninth. Rolling, "Snake eyes, I win!"
"To hell with that, you cheating bastard!" his opponent said. They argued until Kurmann came from his round on the eastern wall and let out a yell so loud it pierced the ears of each of them into their original station.
Lelei sat perched atop the wall with her spell book in hand as they did. Cato stood smoking on a pipe a few paces in front of her and watched the GATE solemnly with a strange look in his eye. Markus stood idly with his spear some paces from them, surveying the trenches and the ogres.
"A sight to see, isn't it?" Cato said as he leaned with both arms on the wall out at the GATE. "Quite the change from our medicinal undertaking."
"Certainly, although I'd see that damned thing closed."
He glanced over his shoulder and looked back at him. Getting off the wall, Cato grabbed his walking stick or staff and waddled next to the man. "I cannot say I disagree with you on that front, legionary, but a man should never deny the chance to learn a new school of magic and lore."
Markus glanced at him, "Education isn't suited to me, but which school would that be?"
Cato thought for a moment as he brushed some grime off his staff, "Well if I had to guess, conjuration by its sudden appearance and history."
"You keep saying history."
"Indeed."
"Has it been here for a while?"
"Five months, I believe, shouldn't you know that?" Cato gave him a smile.
Markus shook his head, "Very funny."
He began to laugh and held up a finger. "Oh, come now. It was a simple gag," he cleared his throat.
Markus ran a finger along the shaft of his spear as he gave a reply, "Don't tell me this has happened before."
"Then I shall not say a thing, dear boy."
Lifting himself, he gave a strange face to the old man, "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Ah yes, the phenomenon occurs once every few hundred years. All races ventured through them before they closed. Elves, orcs, and even humans. Fascinating, isn't it? of course, this is all but a theory for the origins of the races but a plausible one at that."
Kurmann shook his head and turned to the structure, studying it, "I wouldn't say fascinating. I'm more worried about whoever might come through this one," he thumbed the GATE.
Cato nodded somberly, "Well, yes. My apologies."
"None needed," he thought for a second. "You sure know a lot about this thing. "
Waving around his staff, the wizard smiled and said, "I pride myself on the lore of many magical occurrences, modern and historical. It strengthens the wizard's understanding of magic, correct Lelei?"
The girl fumbled with her book for a second as she realized her name had been called and shot up her head, "Um...yes?"
Cato laughed. They remained up there for the next few hours watching the GATE, awaiting an unknown enemy from an unknown land like ducks sitting in the grass.
Fort Alnus Hospice: One Hour Before The United States and Japanese Landing Through The GATE
In the dream she had, she saw herself locked in chains as she was taken further into the continent, her child stripped away. Both of them made to live like cattle in pens.
There was then a rock in her hand, a sharp rock that she had found on her fourth day before coming to the church. She lay bare in that dirty and cold cell with the object in hand and stared at it like a messiah, asking herself, "Can you really do it? take a life that's not even started?" she held it inches from her wrist and after much deliberation, Noriko said, "No."
Then she saw him. He was teaching her the piano, standing behind her as she laughed at something he said. The smell of a candle burning seemed so real; by god, did she wish it was real.
She woke in the darkness, her vision blurred, and her body felt like a sack of trash. The cot she lay in warmed her further than she already was, and Noriko moved to sit up and gain some coolness before seeing the figure looming over her.
"Kei?..."
"Huh? oh, you're awake," the figure said. Noriko saw the emerald feathers, and her heart sank into a trench. A siren, that's what the thing was. She had seen some of them on her walks with Zega.
Looking about, Noriko saw that she was on the floor, surrounded by the sick, dying, and dead, under a massive black tarp that led out from a large bricked building with several caduceus decorating its front. It was night, and the torches illuminating the place were the only things allowing her sight.
The siren kneeled down, bringing her attention back. Then, she felt a heat in her chest and neck as the thing spoke, "Can you see? Can you hear?" it said with a clear and pronounced tone.
"Y-Yes," her voice was hoarse and filled with phlegm like a blocked-up pipe. The Siren frowned. It raised a hand, and instinctively, Noriko flinched. The siren raised its brow and stopped as she did. Looking away, then back to her, it put its hand down, "Your forehead, little one."
Noriko stopped. She leaned forward and allowed the thing to do so. Her hand was cold, and Noriko curled her toes as the Siren's black eyes stared into hers. "Burning up. Open your mouth and say ah."
"Ah." It narrowed its brow as it peered down, then stood and wiped its hand with a handkerchief, Noriko watching.
"What's...wrong?"
It stopped and looked strangely at her. "Huh?" Noriko asked again, "I can't understand. Why are you talking like that?" Again, she asked, "Oh, you've got an odd... never mind. You're sick."
"I knew that," Noriko whispered as she clutched her aching chest.
"You've gotten the plague."
"W-What?" it was like a strike to her face. Noriko felt a coldness rise up into her neck as the creature explained her illness as a disease that was both progressive and deadly.
"But it is survivable-"
"What about..." she hesitated, "I haven't been around anybody besides one man," she stopped. No, this isn't a doctor. What are you thinking?
"Drink this," it handed her a brown bowl filled with a strange green liquid and a flower bulb that Noriko could not identify. "It'll dull the symptoms for a small while, and before you ask, your spawn won't be affected."
Noriko almost dropped the item, "Y-You..." She looked around the area and did not see anyone other than her fellow patients within earshot.
"Now, don't start with me. Powerful people want you to live, girl. You're lucky I don't go telling all these men what you actually are. I'm sure they have a few favors they'd like to give back to your people, and that'd start with you."
"P-Please-"
It gave her a disgusted face, "For god's sake, what?"
"Where's Zega?"
"That Wareharun fool? he told me he had to write a few letters before your carcass was hauled here. Seemed in a hurry."
"T-"
"No, drink or don't drink, I don't care. You've wasted my time as is," and she'd walked off before Noriko could say anything else.
Noriko sat there, staring ahead at the bodies and sick around her. So devoid of any hope, if she died right there, she would have welcomed it.
After a few minutes of doing nothing, she looked at the bowl and studied its contents. Magic was real in this place. That was a sure thing that Noriko sometimes had to remind herself.
"What else do you have to lose?" she whispered. She knew what she was to them—a thing that only had value from its ability to give information, a tool to be disposed of once she outlived her usefulness. The priest had shown sympathy and even promised to do his best to help her have an easy position in the confines of slavery. He couldn't stop it; Noriko knew that much. What she did know was that she would not see her child if she were to even live through its delivery.
She looked at the bowl again. Bringing it to her lips, she found the taste to be akin to water but with something grainy in it. Nevertheless, she downed it all and, when done, wiped her mouth and placed the bowl to her side. Then she sat there, nothing but an overwhelming quiet welcoming her. Her hands soon began to cease twitching, and the horrid aching, while not gone, started to dull.
At least something was going right in her life. Noriko laid back, pondering what would happen. Maybe they have magic that could stop it? she thought.
It was wishful thinking, but a wish was about all she had left right now. As she curled herself up in the cot, Noriko escaped from her cold reality back into the world of dreams.
Fort Alnus North Gate
Hector stretched his arm over his head and yawned, watching the torches snap around in the wind like candles.
By this point, the legionaries had positioned themselves like posts in between a couple of foot-long gaps in the wall. He put a hand on the gap and glanced over, seeing the orc and ogre camps below. He then just realized how high he was and stepped back.
He looked towards the torchlight a few feet from him. Deep into that bright abyss, he peered, wondering, doubting, and fearing. Something rose in his throat whenever he saw the GATE, although the boy would never admit it.
Pa taught him how to throw a rock with a sling in his youth. Hector thought back to the many springs spent protecting the sheep as they grazed in the meadow below the hill he watched them from. Markus had taken up wood-crafting and stuck with it until their conscription. He'd always make something special for Ma on occasion. Small statues of animals were her favorites.
Reaching under his galea, he scratched his head thoughtfully.
"You're terrified, aren't you?" he whispered.
"Did you say something?" she asked, causing Hector to jump a little. He saw Lelei sitting on that same box a few feet away, glancing up from that book of hers. He had honestly forgotten that she was still sitting there.
"Uh...no. Where's your old man at?" he said looking about the place.
"He is not my father. He left me to help on the eastern wing."
"Don't magic folk stick together?"
"No."
Hector nodded funnily, then looked left and right, "Shouldn't you be watching the GATE?"
"I am."
"How?"
She sat up a bit, "Magic."
He frowned, "Haha, so funny."
With a blank face, she answered, "I thought it was."
He walked over and pulled up a box next to her and sat down. Clutching his spear in both arms, he tilted forward with it and looked at her, "Boring as hells, isn't it?"
Lelei thought for a second before answering, "Would a hell not be rather treacherous?" She stared at him with bright, curious eyes, and he looked at her funny.
"Huh?"
"Being in a hell would be rather entertaining, however dangerous it is."
Raising his eyes, Hector said, "You're not very sharp, huh?"
"What?"
He stifled a laugh, "Nothing, that was, uh...a saying."
Lelei nodded and looked back at her book.
"You like magic?" Hector asked.
"Somewhat," she looked from him and at her notes.
His eyebrows raised as he looked over her shoulder, "Getting smart with me? what are you reading?"
"Spells."
"About what?"
"Magic."
"What kind?"
"Evocation."
"Evmocation?"
"I am trying to read."
"And I'm bothering you, Laylay?"
"Lelei."
"Huh?"
"You are saying it wrong; it is not pronounced "laylay," she mimicked his accent, and he gave her a resentful face. "It's Lelei."
He shrugged his shoulders, "That's what I said, Laylay."
She stared at him blankly, then looked back to her book using the torchlight to see the words. Hector narrowed his eyes as he saw them. She turned the page and he began drumming his fingers as he glanced up towards the GATE.
"Shouldn't you be watching the GATE?" she said.
He looked at her and waved his hand, "Pfft, nothing ever happens. What're you looking at there?"
"Can you not see it?"
"I can't read."
"Oh."
"But you can?"
"Yes."
Hector thought for a moment. He then reached into a leather pouch hanging on his belt and took out several lead stones. She watched him curiously as he did. "I got..." he whispered, "an idea."
"What?"
"Can you write?"
She looked from side to side before answering, "Yes?"
"Alright, alright. Look here. Do you think you could write something about these?" he held up the stones at her like a presentation.
"Write...?"
"Yeah, something such as..."suck it" or "good evening," he began to laugh as he thought up more of them. But before he added to the requests Lelei simply gave him a look and shook her head.
"Why not?"
"It is childish of you to wonder why."
"A lot of guys do it."
"No means-" she looked confused for a moment. "Did you hear that?" she asked, and glanced before them.
He was about to ask what she meant, but then he heard it, too: shouting, screaming, and finally, a sharp crack of wind. The very ground under them beginning to shake. The two jumped from their seats and ran to the wall, and what they saw next sent horror radiating through their spines.
A squad of terror had rolled out of the GATE like chariots or wagons, but also not. Belching fire like a homogenous and Chobham-scaled beast that was so foreign to any concept of cryptid, those men on the hill and fort could only assign names distinguished titles such as a metal elephant. Their roars were like demons and fiends, and the fire from a long tubed trunk shattered several ogre's armor into pieces of silvery plate and viscus glue. The parts crashed into a line of orcs stumbling to get ready for the battle before their limbs were broken and their guts decorated the ground like an art piece.
Notes: Welp, this took me a long ass time to write. Between exams and general life changes, that is. But now I'm back to posting monthly, so don't worry about it anymore for those who actually find my slop enjoyable. Also, for those wondering, you're going to see a lot of characters with changes to them like what I've done so far. And by that, I mean the important ones (sorry to that one Sherry enjoyers she sucks and is not in this)
Anyway, enough yapping from me. If y'all have any suggestions or critiques that aren't "You suck," leave them, and I'll take them into consideration.
Translations: Praetorium=Generally a headquarters for a Roman governor but its changed its usage this time around.
cogigato=Plan or thinking, this one was actually really hard to pin down.
Ita=Easy one, means yes but also not really since there's technically not a word for yes in latin.
Hospice=Another easy one, it means hospital.