by Matt Wilk
“Ha! This is exactly how I left Ulfbar.”
“Shut up.”
“Yea, shut it up.”
The bald trio was arguing amongst themselves as they walked past. Their leader did not even realize he was mocking Major Swiftblade until they were right beside Eso. The horned mega steed was so loyal that he turned and blew his nose right into them.
“What are you doing here? This road is closed to all but convoys and escorts.”
“Hush Matthius. Shale, get your men in position at once. The ambassador has finally passed out from his meal and I will not wait around for another speech.”
“Right boys. Double check the straps and wheels. First driver take post. Sir, an aside?”
“Speak plainly, pay the boy no mind.”
The mercenary leader, Shale, was leading our convoy. Between our two low-walled, arrow proofed carts was our prize. A fully boxed wagon, complete with draped windows, a driver, and an unknown man with enough coin to buy us all outright. I was slack-jawed, looking from the wagon to Shale and back. My confusion eased his mood. Though Senjay had only just cracked his mind into sleep, when he spoke, he showed no blood in his mouth at all. The silver swirls were much more powerful than I had understood, and Shale proved just that.
“You’s got provisions back there? We weren’t issued a water jug or nothin’.”
“You were hired on for a month long journey, and you did not prepare? You spent your retainers on harlots and wine?”
“Well, yea. We got us a couple of horns, and a couple of whores. Don’t act like you’ve got nothing to share.”
“I have provisions, and the boy knows how to fish with his face.”
Shale was turning angry but looking down in acknowledgement of his own fault. As much as I was willing to admit my lack of leadership skills, there were always ten men like Shale stomping their feet and demanding ultimate power. Luckily, Major Swiftblade still had the second water jug in his cart, from which only I drank.
“No more delays. Matthius, give him a water jug. You will have to share with the Ambassador. Unless, you would rather share with the Swillian.”
“We don’t even need their help sir. Why waste your fresh water on them?”
“That’s where you gone all wrong boy. Out past the wall, you need all the help you can get. That’s why you should’ve let us bring along those flint stones and rabbit snares.”
“And, it will be two weeks to Hi-yadora if we wait any longer.”
“What? No way! We’re going to the Crohn Nation?”
I jumped up and slid the extra water jug out, careful not to tear the woven reed cover. My feet could not help but dance any more than my mouth could keep from humming. Both Major Swiftblade and the mercenary Shale looked at me with disdain and confusion.
“The sun. We’ll be at such an elevation the sun is twice as strong. The trees grow so tall and the eagle is wider than I am tall.”
“Wait, I got it. The half-a-cadet thinks he’s gonna grow. Aha!”
Their laughter told me exactly how foolish I looked, but I refused to show disappointment.
“Officers, I swear it. They get younger every year.”
“Ready the Ambassador's driver. We move on your mark.”
With a jug of fresh water in his arms, Shale had to laugh by bobbing his shoulders. His mates, however, had no such restriction. Their deep cackles rang throughout the walled up road, loud enough to wake the Ambassador’s driver. The poor man stood up in fear and nearly ran off his master’s wagon. Once all was settled, the convoy was inspected by the guards one last time, likely searching for the stolen goods that were now in Lokah territories. Major Swiftblade turned on his mount to count my shells and moved his fingers around to check my eyesight.
“Are you ready to leave the cities behind?”
“I will miss Kru, but, more ready than not sir.”
“Are you not afraid of the unknown?”
“Sir, I am confident that you prepared me for whatever happens.”
“Oh? You think this is not a simple escort mission?”
“No sir. Why else would they need all of this security?”
“You are afraid.”
“No sir, I am ready sir- for anything.”
“We will see, soon enough.”
Past the gate, the mercs let their brawny barking go unabashed. Even against the heavy clopping of hooves we could hear them calling out to those in the outskirts. The unwalled shanty-town outside of the city was designed as uniformly as it could have been without a single copper spent on supplies. The poor simply cut into the rock face and used wood from the surrounding area.
The Lantos, in their infinite wisdom, had graciously installed them a clean water pipe that went buried along the north side of the road. Both of the cities looked beautifully stained in a soft scarlet glow by the afternoon sun. Just as the three mother’s aligned with their domes, the raised isle of New Lantya completed the pattern with a third landmark. All the pipes led to the base step of the vertical western slope. There was traffic on the road headed south along the wall. The Lantos were indeed preparing a ceremonial pyre for their fallen spy. As we rose, the hodgepodge hovel disappeared. Thankfully, the smell went with along it. The high mountain wall was no longer cut down clean and the road was less even. The trees consumed the landscape all around, as the mountain disappeared into the north. Not until that moment did I realize how much I had taken the perfectly secured high road for granted.
We stopped early the first night to bed down in the best vantage point. Everything was covered in a layer of ice from the morning’s rain and the fire took far too long to start. I was preparing the pot for buttered bone meal when my fire pit was suddenly rushed in on by the entire convoy.
“What is this Master Shale? Did you give up on starting a fire of your own?”
“As did we little one. Best to keep the light down under the ground like you’ve got it. Seems we overlooked bringing a shovel.”
“Yea, we forgot our shovel, that’s all.”
The brutes scared the Ambassador’s driver so bad he was excessively nice towards me, though, he made sure to avoid looking directly at my spots. He went so far as to fetch wood from the other two failed fires without my asking.
“Uh, thank you, sir. I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name?”
“Slip. Just Slip, sonny.”
I had held out my hand for him to shake. He ignored it, choosing to rub his hands over the fire.
“Ah, would you happen to know when you’ll be serving dinner?”
“Yea, let’s get a move on. We aint pass by no streams to fish from, and that warm broth will do a lot better than nothing. Come on boy, don’t look so surprised.”
“Oh, uh, well, you see…the count is only three months ration for three. I don’t know why I divvied up three shares. Just thought maybe, because I saved his life, Kru would’ve been coming with us. Oh bother. And after all that falling off cliffs…”
Major Swiftblade leaned out of his tent and made a sad face at me.
“This first pot I measured for just the two of us, so…”
Major Swiftblade shook his head.
“But, of course, we are the disciplined soldiers. Slip, you can share this batch with…with?”
“Oh, right. That’ll be Ambassador Crow”
“Do tell him we said hello.”
Our bowls were wooden like our spoons, and as dull as the clay jugs for water. They worked well for use in the wild. The fine dishes that Slip carefully removed from his master’s chest were out of place. The brilliant porcelain was whiter than the moon’s face on the icy pavement. Poor Slip was horrified to see the brutes taking bowls and spoons for themselves but daren’t speak a word in protest. It was too shameful for him to share a lord’s wares with commoners, so his head was low on his walk back to the boxed wagon.
Shale’s men banged the silver spoons against the bowls impatiently as they waited for their share. Only Shale himself risked b
admouthing me as I mixed and stirred their food. Either fighting them first hand had earned me their respect, or, being in control of their dinners from now on had convinced them to bite their tongues.
“So, Clarence, what made you leave the mines?”
“Ha! Clarence.”
“Shut it. Johnny the Knuckle. As if you’ve only got the one.”
“Yea, you put that pauper in his place Master Tonney!”
“What?”
“No. Wait. Well, yea but, what of it?”
“Just didn’t know I was protecting two lords is all.”
Shale was being falsely polite and waving his fingers in the air. Johnny shrieked with laughter. And, with every word Clarence spoke in his own defense, it only got louder.
“Yes sir, there he is, Lord of the Ditch Diggers, House of Shovel.”
I bowed to him and he lashed out, just missing my head with the spoon.
“You’re all jealous. Never learned to read or write, or eat with your mouth closed.”
“Oh my, look at me. I got high marks in school and all the gold stars.”
“Irrigation, sanitation, aqueducts! Do these words mean nothing to you?”
“Was he the teacher’s pet boss?”
“What do you know of math and the angles? You’re only mad because you’re dumb.”
“Meow, meow. Teacher, may I lay at thy feet and do thy bidding. Meow, teacher.”
“Oh yea? That’s a lot better than this one. Always being a pest, questioning everything and- and no respect for god given authority.”
“Like the authority given to the Tonney’s? And yet, Ulfbar has burned to the ground.”
His big finish blew right back in his face. Even Major Swiftblade stomped in the cart and squeezed his stomach so hard he moaned for food.
“Alright, alright, stuff it. You were saying, sire?”
“Yea, like I was saying. The governors closed down half the legal’s block. Turned it over, now the whole mine is three quarters criminal. Those odds don’t measure up. I aint that dumb Swillian. That is exactly how your father done it. Took months to clear the mines. Every time they sent in more guards, they’d get eaten. I aint going out like that.”
“You thought there would be another invasion?”
“Yea, Johnny, tell ‘em what you saw.”
“Yes, sire. I’ll tell you’s what I seen. I was up in Kowena, right. I’m boxing the hell out of those golden haired boys, right. I was making a fortune, swimming in ladies. Next thing you’s know, damn UNF shows up in a big march. Uniforms everywhere, pushy tots. Governments and experts only- they was saying. Whole province gearing up for the damn end times. Every cleric in the world was on the road, talkin’ about judgement is come.”
“You hear that boy? Got out of Ulfbar just in time, aint you?”
I was unsure of how to process my thoughts. Luckily, Shale was fine with my silence as I was pouring their dinner. My hands were shaking from hunger when I finally got to measure out our powder.
“What did you just decide boy?”
“I’m sorry, I was just measuring a share for Kru.”
“No, before that.”
“Ah, I was simply agreeing with you sir. I am very lucky indeed, to be in the honorable Master Swiftblade’s charge.”
“Out with it boy. I saw you shake it off, couldn’t have been any good. Spill it already.”
Major Swiftblade understood that I had called for his attention, but, he was just as interested.
“Go ahead Matthius. I would like to hear this.”
“Well, no one told me anything, and obviously it’s just an opinion.”
“Out with it!”
“It’s just, if they took control of the nation’s largest food supply and kicked out every priest without a hilt…”
“Then, what?”
“They are clearly raising an army. I mean, they even filled the mine with fresh labor to get at every last scrap of iron.”
“I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! It’s a setup. They sent me out here what because I seen the truth. I’m sorry boys, the must have known you’s heard my story and-”
“Snap out of it Johnny.”
Shale slapped the boy and turned him back into a man.
“Sorry boss, ugh. Your soup’s burning boy.”
“Dammit!”
The unstirred film had indeed burned around the edge of the pot. Luckily, after cooking for a third time, it served to make the soup thicker with extra burnt bits.
“Mmm, this reminds me of that disgusting gruel at the mine.”
“Hey, that weren’t me, alright? We had to live off that garbage same as you.”
“Meh, it’s ash under the fire now. How was Nicky when you left? And Harold, did he get in trouble over the stash?”
“No way in hell he knows the Cyclops. Don’t even try to lie.”
“Honest boss, thick as thieves. The strangest thing- I know. Harold’s still sulking around wishing to trade in his priestly robes for a uniform.”
“Who cares about that weak tart? How’d you win his favor, being a Swillian and all? You do know he ate a whole fire bomb to the face?”
“I know what Nickolas chose to share. We made a good team.”
“Well, call me a eunuch. Friends with Nickolas Belutgrava himself. Alright then boy, you must be worth your own salt, if he says so.”
“Um, excuse me, what? He never said he was related to the Bloodaxe.”
“Yea, freak’s cousin was in town just yesterday. Ah, reckon you were there with him? The Lantos got so scared from all the noise, they up and closed the bank. Can you believe that? No more loans. As if the beggars came all that way for anything else.”
“Yes, well, the people needed to see that. They need hope- not handouts.”
“The people need hope. Right you are boy!”
The Ambassador had popped out of his boxed wagon. He threw the door open wide and all of us felt the heat rush out. He threw it back closed just as hard, and nearly crushed Slip.
“Sorry, watch out. Mind the dishes Slip.”
Before the Ambassador stepped into the fire’s light, I could see that he too was dressed up in a ridiculous costume. The flowing white robes seemed more ceremonial than professional. I was staring too hard at the dirt smeared on his face, and he pulled open his collar as if it were the normal reaction to seeing his strange tattoo for the first time. There was only one line of ink tracing across his eyes and down across his chest and he explained it without being asked.
“‘All I see, I am become.’ It’s a poem about wisdom son. I wear my life’s experiences on my chest as a fine chain.”
“Good story sir. Thanks for the bowl and spoon.”
Shale rolled his eyes round at the Ambassador’s words and laid the dishes down carefully in the wet grass. His mates did the same, stacking their bowls upon his and heading back to their cart. Slip knelt down and added theirs, nodding to me pleasantly. On his platter also sat a porcelain tea pot which he affixed to my spit’s crossbeam- again without asking. At least having more dishes to do gave me an excuse to wait for them to be done all at once.
“Master Crow, I am Matthius, Cadet Commando.”
I offered him a salute that he did not return, nor even acknowledge.
“Well met Matthius, no title?”
“No sir, not yet.”
“You look like a maul yourself- wider than you are tall. Hmm, they are more expensive.”
“I say he looks like Gojinus, but that’s not my business.”
“So, you consul to the Chron nation. Any relation?”
“Yes, very perceptive son. My mother’s father moved to Embraun to reopen the Embassy. His wisdom was instrumental in pushing the war back out to sea. This is no accidental meeting child. You see, I too, am a child of two nations. That, and we both lost a father in Ulfbar.”
“Couldn’t have combined two more powerful nations sire.”
“I don’t know Slip, a pauper with the bloo
d of empire royals. That’s a mix no one ever sees, until the arrows start flying.”
“That’s right sire, a popular mix for a dirty Swillian spy.”
“But then, they weren’t the Emperor’s favorite. Never a Commando.”
Master Crow did his best to ignore Slip’s negative commentary. He was more focused on studying the bits of a soul behind my eyes. Luckily, he continued unabashedly from years of practice.
“Peace between the two nations is easy enough to maintain, so long as they go unprovoked. Isn’t that right Slip?”
“Yes sir. Provocation is a fool’s errand.”
“Especially when there are more important goals to put our efforts towards reaching.”
I found Master Crow’s hard won wisdom to be fitting of such a metaphorical tattoo. Slip, however, took an extra moment to realize his behavior had become the very topic of our discussion.
“Yes sir, like this here tea. Got to mind the brew or it gets burned.”
“Exactly right Slip.”
“Then why pay tribute? Why do you keep trying to bring them into the fold?”
“They are the only thing standing between the western shore and the rest of the union.”
“Why won’t they join? Do the Chron not trust the Lantos?”
“No. Their failure to save the Clovus from annihilation. No matter how long that wound has had to heal, there will always be the scar.”
“I know of them. They lived in the far west, beyond the pass.”
“Yes, and now they live no more. Even without the hope of a successful communion, it is good for me to be with my people. Every year I go back, and I come bearing gifts. It’s almost time for the spring festival. We will eat heartily, drink aplenty, and celebrate what little peace we do have. If nothing else, for the childrens’ sake.”