The 108 Chapter 33: Gooood morning Obis (Patreon)

AN: This chapter was meant to cook a little longer, but we hit rank 1 on Rising Star and there are a lot of newcomers so I figured I could get two chapters this week as a way of showing my appreciation for all this support. Apologies if there are typos, and I'll fix the chappie a bit later. Cheers!

“It is customary to kneel,” the old man says.

Silence spreads throughout the command tent. I am still politely bowing when Osiru subtly tenses by my side. The old man in question is Lord Aster, a fifth awakening and the general who thwarted the siege of Prime twice. He’s also the one who burnt the suburbs to the ground and anyone who wouldn’t evacuate. He’s a bit of a hardass.

The younger man and current Azure Prince is a younger, handsome lad at the third ascension. Brown curly hair, golden eyes, very princely. He’s fairly young, and apparently the bastard of a nephew of the previous king before the conflict started, and yes, the ancestral bloodline is that depleted. 

I reply in perfect Ten-Sah. The tongue of ancient kings rolls over the crowd with the slow momentum of living history.

“With all due respect, milords, I am a free citizen of Enderlith, and only recognize the suzerainty of the archons themselves. You have my obedience, but not my subservience.”

The Azure Prince’s soul radiates with confusion and worry. Ah, lad, didn’t complete your language lessons, did ya? A few mutters from around the tent in a language I do not understand confirms that Obisians do not, in fact, speak the ‘Sah’ language natively. But of course, General Aster understands it. He replies in Kei-Sah to save his boss from further embarrassment.

“A mercenary with a spine and an education? Consider me impressed. I’ll give you a hundred credits to kneel now.”

What I want to say is that he can shove them up his ass, but I’m an adult with proper emotional management. But seriously that rich twat Peter told me the same thing when I was 12 and I punched him in the nose.

I just need to be diplomatic about it, or the Bleak Hounds will pay for my disrespect.

“Thank you for the kind offer, but I must decline at this stage. May I inquire as to why you called for me?”

Osiru goes very still, but Lord Aster only smiles like he learned something valuable. He adroitly turns to the table, focusing our attention on the matter at hand. The table shows a colored sand representation of the land around us with a degree of precision that only a satellite could match. Blue and green blots hug a lazy river heading east, towards the town of Volfal towering over a bend in the river like an ancient guardian.

“Altough our progress is going well so far, we have lost three awakened to the ambushes. Your timely warning prevented further loss. We are also aware that your perception might be sharper than that of your peers.”

Lord Aster isn’t a question so I don’t reply. Lord Aster looks up to the prince who takes over, voice confident as if he had rehearsed.

“We would like the Bleak Hounds’ first team to take the lead on the main path. We will, of course, provide overwatch.”

He smiles thinly. I did ask Osiru why a fourth or fifth path couldn’t just clear the way, but he told me it was because such a task would be terribly energy intensive. Big spells and all that. The time and energy of such powerhouses can’t be wasted on mundane chores a crew of workers could just as well do in a mere few days. It makes sense to me, but I’m definitely sure it’s also a question of ego. Can’t have melord commit meat gardening in front of the peons. Now the head honcho will have the royal army’s highest high soul awakened serve the crown for all to see, as is appropriate. Dance, monkey, dance.

“Am I to understand you wish to revise the contract?” Osiru dares ask.

“The contract,” Lord Aster pointedly replies while his staff takes a step back, “is that you help us take back our planet. We decide the battle plan and how you’re deployed.”

He lowers the tension with a smile.

“Within reason, of course.”

“You would ask a boon of us?” the Azure Prince asks in the following pause, like a well practiced bad lord good lord routine.

“Hazard bonus, and…”

Osiru gives me a measuring look.

“Cultivation aides for Citizen Prentiss.”

“Flesh and star, if you have it,” I add not to make the same mistake twice in a row.

“You already know your affinities? As a first awakened?” the prince asks, surprised.

Damn.

“I had a comprehensive test, and yes,” I reply in my most immaculate Kei-Sah.

I can almost see them categorize me in the ‘extensively tested crippled scion’ category before losing interest. They have what they want.

“It will be arranged,” Lord Aster says dismissively. “We will call for you in the morning. Dismissed.”

We don’t need to be asked twice. Osiru glares at me all the way back.

“What?”

“I can’t decide if you’re going to get us killed or get us rich. Maybe both.”

I turn to face him.

“Look, I know this all seems weird but I promise you, I will explain everything to you after I’ve reached second awakening. It’s my problem and it won’t…”

I hesitate.

“Shouldn’t affect you. And I promise you: I’m on your side.”

Osiru takes a deep breath. When he exhales, wind mana expands away from us, pushing back the ever-present scent of carrion. 

“You have given me no reason to doubt you, Steev. Alright, let’s prepare.”

***

Now that Osiru has a better understanding of what I can do, and what we’re expected to be doing, Team 1 practices soul-connected maneuvers under the baffled gaze of other teams and mercenary outfits in general, who wisely use the time to rest instead. Osiru is especially interested in the ability to assign someone to deal with a foe with a mere thought rather than having to scream orders, an ability that few other groups have. The next morning, we’re reassigned to the center of the formation. We progress quickly, not least because we remain unbothered. Bleak light and a drizzle make this a miserable experience, but it’s only marginally worse than going to work in Croydon so I endure. After we’ve cleared the way with the liberal application of war staff projectiles, entire teams of awakened attack the mutated polyps from the base, cutting the thick ropey structures with large saws until only flat stumps remain. They’ll regrow, maybe, but not before the trucks have moved over the newly made highway, and the campaign is hopefully finished. After three days of gruelling work with the constant sounds of other guys getting ambushed, we’re through. The lead elements of the army progress quickly while Team 1 is tasked with helping open two other channels starting from the other direction. It’s back to the polyp fields with us.

We’re only attacked once. A weird spine flies through gaps in the crimson pillars, hitting Ledi in the arm and taking the limb on its way out. The attack came from far beyond my range. In response, spells come from behind us, bathing an area of the path in water which then forms an upward whirlpool, taking polyps and bodies until they’re mixed in a muddy brown mush. Then it falls. Two minutes later, a tiny wave laps at my boots.

“Ew,” Higo says. “I think I saw a toe.”

“Then get your shoes fixed,” Osiru replies. “What are you ladies waiting for? Move.”

***

With four paths through the minefield cleared, the entire army trudges through in thick columns leading trucks filled with supplies and equipment. The Bleak Hounds are soon sent to the front, and Team 1 is constantly called upon to investigate anomalies. The ‘claves’, as they’re called by the royal regulars, do not stand and fight. At least for now. Instead, they form roaming bands of skirmishers who strike and retreat within the same ten seconds regardless of their losses. To counter this, the royals have developed a well-oiled system of ‘combat patrols’, and by this, I mean we ambush them almost as often as they ambush us. With this, the army advances in a constant, rolling wave of localized struggles. Silence is never there for more than a few minutes before a new group of people fights, screams, and dies over distant hills, a din that reverberates over the mangled forests and rotten remains of thousands of years of history. Every day, we wake up at the ass crack of dawn, spend the day running around with brief breaks for food, and return to camp past nightfall where I meditate under the stars if the weather allows. It’s snowing now.

After another week of that, Enderlith explodes. I was looking up expecting it, of course, and that night we were right under it with distant fires dying the air a dull red. Those deaths are as silent as I remember them, the dust barely visible from down there. Nothing more than a few puffs of crystal dust shining in the light of the star, like the pathetic blast of a particularly sad party popper. Yet another tragedy in a year of tragedy, as far as Obis is concerned.

The mood is somber that night, the people worried. I shake my head when Higo tries to strike a conversation with deluded ideas that ‘it might be nothing’. Even Sunny cannot help. He remains a rock Scar clings to in the low hubbub of panicked conversations, but he knows it’s bad. Clearly, he’s in control of his affinity. 

As expected, we’re back at it the next morning.

***

Fuck the mud. I think it’s the third time I plunge knee deep in a hole and half-expect one of those pit traps Sprig periodically warns us about. Bless that skeletal rogue bastard. 

“Village ahead,” Riga mumbles.

We can all see it. Perhaps, at one time, it would have been a quaint and cozy spot, but now the claves have turned into some spiky fortified barbaric dwelling you would expect in a more adult version of Mad Max, with more tits and gore. Rows of weird plants reach all the way to scraggly trees where we pretend we have cover. I expand my perception forward in a tight beam, dulling the information for the others because I don’t want merc sick on my boots again. I immediately spot the ambush. 

“Riga,” Osiru says, though the scar tissue moppet’s already brandishing his disembowelinator. 

He shoots towards the ground. There is a great spay of flesh and mud and bone bits now that I get a second glance. No movement. We can do this all day. Or at least until Riga runs out. A second blast, killing another buried reaver. Yes, you manky pillocks, we can see you. 

They erupt out of the ground. I already lined up one of the larger fuckers with the Defender. There is a beep, and ‘she’ stumbles, paralized. Earth spikes aimed at my head get blocked by a radiant shield then it’s fire and wind and rocks and blades and spears and the crunches, squelches, and screams of the business in a dizzying kaleidoscope of fucked up. I can’t follow, and won’t be able to fight until I’m back to third awakening. I’m used to it by now. Osiru signals to fall back, the entirety of Team 1 retreating at a steady space with the kind of coordination only I can provide. The reavers that were rushing us from farther away flee while those already in contact either manage to escape, or get caught and killed by the hardened veterans. Less than thirty seconds of untold violence and we’re left in control of the field with half a dozen dead reavers strewn about plus bits of a few more. It stinks of blood and shit. Vapor steams the air from the hard-breathing mercenaries and the open entrails cooling in the frigid air. Higo stabs the muscular woman I paralyzed with his spear, at the back of the head where it usually kills them. We all feel her die.

“This one’s yours, Steev,” Higo says with a brittle smile. “Good job!”

“... thanks.”

“Forward,” Osiru says, cutting us short.

I reassert the soul control, sweeping the area. There’s one more twat hiding above the gate, hanging upside down from some sort of guard tower. Half a second later the tower is torched and Scar lowers her hand, the pain of her mana strain something I have to block from the others. Sprig checks the door for mechanical traps, and then we’re in. The village has been turned into barracks with dead royal guards hanging from bloody hooks in the crusty drapes of their soiled uniforms, meat harvested to feed strange vines heavy with fat fruits even in this late winter. I mean, at least it’s not cannibalism, right? A pulse of familiar mana hits me from farther away, deeper behind the main building. Weirdly, only Osiru, Scar, and I pick it up. 

“Altar,” Osiru whispers.

Scar shivers, panic rising until I gently share my sense of confidence. She clamps hard on her emotions, and I am slammed away though it doesn’t feel malicious. We wordlessly move forward between unadorned wood buildings with the remnants of careful carvings and recent damage fixed with carelessly hacked logs. Scar strides with an eagerness she doesn’t feel.

Osiru signals for the group to stop. 

“Scar, with me.”

“Can I come as well?” I ask.

For a moment, a spike of frustration makes me believe I’ll be refused, but resignation soon replaces it. I follow the dark man wearing a darker expression between rows of strange growths bearing grisly trophies. Then we find it in a little clearing strangely clear of mud, surrounded by green grass untouched by the heavy boots even the reavers wear. The altar isn’t what I expected, at least not for something with the ability to brainwash captured civilians if the proper ritual is used. It’s a wicker construct of fallen branches and carved rocks like a primitive statue to some outer God, except that no, under this angle, it almost looks like a … a tree? 

No fucking way. Ah, but of course. The mana it exudes is aspected to flesh among other things. Of course. I mean, I should have fully expected it. And now I’m curious.

“So… question?” I ask.

Osiru glares, but then I momentarily lift the restriction to let him feel how drained Scar is

“Take five,” Osiru immediately orders her. “Steve, let the others know.”

I send a short impression of rest and there isn’t a single mercenary left standing within the next second, Scar is already scarfing down mana snacks including some spicy jerky while I have to contend with the very slimy caterpillar for flesh-aspected mana food. How is that fair? Whatever.

“What was the question?” Osiru asks with just a wee bit of impatience.

“So, everybody knows this is an altar to Transformation, right?”

Osiru freezes. Scar chokes on her jerky. I’m left frowning.

“What do you mean?” the lieutenant demands to know.

What indeed.

“I guess not, but seriously. Look: invasive tissue changes, rapid muscle development, mind deterioration, unnatural coordination, and the altars are in the form of the Tree of Everything and they bleed flesh mana? This has Transformation written all over it.”

“The fuck’s a Tree of Everything? How do you even know all of this; are you a priest? Wait, recruit, this is important data. You need to…”

He pauses because he has come to the same realization I have.

“There is no way in fuck the leaders don’t know about it. In fact,” I say, frowning. “Isn’t there only a nominal guild presence here?”

“Guild?”

“The Fleshcrafters guild.”

Osiru scratches his chin, nails grating my nerves alongside his stubble.

“The healers, you mean? What does it have to do with anything? I always assumed it’s because the royals are beyond broke at this stage of the war.” he replies.

“Yeah, but the guild does pro bono work, and they’re always looking for new samples, yet they avoid this place? It doesn’t make sense unless they’d have another reason to pull back. Fleshcrafters abhor Transformation, because of the sway the divinity used to have over… them. ”

I almost said us. Hmm. I still don’t get it.

“But then why hide it, or at least not mention it? Or maybe there is simply no benefit to knowing?” I wonder.

My mind churns with the possibilities. I am absolutely certain the leadership of both non-insane factions know. They cannot have spent seven years in this war without finding out, so there must be another reason. And what is Transformation doing here anyway? Is it a coincidence that there is an invasion here and a mutated plague on Enderlith at the same time? I want to say no, of course, and yet the reavers are nothing at all like the abominations. They remain human though brainwashed. They have self-preservation instincts, they plan, they fall back. They use tools and spells. 

Wouldn’t it make sense for Transformation’s avatar to come down here earlier, or at least send her minions? Unless there is a maximum range for her tree thing? Gah, so many questions. And no answer. But still, it’s something to keep in mind, I suppose?

“Steev?”

“What?”

Osiru’s suddenly very close and I lean back because he’s in my personal space.

“Get those thoughts out of your crowded brain, recruit. We saw an altar, we burnt the altar as ordered. That’s all. Got it?”

He’s right. No point in making waves.

“Yes.”

Scar nods to signal she agrees. She hasn’t looked at the thing since we arrived in the clearing. Her hands shake ever so slightly. Osiru and I wait close.

“I am fine. I will be fine. Give me five more minutes,” Scar asks. 

“Recruit, you mentioned flesh mana. If you want to meditate, now’s the time.”

“Right.”

And I do so. For a few blessed minutes, flesh mana roars through all three gates. I don’t even need the soul syphon because it’s such a gluttonous and enthusiastic aspect. I keep my attention on my body and soul in case the altar tries something, but it doesn’t. It just stays there like an ominous statue of some antediluvian evil bleeding through the cracks of nightmares. I focus on my breathing when the twigs start to bleed into one another. 

I get full in under five minutes. It’s an incredible banquet of energy for outside of Enderlith. Osiru has been keeping a close eye on me. I’m about to exercise when there is a new sound, some sort of whistle. I am very confused. Osiru isn’t.

“Run!” he screams. “Spread out!”

The shock of the yell only lasts long enough for him to grab me by the collar and then I’m pulled by the wind. We are over the walls in a single jump and then through more fields, and there are mercenaries dead sprinting behind us and the whistle is much more intense, ending in a strange whizzing sound. 

The village explodes behind us. Something hits our right. The ground heaves. The air is sucked from my lungs, my eyes are close to bursting and my skin pushed by the angry air. I would have fallen if I were not already being carried. Another deafening explosion erupts behind and I forget where up is and down is and for a moment I think I’ll see my guts spread over the blighted fields, but we’re not hit and I am still whole, and we are past scraggly trees and we keep running, but the last thing I see is Higo unfolded over a low walls with bloody fingers reaching towards us.

***

It is dark. We haven’t made camp, and we have lit no fires. Sprig found us an old tree out of the way with branches so thick, the rain doesn’t get through. We find the cold ashes of previous fires, so it must have been used regularly. No one speaks when we eat cold rations or after, when Scar casts a heat spell that dries the packed soil. I sit at a distance, then I stand up and move to the edge as far away from the sentry as I can. There are no stars tonight, because it’s still raining. 

I pull my soul in so I don’t have to feel the surface gloom of the other hounds. It’s a little uncomfortable, but finally, I have peace. I just let the rain fall on my stupid poncho. I’m not even that cold. 

I wish I had tea.

“Hey.”

I heard someone come, but I expected Sunny. Instead, Osiru sits by my side after a burst of wind chases water away from a nearby stump. 

“So,” he begins. “First time losing a friend?”

I consider a joke. I really do, some ridiculous puns about finding them again later or some other lame deflection, but Osiru won’t appreciate it. He’s not the type.

“No, that’s the weird thing. I’ve lost… people before.”

How many times has Krane died for me? He always comes back, though. And Higo will come back, as well. So why am I sad?

“It’s not even the first time I see someone open like that, actually. I’ve seen plenty of organs during training. Sometimes, even my own…”

Osiru frowns mightily. I guess I can try my new strategy.

“Look, I wanted to tell you after I reach second awakening, but I guess now is as good a time as ever. The reason why I’m trying to progress fast is that, actually, I’m a novice fleshcrafter. And before you protest, yes I’m currently first awakening, but really I’m third and under a sort of… of curse, or disguise. Both. The spell is called Visage of the Meek, and it helps someone hide as a weaker individual, then so long as they’re second awakening, they can quickly rebuild their true body. Well, maybe not that quickly.”

“You’re serious?”

I share a few impressions of me being third awakening and closing my own wounds. Life can be convenient, sometimes. Osiru immediately believes me which is an unexpected boon.

“So that’s why you know your affinities already, and you can absorb them, and you’re so proficient at meditation yet still so low, and one of them’s flesh, or how you can speak like a Patrician yet you have no gene mods. And why you’re crazy.”

“We’re not crazy,” I correct. “We simply see the human body in a different light.”

His expression is loaded with polite disbelief.

“Ay, you really are one of them. I was wondering if you were a martial spy, actually, but this makes much more sense. And I’ve watched you. You’ve made no attempt at getting any sort of info that would be useful for them. Now, I get it. So, why are you hiding?”

“I made a powerful enemy,” I reply trying to accept that he’s kept an eye on me and never fully trusted me until now. Maybe he still doesn’t.

I lean forward until we’re almost eye to eye.

“There is a price on my head if you want to collect?”

“Sure, I’ll collect it after Harmony herself carries me up to Enderlith on fluffy butterfly wings while Indolence sucks me off. I’m not sacrificing a team mate for some gilded asshole, Steev. Now, I want to know. How long will it take for you to return to full strength after you’re second awakening?”

“I’m not sure because I’ve never done it before. It will take less than a month, though. Of that I’m sure.”

“And… I heard you guys can grow tentacles and fight like monsters?”

I shake my head.

“I’m a novice. That means I don’t have a war form yet, sorry. I can heal people better than Stitch though, and that’s the problem. If I were at my normal strength, I could have saved Higo.”

Osiru chews on that piece of information for a while. Almost literally, because he’s grinding his teeth. The pause allows me a breath of relief. It was a bit of a gamble, telling Osiru a partial truth, but if I get to third awakening within a year without a valid excuse, I’m going to end in the Widowgrasp with ‘galaxy’s dumbest spy’ seared upon my ass in Gothic letters. And I’m not staying at second. I’m not committed to this loop enough to care about not being found out.

“If I had us close in rather than spread, he would have made it,” Osiru eventually says. “But protocol says we need to spread out to avoid getting wiped out, or getting killed if those are not artillery spells but some fifth awakening wanker who can change the spell’s trajectory mid-flight. Or Higo could have run faster. You’ll drive yourself crazy thinking what if, what if, when none of this was under your control.”

I stop to consider his words and find no solace in them. Because eventually more and more things will be ‘under my control’. I thought I had already decided that I had to do what I could do and accept that people would suffer and die while I improve. It looks like accepting it in my heart won’t be that easy.

“Thanks, maybe I needed to hear that,” I lie.

“Look, it won’t be easy to accept this, but you need to get your focus back. You’ve closed us off, and that’s a problem because now the gilded clowns in charge expect us to function at a certain level, and if you’re not there, we can’t. And we’re going to get killed. I’m not saying you can’t grieve, mind you, just…”

“Alright, just give me tonight.”

Osiru links his fingers together. For the first time since we met, he looks vaguely embarrassed.

“Look, recruit. Steev. I know I’m being selfish here, but we’re really all counting on you. Just… take a moment and then return. We lost people. We’ll lose more people before it’s over, I’d wager. You can still make a difference.”

“Yeah, yeah. As I said, I just need a moment.

“And one last question,” he says, standing up.

I feel like it’s a pretty important one.

“You really thought hiring as a mercenary would be the safest spot for you?”

“No one’s found me yet,” I reply with a shrug,

Osiru holds back a torrent of words with pursed lips. I don’t think he agrees with my decision, but he does leave and I practice soul magic to keep my mind busy. 

The next day, the royals order us back to camp where we find out half of team 2 got caught in pitch battle with an elite reaver formation, killing half and forcing the rest to recover for the remainder of the campaign.

***

After the intense skirmishes of the first weeks, the army aspires to some respite when we enter wide plains rich with the remains of one of Obis’ many breadbaskets. There is little cover to be had for rapid bands of marauders to come and go so the royals finally make quick progress while the martials to our north struggle with some of the worst marshes since utilitarian philosophy became a thing. The hounds are, of course, shit out of luck. As one of the more mobile formations with a mode of communication that cannot be intercepted, Lord Aster tasks us with protecting the many supply convoys making sure the army is fed , because we might have cleared the land behind us, but the claves certainly didn’t get the memo. Every day, roaming bands attempt to board those large land ships to kill everyone on board. It’s our job to patrol the roads using my soul as a reaver-detector due to their tendency to burrow. We actually find quite a few. 

Three months in and team 3 joins us to hunt a rather large warband that managed to board one of the trucks, kill the crew, steal the contents, and burn the vehicle. Sprig goes ahead over the hilly land, guiding us between narrow corridors to avoid being seen by sentries. It’s a slow slog amidst pallid grass clinging to muddy pools between mounds of ancient stones, cracked by age and the elements. The wind is chilly and incredibly wet. It’s like a marginally more murderous Scotland. We finally get close enough to a cave that I feel a large group milling around while two bored sentries stand guard by the entrance. Osiru signals, then he and Sprig leave. I feel them get closer to their prey. Two lives are snuffed in an instant.

Osiru sends me a signal to move on. We gather near the entrance.The cave started off as a rather small mouth with tiny stalactites ending a few meters deep. Some enterprising asshole dug through the sheer rock, which is doable with time and magic apparently. What I’m more surprised by is that they must have moved the loose stone some distance because there is no evidence of any sort of digging anywhere I can see as we walk closer. Osiru kneels by the entrance, eyes searching although we know the claves are deeper inside.

“Alright. Looks like we’ll have some time before the next guard rotation. Let’s prepare the terrain. Any ideas besides the normal traps?”

“Smoke them out?” I suggest.

Osiru shakes his head, but then he reconsiders.

“Smoke inhalation won’t hurt those freaks too much, but you gave me another idea. In the meantime, Scar and Tibia, you’re up.”

The two teams quietly get in formation with mages and archers at the back, on top of a nearby knoll so they have a good view of the killing field. Scar sets some contact explosive spells while the lady named Tibia deploys an impressive variety of traps and wires she camouflages using what might be shadow magic. Osiru draws a circle on the ground before casting something complex with ample mutterings of ancient words. I see glyphs appear and disappear near the circle. Twenty minutes later, two sleepy guards come to relieve the dead pair. We all hide until Tibia has strangled the both of them. By now, a few of the people inside have realized something is wrong. I perceive agitation and we hear confused mutterings.

“Ok, they’re coming,” Osiru says. “Whatever you do, don’t get in. I made the air there unbreathable.”

Soon, a disorganized squad heads out. The first get their legs stuck before being picked off by distant spells. Others charge ahead with cries of alarm while a couple simply retreats into the cave. Those who attack die on a few exploding fire spells, and the rest are so outnumbered they fall in seconds.

“Serious attack coming,” I say, showing a large group of reavers assembling around a burning soul. This one is soul awakened. She perceives me before I can pull back. A dozen lives are being extinguished, killed in their sleep by whatever gas Osiru has unleashed. 

The reavers charge out with a great cry. 

The leader is a massive beast of a woman with a maul who pulps Ger from team 3 through a torrent of flames and spells. Sunny intercepts the titan in a flash of light. The maul wielder gets carried away from us and into a knoll with a shock that I can feel in my shoes. And then the rest of them are upon us. 

The sheer press of bodies is enough to break team 3’s formation, the fight almost immediately turning into a confused melee. I stand back to back with Scar as she sprays anyone who gets near the archers. There’s a mud-covered twat trying to strangle Stitch but an application of the Defender pushes him off. I don’t try to coordinate everyone since team 3 hasn’t trained, but I manage to tune in on the panic of familiar souls so I can direct team 1’s veterans to the rescue. Despite this, another two lives are snuffed before I can help them. Stitch is on the ground again, wounded from earlier. It’s just a second awakening strangling her right now…

I charge down over a cracked rock. Calculated risk, though Scar yells behind me. The reaver has landed on her back and he’s slamming her head into the mud. I land staff first on his back. He screams and yelps, turns to face me and then it’s a duel of me attacking him and him trying to stand up. Finally, he manages and grabs my staff, wrenching it from my hands. That’s fine.

Stitch grabs his ankle, making him stumble. I lift the silver hand of the Defender close to my body and shoot. He falls in a small heap. Mud covered, Stitch straddles his spasming form. I see a knife rising and plunging and I think she’ll be fine. Scar is here anyway. She grabs me by the collar and we reposition, but by then the battle is over. The weakened reavers have suffered too much bursting through the gauntlets of traps, and the mercenaries are no slouches either. We’ve won. Osiru and Sunny soon return alongside Sprig who apparently stabbed the lead reaver woman in the back — good lad. We do the usual task of making sure the reavers are really dead, a process where I shone. Then all’s left of us is a pack of mud-covered idiots and three dead in the middle of some wet highlands drenched in rain and freshly spilled blood, with the potent perfume of perforated gut to help us along.

Osiru takes one good look at us.

“I’ll clear the cave of gas, then let’s get in. We could use a break and perhaps recover some of the supplies.”

His eyes find me, and I get the impression I’m in trouble. Nevertheless, we amble on and into the soon purified cave where we find a surprisingly good set up with decent barracks. They even have showers. In less than twenty seconds, the bodies are carried away, and half of the team is consuming rations like they’re going to be stolen. Another minute later, they’re asleep. I get my turn in the shower which is a very cool magical shower that’s unfortunately rather tepid by now. A change of clothes later and I’m a new man. Stich finds me as I’m laying my cover on the ground. Some of the other mercs just picked the beds of the dead and then just plopped themselves on it which I find a little ghastly, even this late into the loop. They’re lying down on the same sweaty pillow as someone they just stabbed? I guess seven years of war can lower standards, but still…

“Hey,” I greet her.

Stitch looks to be in her late thirties, rugged and not exactly pretty with a muscular frame that gives her a feeling of solidity. Usually. Right now she’s been crying and her soul feels brittle.

“Thanks,” she whispers, voice made hoarse by the attack. And possibly choking on blood-tinged muddy water. Or maybe it’s the strangulation.

“Glad I could help,” I reply.

I get a soul poke from Osiru. He’s made the rounds and wants to talk, but decides he’ll give me a moment. The air around us starts smelling like dirty socks. I hope he can set up a ventilation system with those nifty spells of his. I am brought back to reality when Stitch kisses me.

My shock pushes her back with more impact that a slap would have. Her soul breaks like a cracked egg, releasing a degree of sadness, regret, shame, and self-hatred I had not expected.

“No wait, wait!” I say, grabbing her strong shoulders as she pulls away.

She freezes like a deer. I reel her back in softly, allowing sympathy to flood the pained shell of her mind.

“It’s just… remember the first time we all connected and Scar saw a naked chick? Yes, well, that’s my girlfriend back on Enderlith.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she sobs. “I didn’t know you had someone, or —”

“Hey hey. It’s alright.”

Damn.

I hadn’t expected that. 

“It’s been a long time since I got to be the awakened warrior in shining robes. Thanks for making me feel desired again,” I tell her in a lame attempt at levity.

Stitch leans against me in a sort of dense ball of feelings that doesn’t dare open herself again. Guilt assails me for a few seconds, but then I realize I’m being silly. The more upset I get and the more horrified she will be, so I force myself to breathe deep and radiate the sort of smug pleasure I have at being propositioned. I would have gone for it were it not for Kimera. It doesn’t matter that my favorite nerd has never seen me in this loop. It would still be cheating.

After a couple of minutes of awkward, friendly hugging, Stitch excuses herself so she can sleep. I find Osiru taking inventory of the various crates piled at the back of the cave system, all of them stamped with the royal seal. 

“Get the resin out and let’s burn it. Get the teams warm,” he orders Tibia.

“Got it, boss.”

“Ah, Steev. You’re there. Follow me.”

We go farther back, where the reavers had started digging an evacuation tunnel. It looks like they were still expanding the operation. Given the amount of supplies they stole in one hit, it makes sense.

“Recruit,” Osiru says without preamble. “Steev. I need to talk to you about what you did. You ran away from Scar, that true?”

I have to pause because it feels like a non sequitur, but then I get it.

“Stitch was dying.”

“And I get it, but I told you to stick to the duo, and I told the duo to protect you with their lives. At least one of them at all times. I also gave you instructions on how to behave in battle, and you didn’t follow them.”

“I couldn’t let Stitch die. She was just there,” I say.

“I know. I’m not saying you were an asshole or a dumbass, Steev, I’m trying to tell you…”

He scratches his chin and the sound of his calluses on stubble irritates my ear. Or maybe I’m just being a little sensitive right now.

“Look, it’s simple. You’re a power multiplier. The moment you die and we lose that soul connection, suddenly we’re back to being a second rate mercenary formation, but we still have the same difficulties to face. Even if we lose someone else, you cannot take the risk of dying for them.”

“How am I any more replaceable than, than Stitch?” I protest, although I know I’m being full of shit. Just can’t help it right now. “She’s our only medic. How about Sprig, for traps? Sunny to catch projectiles? How do we thin out the herd without Scar’s fire or your wind? Who leads us if you die? Are any of us replaceable?”

“And if Stitch dies, her children will lose their mother and the money that keeps them on station,” Osiru says with a flat voice. “None of us are really replaceable to the people who love us. I get it. But it doesn’t matter. I need you to listen to my orders and stick to the plan even if others should suffer, because if you start going rogue, and we lose that connection, the fuck up cascade might kill us all. I need to ask this of you, Steev, I need to ask you to put the squad and our tactics over your heart. You were lucky this time. The thing with gambling though, is that you cannot be lucky every time.”

I feel like I’ve been drenched in icy waters.

“This shit again,” I say.

“What do you mean?”

Krane said the same thing. He, too, was an experienced leader.

I give Osiru a good look. I don’t want to lash out at him. He’s doing what he’s supposed to be doing. But I don’t know how to express that. I need to try though. It’s not just for him. I need to voice it.

“I know that you’re right,” I slowly enunciate. “And you’re not the first person to tell me to act this way, but it’s hard, and I just can’t manage right now. I’ll listen to you as much as possible, but what you’re asking me right now is to silence my heart, and that’s hard. I don’t have it in me yet.”

I don’t know what to expect. The lieutenant’s soul is a controlled and caged beast, much unlike the wind he wields. After a meaningful silence, he pats my shoulder.

“You’re solid, Steev, especially for a fleshcrafter on the run. I respect that. Follow my orders and more of us get to go home at the end, that’s all I can say. Now, you should rest. We’re leaving tomorrow at dawn and we’re carrying those boxes with us.”

“I need air right now.”

Osiru shrugs, then to my surprise he does start working on some ventilation glyphs like I predicted. I guess he doesn’t enjoy the overwhelming stench of feet either. The passage up brings marginally more breathable air as well as a curious mound, a dire monument that catches me off guard. A dozen mercs have piled up the corpses of the dead reavers on a nearby elevation in a display that reminds me uncomfortably of the pile of ex-Steves waiting for me in Chronos’ domain. Someone rammed a small altar to Transformation on top of the macabre mountain, probably seized from the cave. Sunny walks to me with a winning smile.

“Hey, Steev! Was about to get you — good work today! Kasha’s going to burn those down but there’s a lot of flesh mana around, and I figured, maybe you want to get in some more meditation before we get started? You should be empty after that little scuffle.”

Scar gives me a sharp nod while two brawny lads launch the last corpse over the pile. They’re right. It’s a good place to get some energy, and I desperately need to rank up. Why not?

“Sure, give me just one second.”

 I turn around and vomit the entire content of my stomach.