“I don’t know” is not a good enough excuse. It is not enough for the Pathbearers under your command, it is not enough for the people you fail to protect, it is not enough for the cost it inflicts on the Republic.
You cannot afford to not know. Intelligence. Knowledge. Understanding. You can hate the enemy as much as you want, you can despise their culture, their faith, their very existence, but if anyone in this course ever tells me “I don’t know” again, I will formally request that you fall on a sword.
And if you lack a weapon that can pierce your flesh, I will loan you my blade.
The answer to the question, Young Lord Depon, is “I need more intelligence.” You will know. And you will understand your enemy. I don’t care that the orcs killed your brother at Lone Star. I don’t care what they did to his corpse. If you do, then you best start learning about the war-loving bastards because you’re going to run up against them at some point, and let me tell you, the stories of them being savage, barely literate beasts are mostly to cope with the fact that they are very, very cruel, and very, very good at war.
Now. We’re going to do this exercise again. This time, you take the role of the orcs, Young Lord Depon. Your objective is simple. Use the practice dimensionals to take the rest of the class’s positions or fail trying. And if you fail again, I am going to strike you from this class and leave you marked for ineptitude. You have the force advantage. You have them surrounded. Now. Take the fort and kill all the survivors.
Think like your enemy. Wear their skin. Win. The Republic demands that you learn, so obey me, and understand this is the only way out of the shadows of your past.
-Captain Harry Irons, TacStrat 101, Phoenix Academy
34 (I)
Recon
“So. What is for breakfast?” Adam asked, yawning. He blinked blearily at what Shiv was preparing and just stared ahead. His red hair was getting long and messy, parts of it clinging to his face. Sleep and nourishment became less and less of a necessity for Pathbearers after certain thresholds, but after the events of the last day, the Young Lord slumbered like he was one of the dead. “Are those… snakes?”
“Yeah,” Shiv grunted. “Give it a second. I’ve tried frying, slow roasting, and even boiling these with soup. You’ll get to try all three types and tell me which one you like best first.”
“Are you using me as a taster?” Adam asked, still frowning at the snakes. “And snakes? Really? Aren’t those poisonous?”
“Not entirely. Glands got harvested by the Sisters already.”
Adam shrugged. “How long have you all been up? Wait, how long did you sleep? It’s always damned hard to tell in the Abyss. There’s no sunlight, and the glowing veins make it feel like we’re living in perpetual twilight.”
“Slept about two hours. Maybe. Probably less. You were out cold by the time me and Uva got back from the waterfall. It’s not far if you want to clean up.”
“I think I’ll pass for now,” Adam said, trying to comb his hair with his fingers. “You won’t believe how many bugs are around this place… I’m surprised none of them managed to get into our camp.”
“That’s because the Sisters dosed the place with pheromones, and I keep crushing the larger bugs with my Biomancy. An ugly dog-sized scorpion thing with three tails got pretty close to your tent at some point. It’s part of the soup now.’
Adam froze and watched as Shiv dropped another slice of snake flesh into the bubbling cauldron. “Are you trying to gain a Poison Resistance skill?”
“That’s actually not a bad idea. But no. Sisters took the stingers too. Uva said they could make something useful with that.”
The Young Lord looked around at their camp. Aside from him, Shiv, and Valor floating at the opening of the cave they chose as campsite after their ambush, he saw only empty tents and the doused campfire. A set of alarm and minor protection wards circled the entrance of the cave, the spell patterns shimmering weakly with mana. “Where is everyone?”
“Scouting. Preparing. We got a Weaveress Shadow Cell coming in soon too. Trapdoor, according to Uva. They might have some details about the gate and how we can get closer among some other things. Uva also said they’ll be interested in talking to you about yesterday. Something about an after action regarding tactics and strategy.”
“Ah. Wonderful. It’s exactly like I’m back in TacStrat 101. Hopefully I don’t run into the Weaveress equivalent of Irons.” Adam paused. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d give a bloody lot for the man to be yelling at me right now. He would know how to take that gate—gate raids are practically his favorite thing in the world.”
“Sounds like an interesting guy.”
“He is. He would probably like you. To some extent. You’re his kind of person. Do or die. Try, try, try again without any hint of frustration or despair. And… Oh, that’s starting to smell really good.”
Shiv handed Adam a bowl of scorp-snake soup, and the Young Lord regarded the meal for a moment. He sniffed and then tentatively took a bite. His expression went blank. He closed his eyes. And seethed. “How do you keep doing this? This is absurd. I had a Master Chef for almost all my life.”
Cooking > 25
Shiv grinned both at Adam’s begrudging praise and at the two levels he got for Cooking. “Yeah? Well, your Master Chef doesn’t have Biomancy to judge the state of the meat. Or Georges.” Shiv’s grin faded. “Did he… have a fine mustache? Was kind of emotional at times?”
Adam stopped mid-swallow. “Yes?”
“Ah, shit,” Shiv said. He wasn’t sure how to go about this. He remembered the chefs slaughtered in the kitchen. The only reason he probably wasn’t among the dead initially was because Roland Arrow came personally to speak with him.
“What?” Adam said, his voice more severe.
Nothing for it. Rip the blade out. Shiv looked down and grunted. “He’s dead. So are most of the other people who used to cook for you. Kitchen got hit during the assault. I went back looking for Georges and found them. That’s where I got the chestpiece—it was given to me by a dying Family Guard… Feather, I think his name was. He and his sister both died fighting too. They all did what they could.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
The Young Lord stared at Shiv for a long minute. His face was calm, but there was a war raging behind his eyes. After a small eternity, he took a sip of soup. “I thought about throwing you off myself. Off Blackedge. When I realized you were the one helping me. Even when I was fighting the raven, there was something in me that hoped you were a reason for this, that I could finally be done with you.”
Shiv didn’t say anything. He just listened. Adam’s expression flared with brief anger and frustration. “But then you went and did the worst thing you could to me. You proved to be a decent man. And a good chef. And you have no idea how much this makes me hate you.”
Shiv regarded Adam momentarily, and then nodded. He cut another slice of meat—no reason not to prepare while dealing with this. Whatever was happening between him and Adam, the others could still use a little food when they got back.
“That’s it? You’re just going to nod and keep working?” Adam said. There was a hint of rage in his voice there, like a spider rearing its front legs.
“What can I say that will make you feel better?” Shiv asked.
“You could have been a bastard,” Adam whispered. “An actual piece of human trash. You could have done me the dignity of being a monster or a broken, miserable degenerate. You could have done any of these things…”
“No,” Shiv said, resolute. “Not who I am. Not what I want to be. I’m not going to break and be miserable because that would please you or the world. I fight for myself. I fight for the things I want. That’s the way I’m going to be. That way, and not some other thing.”
“Look at you,” Adam said, his face turning borderline nauseous. “Listen to you. You just say these things and mean them. Why? What possessed you to be this way despite what you are? Despite what they did to make you?”
The Deathless placed the snake flesh on the frying board. Needs a bit more Pyromancy. He channeled a rush of flames with a small spell, and soon the meat was crackling. “Because I want to. I told you before, Adam. I’m my own man. Are you yours?”
“Godsdamn you,” Adam spat. “Godsdamn you. Godsdamn your parents. And godsdamn me for… for…”
“Would it help if we just fought?” Shiv asked.
“No. Because there’s no winning there either.” To make his point, Adam walked forward and slammed a fist into Shiv’s back. He threw it as hard as he could. It shook the cave. Dust rained from the ceiling. A tent fell over.
Shiv responded by holding another pan over the food to keep out the dust and flipping over the slice of meat. “You should use your bow. You’re not a brawler.”
For a second, he thought Adam would hit him again for saying that, but the Young Lord just scoffed. “And how long will it take for me to deal true harm to you that way? And what’s to stop you from just coming back stronger? Every defeat makes you more. Every wound becomes your shield. Every weakness will eventually be your strength. But me? I just lose. I am Young Lord Adam Arrow. My father is a hero of the Republic. My mother was Rose Van Erren, Diviner of the Republic. And I… lose! I lose everything. I lose everyone. I lose and lose and lose and there is less of me every time.”
I shouldn’t have told him about the staff… Shiv turned away from the meat, not even caring if it burned. “Adam—”
“Do not!” Adam shouted—practically screamed. “Do! Not! Do not care for me! Do not console me! I wish—” His lip curled, and for a moment, Shiv was worried Adam might actually start crying. But Adam closed his eyes and breathed in. “I need to go out. I need to… to hunt… to be alone.”
He rushed back toward his tent and began gathering his equipment, snapping his armor in place at frantic speed. Shiv grimaced, and saw that Valor was looking at him. Worse, Uva and the other sisters were approaching too.
And the felling meat is burned and I’m still not done preparing, Shiv sighed.
“Don’t follow me,” Adam rasped as he rushed past Shiv. Shiv watched the Young Lord go, unsure what he was supposed to do. Adam flared his wings before even clearing the cave. Ikki asked him what was wrong, but he walked right past her, earning a flash of shock from the Young Umbral before he blasted off into the air, cracking the ground with the speed of his ascent. Uva looked at Shiv, and he could only shake his head.
“I’ll tell you about it later. I’ll try to get food done for now. Almost done. Almost.” Shiv noticed his own hand was shaking a bit, and he stilled it with a frown.
“This was needed.” Valor came to a hover beside Shiv.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Shiv said. “To be honest, he was kind of pissing me off by the end. I see why he’s the way that he is, but this isn’t my doing. And his feelings are his own responsibility.” Shiv paused. “You alright, Ikki?”
The Umbral blinked. “He must’ve been really mad, huh?” She rubbed her arm slightly. “What did you say to him?”
“I told him someone he cared about died. And some other problems came with that.” Shiv frowned. “A lot of problems.”
“So it seems,” Uva said, still staring at the cave entrance. “Perhaps I should request that someone keep watch over him.”
“Don’t think that’s necessary,” Shiv said. “Adam’s impulsive. But not an idiot. I don’t think he’s going to make a suicide run on the gate or even get himself noticed. His Awareness is too good for that.” He paused. “But we might want to pack and prepare to move. Whatever Adam does might just get someone to look around here.”
Ikki sighed. “But we just moved…”
“Sisters, break camp,” Uva said, her voice rehearsed. She looked at Shiv again, and sank her magic into his mind. “Are you alright?”
Shiv smiled slightly. “I’m always alright. Eventually.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Did he try to hurt you?”
“Why’s my tent knocked over?” Ikki complained off to the side.
“Not really,” Shiv said. “And that’s part of what pisses him off more, I think. We’ll see how he’s feeling later. Meanwhile… you’re looking very nice this morning. I think the bath in that pond did us some good.”
Uva rolled her eyes but failed to hold back a slight blush. “Shiv. Come now.”
He chuckled and went back to finishing breakfast. But though Shiv felt done with conversation for now, conversation was not done with him.
“I would have hated having someone like you in my life when I was his age,” Valor said. Shiv grunted. “I am being serious. You represent a shadow in many warriors’ hearts. Of a rival who stands stronger, tougher, ascends to power more quickly… yet gives very little reason why they should be hated. Pair this with the nature of your past, and the fragility you induce in him becomes torturous.”
“I guess,” Shiv said. Then, as he started flipping plates with cooked meat, he decided on anger. “Just one problem: Why should I care about that? My whole life, people hated me for what my parents did. For what I was. He hated me too. But like his dad, he just seethed and suffered my existence from a distance. Too noble to come strike me down, too passive to do anything, too miserable to let this go. So they prayed for the system to punish me.”
“Goodness is a moment, Shiv. A deed. Good can be used to describe someone’s character, but it is my experience that with enough pain and loss, even a good heart can be taught to choose something that debases them. That someone can learn the wrong lesson.”
“Fine. But it’s not my lesson to teach.”
“Correct. But it is something he can only learn from you.”
“Why should I care?”
“I cannot say,” Valor answered honestly. “You are… Deathless. Both in mind and body. What breaks and wounds and leaves another close to oblivion is only fuel for your heart. In some matters of spirit, I would call you an idealization of a warrior. But you have to understand that most struggle to even pretend, and the strong must give so much of themselves to achieve what you find so natural. For most, becoming one who reigns over the world, the system, and themselves is a battle, every day.”