Chapter 8 : Round Two Part 1

Lord Tom was dealing with the aftermath of the assault on his town. The most frustrating part was the panicked melee that had started at the gate had broken up quickly, not due to his guardsmen defeating the enemy, but because the bad-girs had scattered into the town as soon as the men had paired off against them. A few had been cut down as they fled into the town, but not all.

What followed was an exercise in futility as his men had scrambled after the fleeing bad-girs. Lord Tom had ordered a few each to reinforce the shelters, left a squad at the gates, and sent the rest to pursue. The count of how many had made it past his men was unknown. So now they were being forced to pursue them through the town and root them out shop by shop. The beasts didn’t seem to be interested in the homes as much.

He would be much more frantic if his citizens weren’t already moved to the shelters. Now he was bemused as the lack of a coherent, concentrated enemy at the gates threw his guard into disarray and jackassery. A panicked frenzy at an enemy’s imminent arrival had devolved into mopping up the nonsense of a seriously mild threat.

He stood at the side of the market square, watching the latest travesty unfold. One of his younger guardsmen chased a beast around the fountain in the center of town with his pike.

It was only moving slightly faster than the guardsmen. The bad-gir had gotten into the tailoring shop for some reason and escaped the guards who followed it in. It had escaped by jumping out the second-floor window with a dress that had tangled around itself.

The guardsmen had rushed back downstairs and out the shop door to see it scurrying towards the main square, dressed now in its Tuesday best.

The other guardsmen had looked at the fleeing beast, turned to the youngest member, and pointed to the beast. The youngest guard’s shoulders had sagged, but he had started to trot after the bad-gir with a gimlet glare in his eye and a tight grip on his pike.

His fellows chuckled at the sight and then hurried off to help another squad with a group of the beasts who had wandered toward the butcher shop down the street. Unfortunately, it was attracting the more significant portion of the creatures who had gotten by the guards.

Lowry stood beside his lord, observing the scene as the younger guardsmen panted after the bad-gir. The snarling beast in a floral pattern sundress barely avoided the frantic stabs of the young man who appeared to be about to burst into tears. His hard-eyed glare had not lasted long.

“Lowry?”

Asked Lord Tom.

“Yes, My lord?”

“After this is over, give that man a bonus for a morale boost, but we should make sure he doesn’t ruin that dress, or Mistress Milligan will turn his skin into a parasol if she can convince the Tanner family to help.”

Lowry slowly nodded at his lord’s words before replying,

“Just the private’s skin or the beast’s too?”

Lord Tom thought a moment and said,

“If we’re quick, just the beast. Head it off on the next circuit. I’ll help our frantic young private keep it moving.”

Lowry nodded and moved into the path the bad-gir would pass through as Lord Tom quickly caught up to the private. Lord Tomelein, Red Adder County’s protector, was now chasing the bad-gir in its battledress with the youngest member of his guard.

Lowry readied his weapon as the pair chased the surly, dressed-to-kill, bad-gir mother biter around the fountain one final time. He lifted the pike he had retrieved during the chase from the gate as the Bad-gir scurried around the corner of the fountain a final time.

Its eyes widened at seeing someone in front of it, and it let out a startled yelp as Lowry brought the point down sharply just behind its head. A thudding squelch issued from the weapon’s tip as the beast was suddenly stopped. The creature released a gasping screech of pain and scrabbled feebly at the ground with its claws.

The private came to a panting halt with Lord Tom beside him. All three men looked down at the dying animal, and Lord Tom said,

“Alright, private, you’re hazing isn’t over yet. Get that dress off the animal, return it safely to the seamstress’s shop, and move on to the next problem area.”

The still gasping private responded,

“Where is that?”

An angry Lowry snapped,

“You will use the address “My Lord,” private! We will also be doing remedial physical training after this since that light jog has you making love to the sky with your disrespectful mouth!”

Lord Tom smiled at the colorful words that caused the private’s heavy breathing to feel more frantic. Then responded to the question,

“A squad followed several of them towards the inn. Try there first. If not, the butcher’s shop seems to be drawing them. Captain Lowry and I will be heading there next.”

The private hastily saluted at his irate Captain, then Lord Tom, and bent quickly to undress his formerly elusive foe.

Captain Lowry shook his head as he and lord Tom headed away from the market square,

“Apologies, my lord. Private Johansen was brought in from Purpolis recently, and he is still learning the ropes. That place is a little silly, and it rubs off on them quickly.”

Lord Tom frowned and asked,

“Brought in? A transfer, then? Who did he piss off to get transferred out here?”

As the pair approached the butcher’s shop, a group of soldiers was yelling inside something about saving the sausages. The gaggle-fuck of soldiers was making no headway as they all tried to crowd in at once.

The Captain sighed in exasperation at his men’s efforts before replying,

“Not sure, my lord. It’s usually a mark in their favor if a bureaucrat sends them, though. I’ll double-check the orders after this.”

Finished answering his lord’s query, Lowry started yelling at his men,

“Alright, you lot, that’s enough! Two of you go around back and cover that exit. The rest of you, do we need to do this by the numbers, or can we pretend you learned how to breach a house in basic after you learned how to wash those filthy dicks?!”

At the Captain’s tirade, the men sorted themselves out. The shoving match at the door was curtailed, and the butcher shop was entered in a military manner. Their weapons were up, grit was found, and more boldness than nerves showed.

Lord Tom patiently waited outside, weapon ready, with the captain as loud crashing and yelling sounded from within the shop. The small display window in front filled with hanging meats was now also sporting a bad-gir snarling and snapping at something inside. As the pair observed this new development of a pissed-off meat terrarium, the animal became tangled in a length of sausages on display.

A meat cleaver suddenly smashed through the window. Jumping to the side of the flying weapon whizzing through where his head had been, Captain Lowry screamed,

“Gods damn it! Friendly fire! You slag-hided wretches!”

As the glass from the window fell to the ground with the freed bad-gir, who now sported a meat scarf, a contrite yell came from the shop amongst more crashing sounds,

“Sorry, Cap’n!”

A second, more sorrowful chorus of angry voices came behind the apologetic yell,

“The sausages!”

The bad-gir was flopping around, trying to regain its feet, when Lord Tom stepped forward and brought his large family sword down in a decisive stroke. The Bad-Gir let out one last high-pitched bark of pain that trailed off as the steel halved its body.

After that excitement, there were a few more minutes of violent noise emitting from within. Then the soldiers started hauling carcasses out the front door while partaking in a soldier’s favorite activity, complaining.

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Most had a few scratches or tears in their pants that were bleeding lightly. One soldier was cradling the blade of his sword in the crook of an elbow as he attempted to keep pressure on a vicious bite wound to his forearm with his other hand.

The Captain started yelling immediately,

“Rawlins! What in great Odin’s wrinkled, left testicle are you doing? Drop that sword before you commit suicide by stupidity! Johnson! Help him dress that wound!”

The Captain kept yelling at his men to deal with the wounds and the animal carcasses while Lord Tom glanced at the sky with a wary eye and murmured,

“He didn’t mean it.”

No godly spears fell from the clouds to strike the swearing Captain down. So, Lord Tom cleaned off his blade and continued observing the scene.

Little did he know the extra cranky god being sworn by had a fondness for military-minded folk, particularly the tough love officers showed. However, that same god was less fond of military inefficiency. What worked wouldn’t be punished.

Captain Lowry was warming up to his topic when, from down the street, a rider was galloping towards the group. He didn’t let this stop his tirade.

Lord Tom stepped toward the arriving messenger.

“What news?”

Ivan slowed his horse to a walk, then stopped. The horse was blowing and snorting at the scent of the predator carcasses being piled nearby. He grasped the reigns tightly to control his horse when it would shy at the scent.

“Ten more vermin have been killed near the other shops throughout town. They seem to be focused on vittles but not the shelters. Very few homes have been disturbed outside of some pantries needing to be restocked as far as we can tell, my lord.”

“We are scattered across all four boroughs. The men you sent to the shelters have stationed themselves as you ordered. Our losses so far are twelve casualties, with three dead.”

Glancing at the soldiers still pulling carcasses out of the butcher’s shop, the soldier with the wounded arm was sighted by the Luciloo. He nodded at the wounded man nursing the wounded arm.

The poor man and his companions attempting to help him had their education continued by Captain Lowry on why their mothers should never have put that lovely dress on for their fathers. The messenger diplomatically ignored the haranguing. Adding the wounded man to the toll, he amended his statement,

“Thirteen casualties, my lord.”

Lord Tom’s reply to the news was curt. The color of his face darkened to accompany it as an angry sunset,

“Dennis’s dusty, dried-out nut sack!”

It was his Captain’s turn to pause in his tirade and glance around at the invocation of a dangerous god. Fortunately, nothing happened, so the Captain returned to swearing at his guards.

They needed to finish straightening the shop they had assaulted in defense of breakfast meats. Unbeknownst to any currently in the area, a forceful mark was placed in a ledger by a menacing hand to ensure a reckoning was made possible later. One shouldn’t anger the patron of destructive acts lightly, after all.

“Three? Blasted damn bad-girs! We had enough to worry about with the mobs out by the farms, and now this!”

Lord Tom was distracted as he spotted the scribe from earlier at the corner of the butcher’s shop. He was set up a few feet behind his messenger at another small, portable desk.

Lord Tom, already in a foul mood at the death toll, shouted,

“And why is that damn scribe here?”

Lord Tom’s shout convinced a pigeon roosting on a nearby window sill to do a suicide flight away from the loud noise, flying directly past the lord’s face and almost braining him.

As Lord Tom gestured behind Ivan at the scribe, he abruptly jerked his head to the side with a curse to avoid the pigeon. The Luciloo glanced behind himself to see an empty street.

He carefully looked about as he turned his horse to get a good view of the surrounding buildings and this supposed scribe. He hesitated to respond as he voiced his reply to his twitchy Lord,

“Scribe? M’lord?”

Lord Tom returned his gaze to where the scribe sat… on the empty street. He muttered to himself and shook his head.

Replying to the question, Lord Tom said,

“Never mind. Any update from Temlin?”

The ranger continued giving his Lord an odd look but responded,

“He’s swinging back through the southern boroughs now, my lord.”

Tom replied,

“He’ll be reporting back shortly then. We should watch for those Gil'dies returning since they would be coming from that direction. Most of the excitement should be handled before they return, but gods know we wouldn’t turn down their help wrapping this up. Captain Lowry?”

The captain had sorted out the damaged shop as well as could be done right now. Sending a man to the rear of the butcher’s to retrieve his last two men, they had arrived,

The guard was forming up again. Most of them looked disgruntled at the chewing out that they had received. Lord Tom noted that sour looks or not, the men’s wounds had been dressed. The bodies of the vermin had been rounded up outside the shop, and the men were ready for the following orders.

“Excellent, Captain. Let’s get this borough cleared completely and move on to the next. We’ll sweep along the compass points and ensure we don’t miss any.”

“Ivan, keep being my Luciloo. Once the town is clear, send to the shelter for farmer Jenkins. Move out.”

The captain gave a sharp salute and shouted orders to his men, directing them into teams of four and using these small teams to quarter up the boroughs. With Ivan as a scout, this ensured minimizing further injuries as they cleared the town, house by house, shop by shop.

With only a few hundred residents throughout the county, it didn’t take them more than a few more hours to clear the more densely packed boroughs. The outlying farms took up a more significant portion of that time.

Lord Tom understood that these things took time and was still angry about it as he dwelt on recent events,

‘It’s reality, doesn’t mean it’s needed to be enjoyed. Gods damn, why does it all seem to go wrong at the same time.’

He was sitting outside his manor house hours later. He was partaking of a light repast his head maid had prepared for himself and Captain Lowry.

After the shelters had been given the all-clear to release his citizens, Marie had wasted no time returning to the estate to care for her lord’s needs.

Joclyn was surveying damages to the town. Elokwa and Bagear were busy making the rounds to his guard and tending to the various bites, scratches, and bruises.

Craser and Prisca were continuing to save the life of the man Temlin had brought in before the attack had left his town in a scramble to man the defenses. None of the injuries sustained during the attack had been as severe.

After delivering the late afternoon repast to her Lord, Maria returned to the manor house to tend to the rest of her duties. Captain Lowry and Lord Tom were seated at a camp table near the gates to his manor home.

Lord Tom didn’t want to be cooped up like an anxious weasel-chicken, so he had ordered his camp tent and table to be out of the sun and available to his people. Crisis management was thirsty work, so a pitcher of chilled cider sat on the table between them.

Lowry was reviewing the damaged soldiers and equipment tally with Lord Tom, and both seemed in a sour mood. Finally, Joclyn came trotting up with a ledger under one arm and farmer Jenkins at his side.

Jenkins was limping slightly behind the clerk, who seemed to be put out for having to escort an ordinary farmer and what he had discovered of the town’s damages. The clerk’s lips were twisted into a grimace as he bowed before his lord.

Lord Tom observed the lemon-mouthed man and sighed heavily,

“That good?”

The clerk replied in a strained neutral tone, with the farmer looking at him with distaste,

“It could have been worse, my lord. The damages come to an estimated four hundred and thirty-seven coppers, or forty-three silver and seven coppers.”

“This includes an estimate for similar repair work contracted in the past through the town carpenter with the cooper assisting. The bulk of the expenses come from the glazier we will have to send for broken windows and the stipends given to the families of our fallen guard.”

Joclyn’s tone soured further in audible distaste.

“Those stipends will come to another thirty silver, with thirty-nine additional silver, every year, for the next five years.”

Captain Lowry’s face darkened noticeably at that last bit thrown in. He tensed and then started to move out of his seat. Jenkins took two slow, limping steps away from the clerk’s side.

Lord Tom responded before the Captain could do inappropriate things to his castellan with something sharp,

“Our budget already covers those stipends. We will find room for the rest. The cooper and carpenter have done work for tax credits in the past. In light of recent events, they’ll see the need. So our fine folk can do without the windows for now.”

Joclyn nodded at his lord’s words, oblivious to the captain easing his dagger back into the sheathe at his waste.

Jenkins spoke up in support of his lord’s words,

“Aye, M’lord. Bethany and Johnson will be happy to help out. I don’t know whose windows were broke, but I’m sure Bethany can make up some fine shutters. Mistress Milligan would be the only one who might pitch a fit, and the rest of us small folk can set her straight.”

Lord Tom kept his expression blank. His breath was calm. He needed to stay that way for his people. His Castellan would need talking to later.

‘We can’t replace Joclyn this early into his service. But, gods damn the man for his lack of tact. First that debacle with Healer Elokwa, now he’s butting heads with Lowry over something this obvious.’

The guard captain was still glowering at the smaller man, so he was the first to spot the bedraggled sight over the castellan’s shoulder. The AG party trooped down the town center street towards the manor.

They had seen action. The party of three dragged two blanket-covered litters behind them. Lord Tom observed the sight and muttered,

“Hadn’t there been four?”

The leather-coated dark-haired man was complaining to the dwarf as they tramped towards the manor house.