Solitaire POV: Day 52

Current Wealth: 1 silver 47 copper

Apparently I’d been concussed. I didn’t need telling, I’d been concussed before, but it was nice to have confirmation at least. Were I a normal person, who didn’t have the cognisance to connect a splitting headache with hours of unremembered consciousness into a bridge leading me onto the obvious conclusion, I might’ve actually benefited from the knowledge. As things were, I’m afraid all it did was give the Vittonian woman an excuse to show off.

It was all I could do not to call her a cunt. Even in my adled state, I remembered hers as one of the particularly pro-suicide faces from our first arrival. Would anybody notice if I headbutted her?

A rhetorical question, of course, randomly slamming my skull into her face was completely unthinkable. That would only worsen my headache even more. Instead I just groaned, told her to leave me alone, and lay in my shitty, improvised hammock waiting for my vision to clear up.

Xangô was with me before it did, kneeling down and eying me, concerned. I responded to that in much the same way I’d always learned to from my dear mother.

“Fuck off.” I spat. He seemed relieved, not annoyed, which told me that he’d only come over to see how lucid I was. Must’ve been hit harder than I thought, because I could smell the daylight in the air.

“How are you?” Xangô’s voice was cold as the grave, and as severe as something my brain was in no fit state to think of after being used in a game of cranial pinball. I resisted the temptation to answer with another groan, forcing myself into as much articulation and clarity as I could manage.

“Doing better.” I replied. “Obviously. I’ll be okay in a few days, not the first hit to the head I’ve taken.”

I did wonder, sometimes, whether I’d be less paranoid if I hadn’t spent so long collecting head injuries. Perhaps I’d just be even smarter. Now that was a disturbing thought.

I blinked. Maybe a lot smarter, my head was still ringing, my thoughts were…Not slow. Scattered, bouncing everywhere so irregularly that even their usual speed was rendered pointless by the sheer chaos of it all. Shrapnel inside a tank.

“We won, then?” I asked, eying Xangô, silently daring him to reply in the negative. He didn’t.

“We won.” My friend confirmed. “And…Things are complicated.” He winced, sighed, continued. “The villagers are gathering up, discussing things, they…I think they suspect we’re going to leave soon, even though the vampire’s still unaccounted for.”

And Xangô shouldn’t have cared what they thought, particularly when he could simply assure them otherwise like he always did. Which meant…

“So we are going.” I noted, not feeling any particular spasm of conscience at the thought. I saw much the opposite on Xangô’s face, his features churning with self-doubt and guilt.

“We have to. And we have no reason not to. We stayed, we fought…We almost died. All of us have grown stronger now, even stronger than before after last night, and…We need our money.”

His tone, upon saying the last of it, told me what this was really about. I made my way across the room to confirm, glancing out the window, eying the ragged buildings and splintered wood. How much of the village’s timber stockpiles were now nailed against doorways and floors as barricades?

“They need the money.” I observed, pointlessly. “All the money they can get. So you’re feeling torn about asking for what was agreed on as our payment.”

I didn’t need to turn back around to see Xangô’s face, I could hear it in his voice. Vocal chords constricting so sharply that it made my retinas twitch.

“Aren’t you?” He asked. I considered the question. Was I?

Not really, no. I’d be lying if I said I hated these people, I really didn’t. Perhaps I might have if I’d asked them about any of the things that modern people took for granted, women’s rights, the immorality of randomly lynching foreigners during a drought, etc. But so far…None of them had actually done anything to draw my ire. They’d been pleasant, accommodating, even, after the first night.

What motivated me was pragmatics, pure and simple. We needed the money, and we’d do more good with it than them. So we should have it.

I was aware it was the very sort of justification most bad people told themselves, as was the counter of it being fine for me due to my knowing I was right. That’s the issue with empathy, I suppose. It makes it all too apparent that everyone else thinks they’re the hero too.

So, in the end, it came down to whose judgement I trusted most. And that was mine. It would always be me, Leonardo Davinci could’ve risen from the dead and it’d still be me.

I answered.

“It’s not a matter of how I’m feeling.” I told Xangô. “My feelings, your feelings, are too small to bother considering here. We’re individuals, we can help lots more individuals. If your guilt stops you from doing that then it needs to be ignored.”

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My friend stiffened, and I saw him considering the matter. Xangô had always been excellent at reigning in his emotions, it was something he took no small amount of pride in. And it meant that there were few better ways to manipulate him than by framing a matter into the stark terms of impulse vs cognition.

Still, I wasn’t sure this was a pill he’d swallow. He took his time in considering the matter.

“There’s a reputation to be gained by not asking for much.” Xangô countered, irritatingly correct. “If we want to make a splash in this world, it won’t hurt to be known as good people. Heroes even.”

It was a point scored, and I acknowledged it.

“We do still need more than a little, though, I want proper gear, more recruits. Argar on his own is good, but he’s not a company, let alone an army.”

Xangô grinned at that. The annoying, bright grin of him knowing something I didn’t .

“What am I missing?” I sighed, and he launched into his explanation with a relish I very much doubted he’d have managed to hide, even if he’d wanted to.

“The Vittonian woman, Helena, remember her?”

I did, cloudy as my wits still were.

“The cunt, what of her?”

Xangô breezed past the words chirpily.

“She wants to join up.”

That did surprise me, and I considered why it might be. Then decided I didn’t care.

“So that’s two, then. Still not ideal.”

“Two who are both, apparently, over level 10. It’s a start. No matter what kind of payout we get, we’ll be leaving here with two new subordinates, both of which could give Beam a run for his money. Don’t tell me you don’t see that as enough of a win..”

It was hard not to, even I had to admit. But complacency got people killed, and I hadn’t spent years avoiding chemical-laced tap water just to behave like government cattle anyway.

“It could be more of a win.” I noted. Xangô eyed me, seriously.

“These people need hope, Solitaire. They need someone to give it to them, and someone they can think will make it realistic. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me we shouldn’t be those people.”

I couldn’t, and didn’t. Redaclans were animals, ape people, morons, savage creatures. The only way they could be expected to be moral- the only way humans, period, could be expected to be moral- was if something forced their hand. I swallowed, and nodded.

“Alright then.”

Xangô sighed in relief, and I guessed the exhalation was venting out about half a dozen more pre-prepared arguments. He turned, heading for the door. “Beam is outside, training a few of the villagers one last time in case the vampire comes back. I…Think there’s a good chance some of them will accompany us and join up, too. Ideally you can go and persuade them to do so?”

“Consider it done.” I agreed, heading off for just that task.

Beam wasn’t so much as training them, as it happened, more playing with his new sword. Apparently the vampire hadn’t come back for his rapier, because it now sat in my friend’s hand, whipping around fast enough to look like a streak of sunlight, smacking clubs and spears aside. Beam’s movements were patently ridiculous, now, and it was only upon seeing them that I realised we’d gained a new pile of experience. I turned my mind inwards, feeling for a new power in my core. It was there, just as I’d thought.

Strength, I decided, would be my best choice. I wanted my future sucker-punches to count more. Next time I’d pick Toughness. It’d been a mistake to leave my spread so concentrated, and the more actual fights we got in, the more I realised it. Treating every conflict as something to run away from was just inviting defeat. It was risky to prepare for battle, but with luck it’d be rewarding enough to compensate.

A cudgel was slapped out of a weak grip, and Beam shouldered the former wielder. It was a big man, almost as big as Xangô, but weight didn’t do much to keep his feet on the ground. He landed easily a yard back.

Strong, even for Beam. It was actually sort of scary how powerful he’d gotten. Sure, maybe tossing men around like that wasn’t much compared to your average comic book character, but it hit different to see demonstrated in person. It actually made me excited to grow stronger, not just for the security, but…To see what we could do next.

“Having fun?” I called out, grinning as Beam glanced my way, and left an opening for a small man with a club. The swing came fast, but he somehow evaded anyway, twisting aside at the last moment and replying with a shove. A groan came out from his victim as the man landed and rolled, glaring up at Beam for an instant, then sighing.

“It’s no use.” He groaned. “We can’t beat you, m’lord.”

Every cell in my body, upon hearing the aristocratic honorific, urged me to not only correct the man, but follow through by beheading the nearest king and seizing his city’s means of production. I resisted the urge, forcing myself instead to consider the term through a purely utilitarian lens.

As much as I hated to admit it, nobility might be the best way for us to actually get shit done in this land. Actually earning ourselves a title in truth, on the other hand, was a different matter altogether.

I spoke before Beam could correct the man’s mistake.

“Xangô sent me.” I cut in. “We’ll be setting off soon, so…” I eyed the group, making a show of pity. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to train this lot for much longer.”

Disappointment flashed across a dozen faces, but resignation was tightly woven within it.

“We understand.” One of the men sighed. Did he? Fuck, he did. Oddly conscientious.

I forced my surprise to remain hidden, plastering a grave look across my face.

“I wish we could do more, really, but…There are other people who need our help, other fights that need winning. I’m sorry.”

Sometimes subtlety backfired, particularly with the incredibly stupid. If you dropped a hint so insubstantial and easily missed that it went entirely unnoticed even by its intended recipient, then it wasn’t much good for anything. This one found its mark, though.

I saw the gears turning behind men’s eyes, and just as I started walking away, I caught the sound of questioning on the air.

“Lord Beam, uh, forgive my asking, but…We’ve heard you recruited Helena…”

A smile found my features. Altruism did have its rewards, particularly when you were nice and obvious about it.