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Chapter 51: Home is Never True to Memory

The tracking parties all returned to the complex with similar tales. There was no sign of where the workers and overseers had been taken.

After a day of scouring the forest and fields with his team, finding nothing, Ren was called into the command tent where the commander waited for him behind a portable table that doubled as a desk. “At ease, forester. Your paperwork says you were issued a cultivation license and a formation activation training kit.”

“Yes sir.”

“Have you been training?”

“I have sir.” He’d learned that by limiting the flow of Qi in the script and keeping it at the minimum effective flow rate he could stretch out the use of the light scripts before the formation's power was used up and they burned away.

“Great.” The commander’s face warmed with a smile. “Right now I’m the only one in the unit who is trained with them, and I don’t like the idea of operating without redundancy.” He held up a large script painted on a sheet about the size of a letter, then flipped the paper to reveal neat handwriting filling the back. “This is my report. For urgent communication we use these formations. They are linked to corresponding scripts at Command back in Rattan. I want you to activate this one so you have practice.”

“Yes sir.” Ren took the formation from the commander and, at a gesture from the man, took a seat. He studied the pattern and flow of the markings then pushed Qi in. He put all his focus into the task and soon enough the script glowed slightly before the paper disintegrated in his hands.

“Very good! I didn’t figure you were this handy with scripts. We also have some formations with battle applications. There may come a time when I need you to handle activation while I fight. Can I count on you?”

“Of course, sir.”

“I’ll give you some formations from my personal stock. Make sure to study them.”

They then ran through the function of each and a sign or phrase that Commander Narwalla would use if he wanted Ren to prep any given formation. Each of the officers would be briefed about this contingency as well so they could coordinate in case of surprise conflict.

While the vote of faith from his commander was encouraging, he couldn’t help but be troubled by the idea that the man was worried enough to be making such plans.

***

It only took two days before they received orders and continued their patrol.

Weeks passed and Ren found his tension didn’t fade. At the next full moon, though he rose to sneak out with his flute, a lone howl gripped his heart with fear and sent him scurrying back to the tent. Most nights he spent all but a few hours staring at the canvas roof, his body stuck in high alert, every skitter and croak and hoot a threat from the dark unknown and the very real evil that he couldn’t unsee. A fear that poisoned his dreams.

It was the end of summer when new orders came to Cloud Company 7. “Clouders!” The commander’s voice rang out over the gathered company. “As we know, the conflict on the border is escalating. The stakes are dire for Ardus. If we do not break through and regain our access to the Spice Road, the Republic’s food stores will be exhausted by the coming of next spring. Ever since we, as a nation, allied ourselves to the wise and holy teachings of Isvara, we have been harassed and persecuted by our neighbors. Now it is not just our faith on the line, but our survival. I will not see my fellow countrymen starve. Will you?”

“No!” A unified response. Even the cooks were fired up.

“Our job here securing the roads, transporting food and supplies, is no less important. We are the inner guardians of Ardus. We protect her fields and her sons and her daughters so that when the heroes at the border return from their victory, they will not find a hollowed out ruin. In the last month, three shipments of ore to the foundries of the Golden Fang Trading Company have been lost in transit. On top of that, their last two shipments of arms to the battlefront have gone missing. We cannot let this stand. We will hunt down the cowards. Any bandit who dares to poison our country from within shall taste our steel!”

A thunderous roar erupted from the men.

“We will be visiting company executives in Katarn to coordinate. Prepare to march.”

***

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Ren didn’t know how to feel as the earthen walls of the city came into view. He’d been gone for the better part of a year. Was this supposed to feel like a homecoming?

The city watch welcomed them at the southern gate with salutes, though the cheering crowds of his dreams were notably absent on their march up Copper River Ave.

It took him several minutes to realize why something felt off. Where were the bustling traders? The buskers and their songs? The sizzle and scent of food carts? Even the colorful fabrics that spanned from one light post to the next were faded and torn.

The few who scurried by on the side of the road bore hollow-cheeks and weary-eyes. The only music or laughter they encountered came from brothels and dancing houses tucked in side streets that held finely painted carriages.

As they drew farther north, closer to the river, a north-westerly breeze carried chill air from the lake and falling ash from the pillar of smoke above the foundry.

Katarn was a much greyer place than he remembered.

Once the company and their carts and mules were settled at the garrison, their leaders set off, tasking the soldiers to resupply from the warehouse.

Gunney approached him as he was taking inventory of the forester supplies. “Ren, you’re from here right? We don’t need you if you want to take a few hours to check on your family. If you don’t now, you probably won’t have a chance before we leave. The rest of our stay will be taken up drilling and coordinating for the commander’s plan.”

Ren thanked his friend and departed. A familiar face was waiting for him just outside the military compound.

“Norn?!” Before he could think he was running and scooping her up in a big hug that lifted her feet from the ground. He’d never quite realized how small she actually was. Somehow, the young woman had always felt taller than him when they’d worked together at the inn.

Ren realized what he was doing and put her back down, wincing in preparation for the incoming onslaught.

“It seems your time away has made you a bit more of a man. I didn’t think anything could do that.” Her lips pursed, but her eyes were shining with mirth. More softly, she said, “I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

He returned her smile. “You too. How’s Garam? Do you want to come with me to visit my family? How’s guard training? It’s so good to see-”

“Okay, slow down. Garam is… well I’m sure he’d love to see you if you have time. I’m actually on my lunch break and have to get back to training. I’m glad I caught you. Give your family my regards, I haven’t been able to check on them in a while with my new schedule.”

Ren threw his arms around her again and squeezed until she tapped out and headed off.

Worry grew in his heart as he made his way to the Osirus Clan headquarters. It seemed half the people he saw were beggars, and more shops were boarded up than not. His family was out when he went by the carriage house. Of course they would be. He decided to check in at the manor.

He was let in surprisingly fast.

“It’s actually good that you’ve come,” said the Patriarch. “I was about to have a letter drawn up, but this will save time.”

“Is something the matter? If there is an issue with the payments I can talk to my commanding officer about working it out.”

“No, nothing like that. We’ve gotten your payments just fine.” The man smiled coolly. “Surely you’ve noticed the state of Katarn? It’s like this across the Republic. Food prices are only rising the longer we fail to establish trade routes. I’ve heard the council has contracted more farming compounds to be constructed, but we all know there is a shortage of farmable land in the Ardus River Valley. And beyond that, the military is stretched too thin to ensure the safety of all the farm workers and the intact delivery of all food shipments. They can’t even protect weapons shipments from what I hear.”

Ren nodded. This wasn’t going anywhere good.

“We can’t keep feeding your family on the stipend you’ve been paying. I need to up the cost. Even then…” For the first time the man’s smile dropped and he looked quite haggard. “Everyone south of the river is on strict rations. From what I can tell, cutting your family’s supply could be disastrous to your father’s health.”

“How much?” asked Ren. “How much do I need to pay?” He failed to keep the anger from his voice.

“Ten dham per day should cover their food and interest. Mind you, it is only that low because your father is finally able to work for us again. If you want someone to blame, take a walk north of the river.”

All his income and he wouldn’t even be paying down the debt, just making sure it didn’t grow?

The rest of the conversation was a blur. Ren signed some forms before heading out. His legs carried him, unbidden, back to their old home. Construction had finished, but the boards on the windows told him there were no new tenants in the shop or apartment above. He was too afraid to visit Sitara and didn’t think he could bear to see a crippled Garam so he walked north to one of the many bridges linking upper Katarn to lower.

The City Watch blocked the bridge, their armor shining in insult to the grime and destitution they held back. Seeing his uniform, they waved him through.

It was surreal. A year past, he’d been an outcast even in lowtown, now he was welcomed into uptown while the rest were forced to endure their squalor where the wealthy wouldn’t have to see it.

His guts churned as he walked through the immaculate streets. Not a stone out of place. Metal pipes that drew water from the river to every building. Untarnished silks of every shade and careless laughter.

He’d had enough. If he stayed any longer he would puke on their perfect flagstone streets.

If only he had money to spare for a drink.

But soon enough they’d be leaving and he could pretend he hadn’t seen any of this. Pretend what he was doing mattered. Pretend he could make a difference. It was a comfortable lie, at least.