Chapter 3

Resolve

  Long shadows danced with the quivering of a dim flame. Bastet’s mind was hazy but this sight, or lack thereof, was very familiar. He recognized the distant screams and the stench of decay that assaulted his nose. He tried moving, but his limbs were pinned with chains. A quiet laugh escaped his mouth. He was back in his cell. Or rather, did he ever really leave this place? It would not have been the first time his vivid dreams took it upon themselves to break him free. He felt an unstoppable urge to move, to immediately get out of this place. Something raw surged through him, and his muscles refused to keep still. His face flushed as he groaned, but despite yanking with all of his strength, the cold iron did not budge. He could not stand up. Bastet lowered his head feeling nauseous. He could taste the sweat on his lips that dripped down his brow.

-“Are you awake?” – Startled by the tired voice, Bastet quickly lifted his gaze. His lips curled into a smile, and an unexpected sense of relief washed over him when he recognized the man chained to the other wall. He was not alone. – “What happened, Kreil?”

-“We’re alive, aren’t we?” – Kreil stared into empty space – “That wouldn’t be the case if Stormbridge had fallen.”

-“I look up and see the sky’s on fire.” – Bastet said after a short pause – “Next thing I know, I’m here again. How long have you been awake?”

-“It’s hard to tell” – Kreil muttered under his breath – “probably a few hours.”

-“There’s no way they took us back to the torturer!” – Bastet reassured himself despite the shrieks he could hear in the distance – “That lunatic wouldn't have been so hospitable to leave nothing impaling us. This must be something else!”

-“Maybe he's busy. The screaming has only gotten louder since I've been awake.” – Kreil sighed.

-“That’s lasted for hours?” – Bastet’s eyes widened – “They’ve emptied the cells before the battle, and many of us died. So how is this place more crowded than it was?”

-“Hey!” – A loud male voice excitedly exclaimed – “we've got two more awake over here!” – He whistled, calling his colleague – “Are you done, Gerald?”

-“I’m coming, Reed!” – They heard another yell from the distance.

-“Here’s a question for you two~” – Reed bemusedly said as he approached – “How much do you think you’ll be able to endure before you beg us to make a contract?” – The iron door screeched when it opened, revealing a short fat man who was grinning from ear to ear. However, as soon as he saw them, Reed’s smile turned upside down – “Huh? Just look at ‘em, they’re skin and bones! There’s no way they’re Eskanel, they look fresh outta the cells! Didn’t we let a bunch of ‘em out for the battle? They’re obviously one of those!”

-“No cutting corners, Reed. Nillen would be quite unhappy if we don’t find out who took down the wall.”– Gerald shrugged – “I should still take a look at them. How many are left, anyway?”

-“About two hundred.” – Reed spit on the stone – “Managed to capture quite a lot of ‘em. Guess that’s what happens when three dukes fight together.”

-“That’s three fronts they had to pull armies from in order to rescue this shithole. That bitch Illias better be worth it.” – Gerald approached Bastet with light steps – “This one’s a big lad, I hope the chains hold him in place.” – Leaning over, he grabbed Bastet’s hair and pulled his head up. – “Don’t be afraid. I’ll only take a peek.” – The man looked delicate, but Bastet found it difficult to stare back into his eyes. Bastet closed his eyes in fear, but even so, he could still feel them staring deep into his soul. He felt something pour into him, and changing colors rapidly flashed beneath his eyelids. A familiar scene would unfurl, but before he could recognize it, his vista would melt and shift into a new scene that was just as familiar. He could not explain how he knew, but Bastet was certain that these were his memories that the Wesian was flipping through.

The changing lights finally decided on a form. The memory was recent, so Bastet easily remembered; He fell when he dodged the earth spike, fought the female Eskanelian with Kreil, and was saved by a short bald Wesian who pummeled her. Then they ran, hid, and killed the satyr.

The vision started fading along with the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. Bastet could hear his own loud gasping, and the sound of voices mixing, but he could not understand what they were saying. When he came to his senses, he was completely drenched in sweat.

-“He’s one of our own. He doesn’t know who the intruder was either. However,” – Gerald pursed his lips and whipped his hand across Bastet’s face. It stung. – “This is an order. Don’t ever let your superior die like that again!” – he turned to his colleague and frowned – "Their cowardice got an officer killed."

Reed chuckled to himself – “You’re wasting your breath. Don't you know that Valac is personally coming here to read the entire code of conduct? That'll cover everything, so it's not like they'll be able to misbehave again.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

-“I can’t help myself” – Gerald frowned while approaching Kreil – “It’s because of cowards like them that the code is as strict as it is!” – He grabbed Kreil’s forehead with his small hand, and Kreil’s body started shaking as he looked through his memories. Before long, Gerald stepped away with a bemused expression on his face. – “Fragmented. Blurry. He’s missing some memories; his mind is quite messy. He doesn’t know about the intruder, but he was, however, a citizen of Eskanel.”

-“Oh, an Eskanelian!” – Reed rubbed his hands expectantly.

-“He was from Eskanel." – Gerald emphasized – "His daughter was caught and recruited into the infantry not long ago. She is in Stormbridge, in fact.” – Reed raised his eyebrows – “He deserted and joined us instead, betting on the only future they could have together.”

-“Wish I could say you joined the winning side” – Reed laughed at him – “but we’ve been at a stalemate for a few years!”

-“That’s an interesting way to say you’re losing” – Kreil rebutted but Reed corrected him in a strict tone – “You mean that we are losing.”

Kreil seemed to want to say something, but Reed ordered him to stay quiet – “What should we do with them, Gerald? I wanna deal with the Eskanel instead~”

-“Just let them out, we’ve got a lot more to go through. They should still be celebrating outside, so if we hurry, we might even make it in time for the feast!”

***

As per Kreil's request, they reached the river that ran through the center of the town. Bastet remarked that he didn’t know how a river so wide could be flowing down a mountain, but Kreil explained that it was probably the work of the purple sun. Bastet took off the shoddy clothes that the Stormbridge guards gave him before the battle. He wore multiple shirts, but all of them were stained with blood and had holes in them, each shirt in a different location. Those were not from wounds inflicted to him during the battle; he received the clothes in such condition. Did someone really survive this large hole through the heart? Had he been wearing a shirt that someone died in? This thought made Bastet feel uneasy, so he immediately started washing it. Death, there was so much death around him. The priest of Briskwood preached that each man was irreplicable, and that once they passed away there would be a hole in the world that cannot be filled. As such, death was a tragedy, something to be mourned. But what is a satyr, deep down in its core? Was it a someone, or a something? Bastet shivered. It would be so convenient if he could just call it a monster. But each time he convinced himself that was the case, his mind would circle back and ask the question anew. The silence was only broken by the burbling of water and Kreil’s splashing while he scrubbed himself clean.

Bastet rested his head on the grass, lying in the shade of a large birch tree. He worried about the order that he was given: he must not let a higher ranked Wesian die while doing nothing to prevent it. If he had jumped out earlier during the fight with the satyr, he might have surprised him and given the Wesian an advantage, but he would have certainly lost his life in doing so. Unlike the order to act in the best interest of Wesia, this order was unambiguous; no interpretation could fail to assess it. As long as he understood that his superior was in trouble, he would have to help. Reed said that tomorrow he would learn the code of conduct, which would bind his will even further. If this involved more orders that were as clear as the last one, then he would have no choice but to always obey.

Bastet deeply sighed. As things were going, he would have to give his life up the next time Wesia demanded it. Did he endure all of this torture and humiliation just for that? To die without being able to change anything? He had a duty to be worth more, a duty towards his late father and sister. They would be brought back to life only if the war was won, and he would not be able to help ensure that it is won if he remained a mere sacrificial pawn. If this code of conduct would rope him into absolute obedience, he had to avoid it. He had to escape from here before these new orders were given, or he would forever remain under threat of being sacrificed for the most trivial of causes.

Bastet lifted his gaze and glanced at Kreil, who was sunk in the river up to his nose. Kreil was old, and reckless fools rarely lived past their youth. After looking at his memories, Gerald said that Kreil deserted Eskanel in order to be with his daughter. He willingly subjected himself to the torture. But would someone who makes such a choice to be with their daughter really just leave her to the painful fate of being turned into a monster in the infantry? Furthermore, Kreil believed that Wesia was losing the war, or at least that’s what he said to Reed. So, there would be no merit in simply dying on the same side as her and waiting for resurrection. If he was no fool, why did he come here? And could the reason be a part of the memories he was missing?

Bastet scratched his head. He wanted to do so, but he could not recklessly mention that he wanted to escape. If he did, Ariadne’s curse might force Kreil to report him. Besides, Bastet was bound by the curse too, he could only act in the best interest of Wesia. Would the curse even allow him to try to escape? He could not swim, but he decided to get in the water to clear his head. He was not the kind of man to bathe very often; he believed getting wet would cause him to get sick. Smelling the nicest was not his top priority when he spent his life working with cow shit. The river was cold, and sharp stones cut into his soles.

Yes, he could only act in the best interest of Wesia, but whether him escaping was in their best interest was still undecidable. If he managed to escape, it would prove he was worth more than a sacrificial pawn, so it would be in the best interest of Wesia that he doesn’t get used as one. If he managed to escape, then he would prove that he was capable of acting on his own. If he could escape, then he deserved to escape. And if he failed, then that would mean that he was unable to properly utilize his current amount of freedom, and that he did not deserve to keep it. The merit of him escaping could be assessed only in light of the success of his attempt to do so, so since the best interest of Wesia was still undecidable, there was nothing for Ariadne's curse to compel him towards. At least it shouldn’t interfere with the attempt, he hoped. Technically speaking, no one ordered them to stay in the city, but if he approached the heavily guarded gates he would probably be told to stay away. If only…

-"Hurry up." – Kreil interrupted his thoughts. Bastet did not notice how long he stayed in the river, the tips of his fingers were shriveled up – "Let’s not miss the feast!"