Despite the apologetic look on Addison’s face, Dante didn’t budge. He continued to stare her down. “I don’t believe you.”
His voice had come out harsher than intended, something that was apparent when Addison flinched. “I’m sorry. We didn’t recruit any trivial Classifications, only those that also had a combat Classification were taken.”
Dante looked at the vast number of people who were streaming around them, they were moving around the camp, carrying out their specific tasks. “You’re telling me, that in this entire army, the only person with a Classification that aids in cooking was a Warrior that was initially in my unit?” The Warrior they crippled.
Addison averted her gaze, a trace of guilt could be seen in her eyes. “There are two others, but they are currently being held and awaiting punishment.”
Dante forcibly restrained his temper, something that was becoming increasingly difficult as the days went on. “For what?”
Addison glanced at Victoria, looking for help, but Victoria just looked like she was bored. “They were caught deserting.”
His bloodshot eyes narrowed. After the fighting started, almost a hundred people tried to run away at the same time, but all of them had been caught. “Bring the one with the highest level in his Classification to me. That person will be joining my unit.”
Addison hesitated. “But-”
“Go.” Hearing the tone of his voice, Addison paled, then nodded and quickly left.
Now that Addison had left, Victoria’s expression changed, a hint of worry could be seen in her features. Her eyes drifted to his glove. “We need to find a way to resolve this issue.”
Dante gave her an accusatory look. “Finally going to help?”
Victoria’s mouth opened so she could speak, then closed. She seemed reluctant to broach the subject. “I’m trying not to get myself killed.”
Dante looked at his glove. He had counted the number of symbols on it an innumerable amount of times in the past few days. It now had a total of 48 Classification symbols on it, and had room for two more. He had been doing his best to hunt down new symbols during the looting after the battles, hoping that it would end his torment. It was becoming increasingly hard to find new ones though, he only had around twenty before fighting the caravans, but now that there were 48, unique Classifications were becoming less common. “Don’t bother then.”
He wasn’t an idiot, he had already made his deductions about Victoria’s background after spending so much time with Melisandre. Even by the most reserved estimates, she was far stronger than anyone he had ever met. The more she had ignored the glove, the more apprehensive he had become about its origins. He had revisited the memory of the old woman that had given it to him multiple times, but he had been unable to glean any additional information from it.
Victoria visibly hesitated. “I can help you. If you have any ideas just tell me what you need. But try to tell me as little as possible.”
Victoria’s willingness to take a risk for him was moving. If she did help him, things would undoubtedly speed up. He wasn’t sure if he should utilize her abilities though, especially if she thought that the situation was risky. Victoria likely had a much clearer picture of the situation than he did.
Victoria saw the contemplation on his face and rolled her eyes. “Stop overthinking things.”
That was easy to do when his focus was being destroyed by the pain flaring in his hand. “I need blood. From two different combat Classifications that I haven’t fought before, and I need enough to submerge my hand in each.”
Victoria nodded and walked away without another word, disappearing into the crowded camp.
Dante stepped into his tent and laid on his bed, relaxing with his eyes closed. Shade curled up to him. The fox’s emotions were linked closer to his than he had anticipated. She had been so agitated recently that even Victoria wasn’t welcome near her. The only person she didn’t hiss at was him.
His unit had returned from the frontline several days ago, and had only managed to fight in three skirmishes. In his state, fighting in such chaotic battles just wasn’t safe. Fortunately, the main camp hadn’t been mobilized yet, so he was still allowed some modicum of comfort. Both warlords were holding back their main forces, and Warlord Vidal was basically just sacrificing the weak combatants that he had conscripted. It was hard to blame those conscripted combatants for trying to flee, and it made the punishment they received even more abhorrent.
“Dante?”
Dante’s eyes snapped open when he heard Addison’s voice. As he stepped out of the tent, he saw that she had two people with her. Both of them were covered in shackles. One was young, maybe a year or two older than him and devilishly handsome. As soon as they made eye contact, the cook smiled charismatically. Then the cook’s eyes began to drift as he scanned the vicinity, resting on something of interest momentarily before losing interest and finding something else to examine.
The other person with Addison was much older. Likely forty if he hadn’t specialized, older if he had. His eyes were red, as though he had been crying, and the way he looked at Dante was full of pleading. Their appearances couldn’t have been in greater contrast.
After examining them, his eyes drifted to Addison. He tried to reign in his temper, his actions when dealing with her earlier had been a bit much. Not only was he pissed off in general because of his glove, but he also hadn’t been paid yet for the two months he spent in the forest. That was something that angered him greatly.
What made it worse, was that Warlord Vidal pushed the responsibility of mollifying him off to Addison. Thus far, she had been failing miserably. “I thought I asked you to bring one of them?”
The younger one had a strange glint in his eyes as he smiled. “She’s completely biased.”
Addison glared at him before looking at Dante. “I know.” She jabbed a finger in the younger cook’s direction. “His cooking Classification is of a higher level, but he’s much harder to deal with and doesn’t have a combat Classification. Also, he is facing public torture and execution, not just crippling. I think that this one would be a better fit for your unit.” A small amount of hope entered the eyes of the older cook when Addison pointed to him.
Dante looked at the younger cook, the cook seemed to be completely confident. He wondered what one had to do to earn public torture and execution. Probably not much given the way other punishments were doled out. “How is he harder to deal with if he doesn’t have a combat Classification?”
Addison caught the younger cook’s wrist and twisted it so the two symbols were facing him, but there was no struggle on the cook’s part. “Strategist. He’s the bastard that led so many to desert.”
His interest was now piqued. A Strategist would be incredibly useful. Dante addressed the younger cook. “How does someone with a Strategist Classification get caught trying to run?”
The wide smile didn’t slip from the cook’s face, and his eyes stopped drifting around to momentarily make contact with Dante’s. “A stroke of misfortune. Some idiot in a scouting party fell from his horse and broke an arm. That group returned to the camp earlier than they should have, and coincidentally, just as I was making my escape.”
Addison glared at the cook. “That wasn’t all that he accomplished.” She looked back at Dante. “Why don’t you go ahead and ask him why there has been such a big delay on your payment.”
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The cook looked aggrieved. “Dearest Addison, I have already apologized for my transgressions. How could you be so cruel as to bring up past grudges?”
Dante examined the cook, he was amusing at the very least. “What is she talking about?”
The cook waved a hand dismissively, causing the shackles around his wrists to clink. “A misunderstanding, I can assure you. Addison has just wrongly accused me of stealing your essence crystals, when in fact, I stole the warlord’s.”
Dante felt his right hand involuntarily twitch with a desire to vent his anger. That explained why he had yet to be paid.
The young cook’s eyes drifted down to his glove, attracted by the sudden movement there. He studied it, as though he had found something of interest, then looked back up. “My dear brother, I can assure you that this will work out for the best. Not only have I already acquired a vast amount of essence crystals for us, but you have yet to be paid. The warlord wouldn’t dare renege on your contract, I’ve practically doubled our payment.”
Dante took note of the words ‘dear brother’, ‘us’, and ‘our’. Melisandre had told him to speak similarly when he was trying to win someone over to his side, and it seemed that this cook was using such a method. If he chose to keep him, the cook would undoubtedly be trouble, but not necessarily in a bad way. “Name?”
Despite already smiling, the corners of the cook’s lips curled, as though he had already been set free. “Jayden.”
Dante looked at Addison. “You can unshackle him, he’ll be joining the Redwing unit.”
Addison didn’t look too happy. Setting a prisoner free was well within the power that his influence brought him as a member of the guild, but this prisoner’s crime was far too extreme. “It would be impossible for me to just let him go, especially without some compensation for the damages he caused.”
Dante looked between Jayden and the older and paler cook as he mulled it over. Jayden was obviously far more capable, but that might not necessarily offset all of the trouble of acquiring him. “I am willing to discipline him appropriately, but I won’t be able to compensate the losses he caused.”
Addison looked like she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. It was obvious she had no intention of willingly giving her prisoner up, but at the same time, she was dealing with someone she couldn’t risk offending. “Meaning…?”
Dante shrugged. “I’m not sure, but it will be unpleasant.”
Addison looked at Jayden for several seconds, a very unsightly expression on her face. “Fine. What did you want me to do with him?”
The older cook put both of his hands together in a subservient manner and his face turned a shade paler. “Please…”
Dante didn’t bother with the man, he had no need of an extra cook, and there was no point in saving a single person when they would be a burden. “I don’t care.” He proceeded to ignore the cook’s pleading as Addison began unshackling Jayden. Then watched as she led the struggling cook away.
“I’m guessing that you already used all of the essence crystals you stole?”
Jayden retracted his tongue, which he had stuck out at Addison and the other cook as soon as they turned away from him. “Of course, dear brother. If I hadn’t, they would have stolen our essence crystals when I was captured.”
Even though he had been a bit agitated that he hadn’t gotten his essence crystals yet, his mood was now greatly improved. He had been operating under the assumption that the warlord was just stalling without the intention to pay, at least until the war was over. It was nice to know that wasn’t the case.
He couldn’t really bring himself to care that Jayden had stolen from the warlord. “Why did you try to escape with so many people, wouldn’t that increase your chances of being caught?”
Jayden was busy massaging his wrist, which had been rubbed raw by the shackles. “Dear brother, you are mistaken. I didn’t lead those rebels, I merely gave them a few ideas to aid them. It was a mere coincidence that my escape and theirs coaligned.”
So basically, he used them as a distraction.
Dante escorted Jayden to the Warriors in his unit. Since they currently weren’t fighting, the combatants that made up the Redwing unit were all spending their free time in leisure. He did drill them occasionally, but otherwise they were free to do as they wished.
After making sure Jayden was watched, and physically abused by the Warriors as punishment, he went back to his tent and sat back down on his bed. Sleep was almost impossible due to the pain from his glove, unless he was exhausted.
Well, he was exhausted, just not exhausted enough.
A feeling of success washed over him though, he finally had a cook. Edible food would be a welcome change. Even in Alazel he ate better than he had in recent days, and that said something.
After the camp lost access to the forest, they had to rely on their stored supplies, which meant grain. They only made one thing, an abhorrent creation that the combatants called ‘cracker’. It was basically horrible flat bread that was baked twice. Apparently, it prevented mold, but mold might have increased the flavor. It was a culinary achievement, they had somehow managed to create something that was both tasteless and absolutely disgusting. Before tasting it, he wouldn’t have thought such a contradiction was possible.
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It was only a short time later when Victoria stepped into his tent. Her expression was solemn as she pulled the tent flap aside and stepped through. In her hands were two alchemic jars, both of them filled with blood. “You shouldn’t have run into anyone with these Classifications.”
Dante gratefully accepted the jars, not bothering to ask where the blood came from. It didn’t really matter. Relief was hopefully imminent. “Thank you.”
Victoria hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll wait outside in case something goes wrong.”
As soon as she stepped out of the tent, Dante opened up the jars of blood. He stared at his glove for a moment, grimacing in anticipation of the pain. After he soaked the glove in his own blood, any contact with other blood caused a flare up of intense pain. From what he could tell, it was dependent on the quantity, every time he would submerge his hand the flare up would last at least an hour.
Dante closed his eyes and sunk his hand in the first jar. The expected flare up seemed to attack every nerve that was under the glove. During the first few days after absorbing his own blood, he thought that he would eventually adapt to the pain, get used to it so that it was just in the background. If anything, the opposite was true.
When the jar was empty, he pulled out his hand. A new symbol appeared, now bringing the total to 49.
He moved to the second jar, excited, yet hesitant. If this didn’t stop the searing sensation, he wasn’t sure how much longer he would last.
Dante submerged his glove.
The amount of pain didn’t change after the first jar, and as soon as it was done absorbing the blood he pulled it out, his expectations high.
Dante stared at the 50th symbol as it appeared. A feeling of intense pain could be felt from the symbol for a brief second, then it began to recede.
It all began to recede. All of it. The pain was still intense, but feeling it fade was euphoric.
A new feeling washed over him, it took him a few minutes to notice it, but there was a pressure building. It began to spread throughout his body. Uncomfortable, but not painful.
The pain was gone, Dante let out a sigh. Relief.
The pressure began to increase. It felt like there was something building inside of him. It was uncomfortable, but it was nothing.
The pressure didn’t stop and a tingling sensation seemed to cover the entirety of his body. A feeling of compression on his inner organs began to build.
Dante covered his mouth with his hand as he coughed. He looked at it, he had coughed blood.
The ground under his feet seemed to move as a feeling of disorientation overwhelmed him. He stumbled forward, vomiting out the contents in his stomach.
Dante looked at his vomit, a sickening feeling washed over him. What should have been bile and what he had eaten earlier was blood. Just blood.
That tingling sensation continued to spread over his body and he felt a wetness in his ears. Dante reached up, touching his ear, his finger came out covered in blood. So much blood.
His breathing became congested, every breath labored as blood leaked from his mouth and nose.
His eyes began to water, obscuring his vision. Dante wiped away the moisture and looked at his hand. More blood.
That tingling sensation became overwhelming, and it felt like he was he was lightly being poked with hundreds of needles.
He watched in horror as the holes in his skin opened further, watched as the blood began to leak from the pores in his skin. It was too much.
He opened his mouth to groan, only to release more blood.
The blood leaked from his body, pooling at his feet until it reached an amount that was unfeasible. He should have been dead after losing so much.
No, it wasn’t his. It couldn’t be. Dante looked at the glove.
In his mind, the reinforcements that were keeping everything stable began to recede. Everything he had been relying on was crumbling and he could feel his consciousness falling apart. Pain washed over him, not from the glove, but from his mind itself. It felt like he was being attacked by the monster from the predatory dungeon.
This time, even the blood pouring out of his mouth couldn’t stop his groan of pain.
Victoria was alerted. She stepped into the tent, her eyes widening as she took in the sight before her. Her gaze wandered from the pool of blood on the floor to his blood coated body. She looked as though she had no idea what to do. That made two of them.
After the presence in his consciousness receded, everything seemed to fracture. Dante smiled wryly at Victoria, it seemed like things had only become worse.
The presence in his mind abruptly returned, slamming back into his consciousness. Dante stumbled, suddenly losing control of his body.
Victoria appeared next to him, carefully lowering him to the floor, his head resting softly on something.
Dante struggled to open his eyes, they weakly fluttered open as the energy seemed to drain from him. He realized that his head was resting on Victoria’s lap. He saw her leaning over him, her face a mask of worry.
The sight was engraved into his mind as he lost consciousness.