Shin stared down at the motionless kobold, so small and frail without the essence that must have animated her in life, and wondered how he was supposed to handle all of this hatred.
He’d only felt this way once in his entire life: that moment in the guard outpost when he’d laid eyes upon the stuffed mongrels, contorted into animal poses and displayed as cruel trophies. Back then, his seething rage had been supplanted by first the desperate fight for survival and then the impossible thrill of victory.
But now?
Now his fury boiled inside him, bubbling up in the back of his throat, making him feel as if he needed to vomit. It had been his constant companion since the moment he returned from the Inside Place and had only grown when news of the attack on the harbor reached him. And without a knife pointed to his throat or any victory at all peeking around the corner, that hatred was his constant companion. It had nowhere to go, there was no room left in him.
All Shin could do was writhe with how much he hated these people, these Players who saw no worthier use of their time than to hurt and murder innocent people who never harmed or even met them.
“ –remember how Miyaki would always sing when she was hanging her laundry,” the kobold next to Shin offered, his hat clutched between his hands. “I’d always get whatever tune it was stuck in my head all day.”
The gathered villagers murmured in agreement, huddled around the body of their fallen friend as they offered their memories in Shinki Itten tradition of funerals. There were twenty of such clusters arranged in the Garden Plaza that night, and at the center of each one of them was a body that was once a mother, or a brother, or a neighbor, or a loved one. Soon they would dissolve into a haze of blue, and those memories would be all that was left.
Nearly every resident of Shinki Itten was present for the final night their friends would spend in Magica. And those that weren’t were entirely composed of Banken and Wild Children, who patrolled every street and lurked within every shadow in defense of any who might see the citywide gathering as an opportunity for mischief or worse. Shin almost hoped the Red Players would make a move. They’d barely live long enough to regret it.
Shin silently drew away from Miyaki’s huddle as a sniffling hobgoblin took his turn to speak. There were still bodies left to see.
A light chuckle was dying down in the next group Shin carefully joined, some mild joke easing the heavy hearts of the gathered villagers. Good. That was good. Shin knew that he should also be making those kinds of efforts, that he should be helping to ease the burdens of his friends and family instead of obsessing over his own. Who’s circle was this? Maybe he had a light-hearted story to–
Shin’s hand lifted to clutch hold of his braid as he recognized Nao carefully arranged on a blossom-strewn pallet. Why was he…? The kobold shook his head sharply, his lips curled and eyes squeezed shut as he silently demanded that the tears stop trailing down his cheeks.
No. No. This wasn’t right. He’d spoken to Nao that morning. The last fucking thing he’d said to him was ‘Everything will be fine’. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t–
The kobold stiffened as he felt a hand touch his arm, then another on his shoulder. He forced open his eyes, barely able to see through a haze of stinging tears as the mourning villagers reached out to comfort him. It was all he could do to stand there, silently shuddering through a sob as the others quietly supported him.
And then, with a heaving gasp, he spoke. “Nao was my friend,” Shin managed to choke out. “Our friend. And I’ll never forget him.”
Or that he was taken from us, Shin decided not to add.
A tug at the back of his robes proved to be Mimasu, the little scribe seemingly regretful to interrupt. “Shin, the Council is–”
Shin turned away from Mimi, managing a sad smile for the rest of the villagers. “Please, excuse us.” They all nodded and affirmed their understanding, returning to their farewells as Shin whipped around and marched Mimasu away from the memory circles and deeper into the shadows of the Plaza. “I know the Council is ready to meet,” he hissed at the scribe. “You don’t have to hurry me along.”
Mimasu frowned. “I, I’m sorry Shin, but it’s really getting–”
“Why don’t you join a circle for a bit?” Shin prodded the smaller kobold in the shoulder, sniffing confrontationally at him. “Huh, Mimasu? I know you haven’t been to one yet.”
The scribe shrank back. “I, but, I’m really not good at this sort of thing, I don’t think I’d–”
“How about Piers?” Shin gripped Mimasu tightly by the shoulder and swung him to face the gathering for a young hobgoblin merchant. “He always stocked that scroll paper you like so much. Or Heilun?” He aimed the scribe towards another group. “You and she were at the fortress together, you fought side by side. Well, she fought, not you, so maybe not Heilun. Why not Miyaki, or Gerard, or Joko,” –The Schemer whipped Mimasu around until he’d been confronted with each and every fallen villager– “Or any of them, Mimasu?”
The scribe stared back at Shin, ears twitching. “But…the Council is meeting, I don’t–”
“The Council doesn’t need you right now,” Shin replied, his voice hard and flat, “And they don’t need me right away either.” He gave the other kobold a shove, forcing him to stumble towards the gathering. “Pick one of them, Mimasu. Share your memories. Until then I don’t want to see you. Someone else can take the fucking notes.”
Shin didn’t wait for Mimasu’s reply, turning on his heels to march away. He was going to regret having said all that. He knew that for a fact. But he could deal with the fallout later. Right now there was someone he needed to see.
——————————————————————————————————
“General.”
Wren glanced up towards Shin, offering the red-eyed kobold a sympathetic frown. He and the other elves had kept a respectful distance from the rituals of the Shinki Itten natives, standing by in a show of support but doing their best to not interfere with ways that weren’t their own. “You’ve got my condolences, son. I knew a few of those villagers myself.”
“There’d be even more of them if it wasn’t for you and yours,” Shin replied, reaching out to gratefully take hold of Aryn’s shoulder. “Each and every one of you risked yourselves for us,” he said, slowly turning his head to meet the eyes of every Oaken Elf. “You didn’t do it because it was your duty, or because we forced you, or because you had something to gain. You did it because you are good. That is rare in this world.”
Trees be damned. Wren could face off against a dozen more ships and three times that many Red Players, but unguarded sincerity? He’d never found a way to defend against that particular scourge. “It’s, ahem, it’s alright,” Wren grumbled, coughing into his fist in an attempt to hide his blush. “We did what we could.”
“You did more than that.” Shin tilted his head. “How is Floss? Has she woken up yet?”
Wren nodded. “Yes, she has; the clerics say she’ll be fine. Stiff as hell for a few weeks, but fine.”
“I’m so glad to hear it,” Shin breathed, his ears unfolding. “She’s a hero. You’re all heroes.”
“We’re prisoners,” Wren retorted, a light smirk playing across his lips. “I’m not sure it’s possible to be both at–”
“You aren’t prisoners,” Shin cut in, his tone leaving no room for debate. “Banish that thought from your mind. If you want to leave Shinki Itten tonight, not only will we allow it but I will see that you are outfitted and escorted to anywhere in Magica you might want to go.”
The old general raised an eyebrow. “Even back to Quercus? To King Glandem?”
Shin’s ears shot forward. “Wren, if you and your troops want to go back to Glandem, even after everything that’s happened, I will personally go to Quercus with you and allow you to turn me over to him. This conflict will be over. You will have won it.”
Wren could never tell when the kid was lying. He didn’t think he ever would. But somehow, he had to believe that that was the truth. “We’re…not going back to him,” Wren replied, not needing to look back to confirm the nods of all of the other elves. “That chapter in our lives is over.”
“Then join us,” Shin implored, his hands reaching out to Wren in a heartfelt plea. “I won’t pressure you in front of the Council again, or try to make some public spectacle out of the matter. But right now, when it’s just you and me,” –He threw out his hand, indicating the gathered elves– “And every one of you who’s lost so much and still risked everything to stand here tonight, I’m begging you to join us. We’re already friends, Wren. Why can’t we be family, too?”
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“I–” Wren stopped himself, holding his breath as he considered his response. He’d known this moment would come eventually. Impossible for it not to. He hadn’t thought it would be tonight, though, or that Shin would be so willing to throw away every ounce of pride to ask, but he’d decided on his answer long ago. And then reconsidered. And then reconsidered again. And then he didn’t know what he thought, and decided to stop thinking about it. But now the kid had forced the issue, and Wren found himself on the spot.
Wren had once heard a piece of advice, a scrap of old soldier’s wisdom that had served him well. If you were ever unsure between two choices, flip a coin. Once it’s landed, and the choice has been made for you, you’ll know how you truly wanted it to land. Well the kid had just laid it all out for him, and it truly seemed as if the choice had been made.
But.
“I’ve given up on Glandem,” Wren heard himself responding, “But not on Quercus. I won’t give up on Quercus. Can’t.” The general strode forward pointing towards one of the memory circles. “Quercus has someone just like Heilun,” –He swept his finger towards another circle– “And Panko,” –Another– “And a Nao, too. And I won’t abandon them, either. Maybe one day things will be different, or there won’t be another way forward, or–” He let that thought trail off, shaking his head with a sigh. “Until then, though? No. The answer is no.”
Shin ran a hand down the side of his face. Gods, the kid looked tired. “So what are we, then?” He inquired. “We can’t go on as if nothing has changed.”
“Well…” Wren glanced towards Aryn, the young elf chewing on his lower lip in concern. “What do you think?”
“Eh? Oh!” The elf chewed his lip a little harder, eventually mustering up a response. “Allies?”
“That sounds right to me.” Wren extended a hand to the downcast Schemer. “We’ll be allies, as close as allies can be. With hopes to one day be even closer, assuming your offer still stands?”
Shin sniffled, then gratefully took the older man’s offered shake. “It does, Wren. It will. Thank you again.” The two allies stood together for a moment, connected by their clasped hands and a hard-won comradery, and then Shin heaved a sigh. “Alright, well. I’ve got to go now. The Council expects me to explain to them how I’m going to keep all of our craftsmen from getting deleted.”
Wren winced. “Tough break. I heard that all of your Profession Skills were locked?” Shin nodded, so Wren continued on. “Well seeing as we’re not an official part of Shinki Itten, ours weren’t. We can start the repairs on the docks until you manage to plot and swindle your way out of yet another jam.”
Shin tsked. “So what, now we’re gonna owe you even more? We’ve been allies for thirty seconds, Wren, and you’re already making this alliance unbalanced as hell.”
“Them’s the breaks, son.” Wren shrugged. “You have to wake up pretty damn early to out-ally an Oaken Elf.”
“Clearly.”
Wren watched the kobold shuffle away, noting that the kid’s shoulders were held a bit higher now. Good. It’d been a rough day for all of them, and more punishment was coming. But they could hold each other up. That did make them family, even if they weren’t officially part of the same side.
Blah. Unguarded Sincerity. The kid had infected him. Wren turned back to his troops, the elves perking up as their general’s craggy face split in a sideways grin. “Looks like it’s another long day for us tomorrow, eh? More time spent showing these pups how real elves get things done, right?!”
The other elves pumped their fists as one, fire blazing behind their eyes. “Right!”
Wren might not have been able to tell when the kid was lying. But he was certain now whether or not he liked him. Whether or not he liked Shinki Itten. And even if he wasn’t, he knew how his troops felt.
For an old officer like Wren? That was all he needed to know.
——————————————————————————————————
By the time Shin finally joined the rest of the Council at the back of the Garden Plaza, he could tell they must have been waiting a long time. Even Dyu was visibly flustered at having had to wait so long. “Finally,” Shita frowned, her strong arms folded across her chest. “Can we get through this, now?”
Shin didn’t immediately respond as he stepped into the group. Instead he cocked an ear, leveling a stare at Mimasu. “Which circle did you join? What did you say?”
The little scribe frowned. “That’s personal.” When Shin continued to stare, though, he frowned harder. “I watched Nao. I said I’d always remember how nice he made your hair look. Are you happy now?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Still, he didn’t press the issue any further, turning instead to scan the rest of the group. “Where are we at?”
“Still grasping at straws,” Hanbun grumbled. “We still don’t know for sure if this was just a terrible day, or if it was all–”
“It wasn’t just happenstance,” Shin insisted, “This was organized. What did the Moderator wind up doing in response to the mass reportings?”
“He turned off our Skills,” Shita answered. “We all know that.”
“Yes but what did he say?” Shin pressed forward, tapping a finger into his palm. “Didn’t he say it was ‘Standard Procedure’?”
“Sure an’ true, that’s right enough,” Moots mused. “Iffin someone were savvy o’ how the moderation system worked, they’d know ‘sactly what mass reportin’ our Trainers would do. Sure as heckfire they’d know.”
Shin went ahead and finished the thought. “And then that very same day, Red Players cause a massive disaster that requires extensive repairs?” He shook his head, dismissing any thought of coincidences. “No. Not a chance. This was all planned. This was Glandem.”
“Um–” The Council turned as one to stare at Bex, the honorary kobold’s tail tucked at suddenly being the center of attention. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate for me to be here, I just wanted to show my respects and then I saw all of you and I–”
Shin beckoned the girl forward, a bit of the furor attempting to burst free of his ribcage fading away. “You’re one of us, Bex.” Even if he hadn’t known the girl at this point, the glistening trails on her cheeks said it all. “You have just as much right to be here as any of us.”
Bex nodded, running her forearm across her eyes before sheepishly moving to join the Council. She sniffed again as Gero slipped her under one arm, offering the other woman a grateful look before starting over. “Sorry. It’s just, I don’t know how it could be Glandem.”
“Why?” Shin tilted his head. “You don’t think he’d do something like this?”
“No no, it’s not that at all. It’s just…” Bex frowned. “Forget about me. Okay? Think about most of the Players you’ve ever met. Hell, even think about my two friends. Are you thinking about them?”
Shin frowned, not certain that he followed. “Okay, I am…”
“Okay. Now, ask yourself: How many of them do you think would go along with something that an NPC told them to do? And not, like, a quest or a mission or something in the game. I mean that would follow the lead of one of them?”
That…wasn’t the worst point Shin had ever heard. “Not many.”
Bex extended her palms. “Right? And that’s just normal Players. The idea of a Red Player working with a Magica citizen, it’s just…” The girl scoffed, shaking her head. “No way. Not a chance. It goes against everything they’re all about. A Red Player who did that would get laughed out of their forums so hard that it would probably take them permanently offline.”
That also wasn’t the worst point Shin had ever heard. “Right…”
“And even then,” –Bex continued on– “If it did somehow happen? Trying to get all of them to follow along with a plan would be like trying to put a leash on a bolt of lightning and take it for walks. Red Players aren’t followers. Within the first five minutes of the plan being set, like sixty percent of them would already be trying to decide on what the funniest moment to betray everyone else would be. The other forty percent would have already done it.”
“So it must be some other Player who put this all together,” Hilde started, fussing in distraction with the tassel of her sword, “And they’re either a master organizer or supremely charismatic. I’m not sure which possibility I’m less thrilled by.”
“And we have no idea where the next attack might come from,” Hanbun added, flicking her ears towards the Wild Children councilmember. “Have you heard from your brothers and sisters out in the wilds?”
“Yes,” the wild-looking kobold confirmed. “Every path between Shinki Itten and the five closest cities is under constant watch. Higen is on his way here, but until the Council gains new information we’re just killing Red Players on sight and keeping the scent of everyone else.”
“We can worry about all of that later,” Shita interrupted. “Right now I just want to hear about how we’re going to avoid being deleted. Those Players are going to go back to mass reporting us as soon as our Skills turn back on, aren’t they? So what are we going to do?”
Shin shook his head. “Don’t worry, I’ve got that solved.”
Shita had clearly hoped Shin would say that, but hadn’t dared let herself believe it. “Really?” the blacksmith demanded. “You’ve really figured it out?”
“Yes,” Shin promised, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Absolutely. Once our Skills are back on, just tell any Player who comes asking for training to meet me in the central Tower. I will take care of everything, Shita.”
The powerful woman nearly collapsed, such was her instant relief. “Oh Goddess, Shin, thank you. When Koda began to fade, I wasn’t, I mean I couldn’t…” She went quiet as she focused on something happening further into the Plaza, a dark cyan light reflected in her eyes. “It’s starting.”
She didn’t need to explain what. The Council turned as one, huddling together as beads of azure began to gently float away from the twenty memory circles. The gathered villagers of Shinki Itten fell into a bittersweet silence as the air above them filled with motes of glimmering blue, the night sky momentarily turning as bright and colorful as day as their friends and family passed on to rejoin the essence of the world.
Shin leaned in as he felt Gero slip her arm around him, gratefully nestling himself against her. She hadn’t said anything that night, hadn’t had any comment about Shin’s attitude or state of mind or behavior. But she knew that no matter how far the kobolds had come, sometimes the mongrel in them just needed support and a quiet snuggle.
And so there they stood, tails entwined as they bid farewell to those they had lost. Nothing could bring them back, but Shin could give everything he had to make certain that no one else followed after them.
And he could see to it that the ones who had taken them paid.