Chapter Eighty-Eight
The Count
A series of bells of Fort Guardian tolled out, echoing across the valley in distinct gongs! The noise swept across the fields and the wall-guard looked in panic to the crevice in the hillside, only to find it empty. Four bells meant battle in the language of the stronghold, but there were no enemies before them as the third struck, merely a scattering of Legacies in the low rise of the hills beyond the moat, planting defensive spells, and digging trenches to disturb the evenness of the ground. It was an anxiety-filled moment until fourth came, followed by a fifth – the number of bells which called an all-hands emergency assembly in the forum.
As the Legacies of Fort Guardian amassed in the courtyard before the keep, it was the first time the entire stronghold went undefended in several spells and Jack looked uneasily over the growing crowd. Sidney reminded him twice that they had measures place to warn them, but it did little to quell his fears.
Michael ambled into out of the keep, awkwardly following Marken from their room. The sun glared in his eyes as he groggily asked, “What time is it?”
“Turning, I think,” Marken said, spying the sun just high in the sky but past midday.
Michael watched as the full mass of Fort Guardian gathered by the dining tables and saw the stronghold commanders position themselves looking across the host. He kept his head down and found a spot on the grass a little farther away. He realised there had been very few days at Fort Guardian where he’d sat alone.
Since finding the stolen documents in Oliver’s locker, the members of the company had been processing on their own.
Michael twirled some blades of grass between his fingers and looked up to Jack and Klaryah as they arranged a single desk with enough room for a large stack of parchment and a free space to take one and write upon it. Both him and the assassin looked tense, while the Fortmaster stood upright, smiling. Michael wanted to throw something at him on principle.
A low rumble of conversation rustled through the crowd as they took their seats or chose to stand, looking impatiently to the fort’s leaders.
After a long minute, Lain stood up from her seat beside Archie and Willem and called, “Is it true about Oliver?”
Jack and Amekot shared a glance before the Fortmaster gestured freely to Jack, stepping back.
The maceman sighed and turned to face the enormous crowd, now bustling with whispers. “I’m sorry to say it is.”
Lain’s face turned ashen and Archie slumped in his chair as the gathering of Legacies erupted with every reaction, noisily shouting over one-another until Jack raised his hand and quiet fell again.
“We will get to that, but it’s not the reason you’ve all been summoned. Firstly, it’s the Fifteenth. We have today and tomorrow to prepare before we initiate our defence. Many of you will have been approached about joining particular squadrons connected to this plan... but it has occurred to us that not everyone will be feeling as strongly about remaining at Fort Guardian as others, and out of respect for you all, I’ll be blunt. We need to know who intends to stay and who intends to flee.”
A tall, reedy young man who worked in the Med-Bay with Lillian cleared his throat. “I’m not sure ‘flee’ is the right word, Jack.”
Jack looked at the young man, unblinking. “I’m pretty certain it is.”
The crowd shifted uncomfortably at his words but no one else spoke.
Michael sat, glancing through the crowd as the thought of leaving hadn’t very seriously occurred to him. He’d considered it an option in terms of evacuating the entire fortress, but never just some and not the rest. Certainly not just himself.
Amekot, standing to Jack’s right, looked unimpressed by the angle he was choosing to take but the warrior ignored his sour looks.
Jack wanted to ask it plain and simple, but he’d been a commander before. Sure, some people responded to abruptness and blunt, direct questions, but most people didn’t. Most people needed to be inspired and encouraged and exhilarated, and after that, they’d do nearly anything.
“Victory is achieved through small feats of courage, so, who among you will stand? When this Monarch comes knocking, who of you will tell them to leave? And all the more importantly, who will fight them if they don’t?”
Amekot snorted and stepped forward, jerking his head toward Jack mockingly and sending a small chitter of laughter through the crowd.
Jack gritted his teeth, feeling every ounce of the importance of his words stripped away.
“As Mister McKennedy so dramatically put it, we need to know who will stay. And the choice is simple; If you wish to leave, we understand. You may have family elsewhere or intend to live on the road, and if so, good luck. No one will hold it against you.”
Jack breathed sharply through his nose in disagreement. Amekot turned and shot a challenging look at him. Neither spoke to it but the tension resonated in the air.
Once it dissipated, Amekot took a step back and laid his hand on the tall stack of parchment on the small desk. “If you sign the statement which says, ‘I hereby confirm my withdrawal from Fort Guardian.’ then you will pack your things and leave before Rising’s end tomorrow.” Amekot drummed his fingers on the papers in answer to the heavy silence. “Know this. If you choose to leave this fortress in its hour of need. You are no longer one of us. You forfeit your title as Paladin, Archangel, or Guardian. You forfeit your room and your weapon. That is that.”
Klaryah had sat herself down on the step and looked out over the crowd trying to gauge their faces. Many were dancing back and forth between one decision or another, whilst others clearly had chosen not to think about this moment until now, and were awaking to see it rear its ugly face.
When no one raised any objections, Amekot continued, “But if you sign the statement which says ‘I hereby confirm my commitment to Fort Guardian.’, then we will attribute you to our headcount. You will be committed to a defensive position. Any attempts to flee from this point on, should you choose this option, will be tantamount to High Treason. And will be punished according to Imperial Law.”
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A wave of chatter ran through the crowd as they all weighed what it meant to be convicted of High Treason. Under someone like Amekot it was a longwinded way of saying you’d be hung from the nearest length of frayed rope.
One by one, in order of family-names, the Legacies were called up to the desk. Starting with Flinn Alexander, they took a sheet of parchment from the stack on the left, checked their name was on top, signed one way or the other, and placed the document on the right side of the table, face-down.
The proceedings took a great deal of time but the leaders waited patiently for each Legacy to sign, answering small questions quietly when needed. Some took a long time while others took only as long as it took to write their signature, but no one was rushed.
Michael’s last name was at the far end of the que, so as proceedings went on, he eventually stood and looked about the crowd for the faces he missed. After a moment, he spotted Rose sitting by herself at one of the dining tables and the rangers on the grass on the other side of the forum. He pulled up a seat next to the mage and caught the attention of Nichole and Aroha, waving them over politely.
Rose watched him sit and gave a weak smile. Her eyes were red and puffy and her hands were wrapped gently around a cup of hot chocolate. “How you doin’, honey?”
Michael watched as the young messenger-girl, May, walked nervously up the step and took her own sheet of paper. “I’ve been better. You?”
Rose gave a tired sigh and handed him her cup, mumbling, “I went to see him, but Amekot’s got guards posted. No one’s being let in. I’ve never wanted to fight a Legacy that wasn’t Magnus- or you at breakfast.” Michael bent a smile and Rose huffed. “That jumped up prick needs a reminder that this place is not his goddamn kingdom.”
Michael sipped the hot chocolate and the warmth spread through his stomach as his hands shook. It was bright out, and the sun was only just tilting toward the second half the of day, but it felt as though the rays of light were painted onto the world while the cold wind of autumn moved through the valley. A dark cloud rumbled in the distance, and in its depths, Michael could smell a storm. He turned to see Nichole and Aroha smiling politely at them both.
Nichole pulled up a chair on Michael’s left and Aroha plonked herself on Rose’s right, kissing her on the head and sending a bright smile through her face as they all exchanged soft hellos.
Before long, James ambled over too and Michael sprang up, wrapping him in a tight hug, and only Carter and Sarah were left absent.
James sat on the ground between Michael’s legs having his hair played with, and slowly an hour passed before the Klaryah, began calling out the H-names, and Rose was first among them.
Rose tucked her wand into her waistband and took the quill Jack handed her as she picked up her own piece of parchment. She scanned the document once and signed her name in commitment, laying it on the other side of the table. She handed Jack back the pen and quickly pulled him into a hug, much to his surprise.
Still holding him, Rose murmured, “I’m sorry about Oliver. I know you liked him.”
Jack gave a non-committal shrug, unsure what else to do. “I think my heart’s a little broken to tell you the truth. And I’m sorry too. I know he was your friend.”
Rose let him go and sighed. “It’s a hard time to have friends, and suddenly I have so many.”
The scarred man smiled softly. “You deserve many.” Then he nodded back to the seating area, almost hoping she’d not signed the line he knew she had.
Shortly after, Nichole was summoned and made the same decision, taking only a moment longer before setting down her contract and stepping away, ignoring all the curious faces looking up to her. As Nichole sat down, she knew there would be a while before the next of their group were called and she’d grown tired of the solemn quiet they’d been consumed with.
“Who else thought it was Magnus?”
Michael raised his hand, as did James and Rose, all lightly chuckling as they did so, though saddened in their eyes.
Only Aroha shook her head, leaning slightly on Rose. “Magnus only would’ve stolen those documents to make a small bonfire in his room.”
They all laughed quietly, though much of it was simply so silence wouldn’t return.
Aroha screwed up her face regretfully and looked at Michael. “I actually thought it might be you.”
Michael gave a baffled frown. “Why?”
“I’m sorry! But, hey, you showed up and bad things started happening! I kind of just wondered. But then you orchestrated the whole quest to save this place. You got us all through it.” Aroha reached over and squeezed his arm apologetically. “I figured that was reason enough to let you off the hook.”
Michael chuckled and felt as though he hadn’t worked the muscles in his face in a long time as he said, “Terribly gracious of you.”
A footstep fell softly in front of them and the group looked up to see Sarah, wrapped in a traveller’s cloak with her hair braided over her shoulder.
They all offered soft greetings, but Sarah felt the silence linger around her arrival and she quickly muttered to Michael, “It’s your hair, it makes you look evil.”
Michael snickered and nodded. “I’ll cut it off.”
The company chuckled and for a time there was a sense of warmth in the air, but the ice of their day’s shock had only defrosted a touch, there was still much no one could say or offer. Oftentimes they’d glance at one another after a thicket of silence, and simply smile, hoping the others would understand the depth of the gesture. And that was all they could do. Everyone had been devastated by the news, and the reality was still slowly settling, but they all knew Michael and Sarah had borne it the most.
They didn’t discuss who’d signed what. They didn’t talk about Nikereus or what would be happening in the next couple days. Instead, they just sat and spoke of idle things that didn’t cut too close to anything sensitive. Michael and James talked about Carter, knowing he’d been whisked away for something dictated by Amekot, and while they were both edged with anxiety over the matter, they knew that of the three of them, he was maybe the most capable of looking after himself in the world of magic and monsters.
Though Michael’s friends had acted quickly in their signing of the document, it took everyone else a moment or so, and a minute a piece began to add up, pushing the day all the way into mid-Felling. Many complained about the time it was taking, but Amekot implored that everyone remained in the forum after signing, so they could act as witnesses for the event. Lunch and early dinners were had quietly as Legacies waited for their names to be called. Eventually Magnus’ name was announced and the pale boy appeared from the crowd and vanished just as quickly once he was done, stalking away and rubbing his temples like the mere presence of others gave him a headache.
As the family-names thinned to the final letters in the alphabet, Michael’s name was finally announced.
He wanted to believe it was his imagination when his name was called and the crowd went quiet, but he knew since discovering Oliver his name had become a popular one to whisper. Jack handed him the quill as he walked to the desk and laid his piece of parchment flat.
It read:
Sign one of the two following statements:
I hereby confirm my withdrawal from Fort Guardian: ____________
I hereby confirm my commitment to Fort Guardian: ____________
This document is binding under the Talisatian Legal System, and all those entering into this contract are bound to any verbally aforementioned conditions of their decision.
Signed,
Fortmaster Amekot Hillborn of Legacy-Outpost Fort Guardian
Michael was briefly overcome by the urge to throw something at the Fortmaster again when he tried to imagine a world in which Amekot would actually try to make anyone feel worried about the Talisatian Legal System when they were forty-eight hours away from almost certain death. He took a very deep breath.