Rhode knew he was wasting time, and it tore at him; but people were getting hurt, and he had the strength to stop it. Sure, maybe he was wrong to try, to intervene. But he couldn’t help himself. This was something he could change, a choice which wouldn’t have wide-ranging and unforeseen consequences.
Probably. Hopefully. Well whatever, he’d deal with it later. What was the worst that Sacred could do to him that they hadn’t already done?
Don’t answer that.
He sighed and curled his hands into fists. At some point, he’d stopped calling himself human in his mind. It didn’t bother him, but it was true. He hadn’t decided what he was now. Did it matter? Existential questions were for bored, satisfied people who had nothing better to do. Still, Rhode was adrift. He was a tool in the hands of powers that he didn’t fully understand yet. What was he supposed to think was right?
The answer was: start by doing what you’re told. Do it proactively. Listen for when you’re lied to, pay attention when you’re told the truth. Most importantly, take liberties to choose the way that you deliver. Brand had never been specific about what he’d expected from Rhode tonight, and that was important. It left room to interpret. It left space to prioritize.
Rhode had to find the others. He would be able to trust the people of Earth, he had to believe that he could. He wouldn’t have to be afraid of speaking openly with them. He wouldn’t have to be afraid of making mistakes. Together, they would pretend to be human again.
Whatever had gone wrong, whatever reason the masters of this place had lost control, this was his chance to make it happen. It might even be the only one he got. But everything fell apart if he kept getting sidetracked. [Hibernate] tickled at him. The [Relay] fork was screaming in his pocket. Rhode knew his moment was slipping away.
Except there was a reason to be sidetracked, lying at his feet.
An uneasy peace was enforced by the hulking presence of the Hero. Wobbly goblins on either side of the skirmish were stirring, but their fight (and their senses) had been knocked clear out of them. They staggered awkwardly as they started to sort apart into opposing sides.
Rhode was squatted over a young man in tough, practical linens. The goblin’s belly was slashed raggedly open and his innards slipped out into the air like a hernia. A heinous, foul smell emerged from a nick in his guts, where a black paste began to ooze and mix with his blood.
“Sorry man,” the Hero whispered. “I don’t know how to fix you, and I really gotta go.”
He stood.
“Can somebody fix this guy? He needs help.”
No one answered. So Rhode jabbed a finger at a soldier and curled it to beckon her over.
“You. Sit with him,” he commanded. It hurt to see how many goblins flinched when he spoke.
The soldier he’d singled out was limping, and she wore the plain standard of a lizard with the head of a pig. “I’m not a healer,” she protested.
Rhode shook his head and whispered. “It doesn’t matter, just… talk. Hold his hand or something. Apply pressure if you can. I hope that help is coming, but he needs somebody there for him now. It matters more than you can know. Believe me.”
A display case had shattered sometime in the fight, and its contents sprawled across the floor. Finely painted models of ships, bronze toys with wheels, and little sculptures of copper-rich green stone lay scattered. Many were broken. The goblin union-boss had landed in the middle of that wreckage, and he touched at his swollen bruises as he rolled himself to sit up.
The magician squire who had led the guard was in better shape. He’d been protected by his improbable, jewelry-like armor, both from Rhode’s blow and from the column he’d slammed against. But the officer was young, and shaken. He bore his condition poorly as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. Purple sparks flashed off his runes, and the chains between them popped apart from internal forces let loose.
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“I don’t want to deal with y’all fighting again,” Rhode announced. “So this is how things go. I am a bona fide, motherfucking Hero of Legend, and every one of y’all here are hereby enlisted by me. I don’t know why, and I don’t know how, but tonight has gotten way out of control. We are going to fix it.”
Illuminance’s squire wiped his nose against his sleeve. His eyes were wide with wounded pride, and his mirrored rod flashed with scalding heat. Veins rose along the union boss’s neck, as the thick-necked man steamed with injustice.
“Whatever you are gonna say, shut up. I can get in trouble with your bosses later. And you. I’ll try to get you guys paid. I don’t know if I can, but I swear I’ll try.”
“They’ll hang us for this,” snarled the carpenter.
“Well then you were humped anyway, man!” shouted Rhode. “Dang! I am the softest landing y’all could have had tonight, I guarantee you that. Now fall in line.”
“Or else what?” hissed the squire.
“Because,” Rhode rumbled. The homunculus strode to the edge of the ruined barricade and leaned down.
Faces paled as he lifted a padded, silk sleeved square. The homunculus bared his wide, flat teeth.
“I just found another pillow.”
Forty goblins watched as the hero raised his weapon over their heads.
“I’m not necessarily saying no,” spoke an exasperated voice from the back, “but that’s really not as intimidating an argument as you think it is.”
----------------------------------------
It was misery for Rhode to talk so much. His throat hurt, and beyond that he felt a little stupid. As a man he’d never been much of a public speaker. As a monster? Well. Brand had warned him.
Soldiers were already busy clearing space on his orders. There were hurt goblins here, and the homunculus imagined that the atrium could hold well enough to serve as a makeshift clinic. None of the men and women he’d drafted had agreed it was a good idea, but no one had opposed it as a bad one either. That was good enough for him.
“Can one person, just find me a glass of water?” Rhode called out. “Is that possible? No? What’s in that bottle there? Nope. I am not desperate enough to try anything called [Quench].”
To keep the carpenters apart, Rhode had sent them to collect and reinforce his couch. As it was, the sofa had been a pain for the corn-silk mercenaries to lift. His ride had been unsteady and far too bumpy an experience. He rubbed his back, and his hands came away sticky. It was fairly noticeable now how much of his clothing was obviously bleeding through.
He’d deal with it later.
Voices chattered over one another, fighting to be heard over the tuning fork in Rhode’s pocket. He’d held out hope that it would give him clues to where the other Heroes were. No such luck. They’d stopped broadcasting useful information, now. There was no news on how far the riots had spread either, or whether they’d been contained. The only reports the [Relay] was still giving were the squads that were converging on him, or someone called Ser Reliance telling him to sit still. He tried to tune them out.
The mercenary captain approached, his [Extra Eye] wary. “If I were you, I’d be less sure them knightly Sers believed me.”
He’d shaken Rhode out of his thoughts. “About what? Oh. [Berserk]. No. I’m sure they won’t. But you know, that’s the thing about people like that. Give them what they want, and they’ll pretend to believe anything. If they don’t? Whatever, we’re already all in trouble.”
“We could always make it worse. My plan’s to blame it on you,” shrugged the captain, as he gathered up his crew.
Wild laughter and heated bickering was breaking out into the sound of hammers, saws, and nails. Rhode discovered that it was helpful to shout out ideas at random, and it helped the goblins stay on track.
“Do you think you could put some wheels on it?” he hollered.
The carpenters abandoned their plans to add a frontal battering ram, agreeing that an axle was a smarter feature anyway. Rhode didn’t give them long to finish though, he simply didn’t have the time. The moment his makeshift chariot was rigged with sturdy carrying poles, and some kind of barrel had been run through with a pipe and slung below to serve as a wheel, the homunculus threw a pile of new cushions on top of it and heaved himself in place beneath its unfinished and unnecessary roll-cage. He couldn’t figure out how they’d gotten this contraption to work, and at this point he really didn’t care.
Rhode closed his eyes and waved Spear Squad 2 over to his side. “Hey Fent. Can you get us going, please.”
“Alright everyone, you heard the Hero! Let’s outrun our problems, for as long as we can! Grab everything you need. We’ve got midwives and a kill squad coming from the west! Insurance guys headed down from north! We’ve got east and south left over, and I say south because I do! Hustle up!”