Sledges were improvised using the rods and oiled cloths meant for tents. The Wardens had brought sledges already, but nobody could’ve accounted for the sheer loss of life they would suffer at the hands of the Brotherhood. Once Fox Company rejoined the rest of the Warden army, Sylvia mounted a rescue effort to drag the wounded she had been forced to abandon to their sanctuary in the rear.
Unsurprisingly, they had all been put down. Either executed by laser rifle fire or squashed like insects. Even if they had been alive, Sylvia found that there weren’t enough able bodied soldiers among the rest of the Warden companies to drag the wounded back home. Especially among those of Elliott’s company, who had been attacked from the front and the flank by both the Brotherhood and the Skulltakers respectively. Those who had suffered leg injuries, but were still able to stand upright, were forced to limp home.
Julius and many of the other officers had left ahead of the army, but Sylvia and William stayed behind to help. Only two pairs of extra hands, but hands that were needed. Kenneth was among them, surprisingly. It was his coordination of their rescue efforts that stabilized the condition of many of the wounded. Despite his grim exterior, the old ghoul was softer on the inside than Sylvia realized.
The march home was a bleak one, however, and nobody could stop their wounded from freezing to death in the cold. Sylvia and the other wardens were exhausted from fighting and gasped cold air with wheezing coughs. Sylvia’s stomach grumbled, having only had the chance to eat a light breakfast, like many others. The walls of Warden City appeared in the distance, as Sylvia trudged forward in an unthinking trance, moving one boot in front of the other.
The sight might have promised salvation, but by the time they reached the southernmost edge of the western walls, two-fifths of their wounded had been abandoned along the Pacific Highway. Each sacrifice numbed Sylvia to the loss, necessary choices to preserve the rest of their number. She could almost understand the psychosis that Kenneth and Julius must have undergone over the course of their centuries long lifespans.
Sentries stood along the length of the western walls, the first among the city’s populace to see their sorry state. She heard their worried whispers as shouts to open the gates resounded, but she didn’t quite have the strength to look up at them. Sylvia’s hands felt frozen in place, after having to drag one of the wounded some 20 miles.
She pulled closer towards the gate, sledge in tow, and kicked forward. “Open the gates! We’ve got wounded!”
The locks barring the gate were moved with a loud clashing of metal on concrete and the gate creaked open, its hinges shrieking their welcome home. Sylvia was home at last, but her relief briefly turned to shock when cheers and applause echoed through the gates as they opened. People were gathered along the roads that ran through the city, with broad smiles on their faces and eager clapping hands.
The scene was confusing and Sylvia entertained the idea that she must have crossed into an alternate reality. One where the Wardens had won in their battle against the Brotherhood. Then she realized that the Wardens technically did win, having repelled the Brotherhood’s advance northward. That’s what Julius had claimed, at least.
The smiles in the onlooking crowd fell away once they saw their triumphant wardens, bruised and battered as they were. A young man fell out of line to embrace his mother with one arm, having lost the other. His sisters huddled around to console him and tears began to stream down his face.
Kenneth pushed through a crowd of onlookers, ordering them to make way, his usual gruff demeanor returning. The man he had been dragging home on a sledge was left on the road, with an elderly couple crying over him. The woman lifted his body and shook him, speaking incomprehensible words. Sylvia heard the man beside her say, “He’s gone, dear. Our boy is gone.”
Sylvia felt ashamed then, walking down the street in full view of Warden City’s populace, only hidden by her mask. The largest army they had ever known was butchered for Julius’ victory. A throbbing sensation pierced through her skull and she almost doubled over, if not for William’s timely assistance.
“Easy, we’re almost to the hospital.” He said and helped Sylvia pull her sledge forward, grabbing the second of two handles attached to the sledge.
When they reached the hospital, the medical staff was assessing the state of their patients. Triage, Kenneth had once called it. Those who were in critical conditions were brought into the hospital for care, but there were too many people to care for.
Those who were assessed to be in a non-critical state were left on the side of the road to wait for treatment, but their faces were pale, their breathing heavy, and Sylvia knew they wouldn’t last. It was a miracle they lasted as long as they did.
Feris approached, blood streaking down the side of her arm. Ever proactive, Feris told Sylvia that she’d make the rounds in the hospital. To make an accounting of Fox Company’s wounded and wait for the surgeons to finish their work before crossing off names. Sylvia did the same along the street. She’d have to make the rounds a second time, so their total losses could be calculated by the end of the day.
A warden dragged a metal trash can and Sylvia helped him pull it towards the row of wounded on the street. Wood was thrown in and set alight, melting the snow around it. A man called out to Sylvia, begging to be brought closer to the warm light, and she obliged him.
Other wardens began helping their efforts and they dragged in more trash cans from the nearby area, with more firewood being offered up by the locals. Soon enough, the entire stretch of the road in front of the hospital was free from any trace of frost as the wounded warmed themselves by the fires along its length. It was a small consolation, but Sylvia had done all that she could.
William carried a bundle of firewood in his strong arms towards a stack, set it neatly off to one side, and made his way to Sylvia. He carefully moved between the wounded, a limp in his step. The straps of his mask were loosened and it hung over his chest. There was a crack in the side, where a bullet was lodged.
“There isn’t nearly enough medical supplies in the hospital for all these wounded.” William said in a whisper, so only Sylvia could hear him. “If the Mercers were still friendly, they could’ve supplied us with more chems. More bootleg stimpacks or med-x. But now?” He shook his head. “A lot of these guys are gonna have to go through this entirely sober.”
“Maybe we could procure a few bottles of vodka from the distillery.” Sylvia said.
“Gonna need more than just a few bottles. Everyone will want a drink before the day is through. Lot’s of bodies to bury.”
“I’m gonna see if I can get something for the wounded. They’ve earned that much. C’mon, two captains can speak louder than one.”
Sylvia walked down the assembly yard of Warden City in front of the Warden’s domed palace, the old Capitol that lended its name to Seattle’s Capitol Hill. The statue of a warden was erected in the center of the steps leading to the palace, the beloved icon of many in the city. Not to Sylvia, however, once she had learned that the statue was modeled after Julius, his ghoul visage hidden beneath a warden’s mask.
A mob of angry people seemed to share her opinion as they threw food at the statue from behind an armed perimeter of wardens, who prevented them from approaching any closer to the palace. They turned to face Sylvia as she approached, anger on full display.
They made way for her as she passed, just barely, and yelled insults all the while. Because she had returned alive and their children had not. A man spat on her mask and William pistol whipped him, ordering the mob to back away, but this only made them angrier. Which, in turn, made William more belligerent.
“Give me back my sons! My sons!” Another man said and tried to grab at William’s collar, but William smashed the handle of his pistol against the man’s nose.
The mob backed away from this second display of violence, understanding the shallow depth of William’s patience for them. The perimeter guards pushed through the mob and escorted Sylvia and William towards the palace. Sylvia turned to look at the crowd, to see the faces of the people the Wardens failed, and was hit in the chest by a rotten tato.
“Smells rancid.” William said as he helped Sylvia scrape away the tato from her uniform.
“I’ll have to take your word for it.” Sylvia said, unable to smell any of the green mush on her uniform from underneath her mask.
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—
Sylvia made her way through the halls of the palace, towards the assembly chamber. Much of the splendor of pre-war America had survived through the centuries, flanking her every step. Carved stone, red carpets, paintings and old tapestries. It was no surprise that Julius claimed Seattle’s Capitol Hill as the Warden’s base of operations. Faded with age, but still beautiful, it was something to remind him and the other ghouls of what they had lost.
Shouts echoed through the doors of the assembly hall, terse and rasping. Sylvia strolled into the chamber, her entrance given no attention. Senior officers, as well as civilian administrators, were in heated argument. Kenneth was front and center, wagging his finger at Elliott, while Julius sat in his throne on the dais.
“The hospital needs those supplies to care for the wounded!” Kenneth roared. “It’s one thing to order men to their deaths, into battle, but it’s another to abandon them entirely.”
The words stung at Sylvia, even when she knew the words weren’t directed at her. Whatever Kenneth was accusing Elliott of, she herself was guilty. Then she felt a sneaking suspicion. What supplies did the hospital need? Sylvia hushed William, who began to say something beside her, and seated herself at a disk near the center of the chamber. Away from the other groups.
“A good portion of the wounded are reported to have minimal injuries, those men can survive well enough. But the wounded who are missing limbs and cannot fight again? Well, they’re a bad investment.” Elliott drawled his words, talking down to Kenneth who was more irritable than Sylvia had ever seen him.
“How is that I am the ghoul, but you’re the one that’s barely human? You stand there proposing that we abandon fellow wardens who fought and bled for us!”
Julius raised a hand from the comfort of his thrones, face impassive. “I’ve made a decision. We will divert more supplies from the hospital to the production of molotovs. Alcohol for fuel, rags for wicks, everything we need. The bottles we can scavenge as needed, plenty of those laying about.”
“You can’t be serious, Julius. Lives hang in the balance. If you do this, then we are abandoning veteran wardens to put bombs in the hands of green conscripts.”
“Enough. On to the next topic.” Julius waved a hand at Kenneth, as dismissive as it was impatient. There was no longer favor there. “Captain Elliott, continue.”
As Kenneth returned to his seat, Elliott’s lieutenant handed him a folder, which Elliott raised into the air for all to see. “I have drawn up several plans for our future campaigns.”
“In what time? We’ve just returned home!” Trusky called out, with the pretense of emotion. He smiled and nodded at Kenneth, who grumbled something to the man.
Elliott’s smug smile remained on his face and he responded patiently. “These war plans are old, but are applicable now more than ever. These are hypotheticals formulated to defend Warden City from her enemies, in the event that she finds herself fighting alone once more. As was the case during the Chaos.”
The prominent individuals on Elliott’s side of the room were nodding appreciatively, a display of support mimicked by the others around them. Sylvia now could see the divisions in the assembly hall, the lesser factions and representatives of interest groups that seated themselves purposefully behind either Kenneth or Elliott.
“Tell me, did you plan for our losses as well? You could have avoided this trouble if you were so forward thinking!” Trusky said and laughter sounded from Kenneth’s side of the room.
Trusky smiled with satisfaction, though Sylvia doubted he felt any of it. Kenneth was silent, but most prominent among them. Seated as he was in the center of his group, surrounded by individuals who held prominence themselves. One of whom was the Chief of Internal Security, Pamala.
Despite the large host arrayed behind Kenneth, louder in their approval than their counterparts, Elliott seemed to be winning whatever game they were playing. He walked up the dais and handed Julius the folder, an act that would usually be punished with a round of flogging. Kenneth’s group was silent then.
“To bring back our former allies back into our coalition, we must return to a position of strength. Therefore, I suggest we begin conscripting as we did during the Chaos. We can also expand their scope and scale by lowering standards.” There were grumbles among Kenneth’s supporters. Internal Security Chief Pamala whispered something into Kenneth’s ear. “The first of our new conscripts should be from outside our walls, especially those settlements in the south, before they are lost to the Brotherhood. Once we have regained our strength, we can invade our former allies and conscript among their populations as well.”
Kenneth rose from his seat. “We relied on our compact with our neighbors, our coalition of lesser equals, because we did not have the strength to subjugate them outright. We could have done so with the army we assembled, but that strength is gone now and will not return because you put guns into the hands of the elderly and the youth.
“Furthermore, this plan of yours doesn’t take into account what the Brotherhood might do while we’re distracted in the North. Our former allies will fight us and they will not surrender easily. We will stretch ourselves thin enough for the Brotherhood to force their way into Warden City.”
“Do you propose that we allow the traitors to go unpunished?” Elliott responded imperiously, nose raised to the air.
“The raiders must be punished of course, for their murder of their warden attaches. However, a few penetrating raids into their territories can bring them back under our heels. Meanwhile, the Mariners and the Castellans were the only groups to return their attaches to us safely, they can be negotiated with. As for the Brotherhood, we can buy ourselves time by harassing-”
“There will be no negotiations!” Julius declared suddenly and stood from his seat, his hands on the armrests as he struggled with the effort. “A blizzard is coming to Seattle and the Wardens will withstand it as we have done for 200 years. By fighting, not by negotiating.”
Julius’ gnarled visage twisted further with pure and utter disgust, directed at his old friend as he left the chamber through a back door. Kenneth stood there and crossed his arms as Elliott followed behind the Warden General, his smile overtly showing his disdain for the man he just supplanted as Julius’ right hand.
Julius and Kenneth had their own peculiarities with how they led the Wardens, over the years that Sylvia could still remember. The ones she had actually been alive for. Elliott, however, was ambitious as he was mortal. There was no telling what he might do with Julius’ blessing.
Kenneth called out as soon as Julius and Elliott were gone. “Trusky, I am bringing volunteers South. We will scavenge what we can from the wounded. Hopefully, we can bring home a few stragglers as well. If any others wish to join me with their men, be at the Western gate within the hour.” He stormed out through the door Sylvia had entered.
“It’s only going to get worse.” William said, shaking his head. “Will you be joining Kenneth?”
“No, someone needs to help sort through our casualties and bring news to their families. And to watch over the wounded at the hospital. Maybe I can gather donations to supply them with what the Wardens can’t. Better than nothing. Rags for bandages would be easy enough, but the hardest part would be acquiring alcohol.”
“There’s a few moonshine distilleries scattered around Seattle that we could barter with.”
“Are there? And you’re sure they’ll comply?”
“Oh yeah, if they know what’s good for them.”
Sylvia shot William a warning look. It was obscured by her mask, but he knew what she was thinking. “If we need to, it’s not the first resort. Wouldn’t want to scare them away, they’ve been supplying my company with their booze for a while now.”
“How come I don’t know about your secret moonshine distilleries?”
William shrugged. “They’re not mine.” He leaned in to whisper into her ear. “And they don’t pay any taxes.”
Sylvia pushed him away and checked if anyone was looking at them. “If anyone finds out, their production would probably be diverted away from the hospital again.”
“Or burned down.”
“That too. We’ll also need a way to account for any surplus. How did you do it?”
“Bribes from Mercer Island that I shared with Kenneth and a few of the admins.” William said without a shred of hesitation. “Can’t use that excuse anymore though. What?”
“You’re too comfortable cavorting with all those men. They’ll rub off on you.”
“The ISC got a share too.”
“Ah, so it wasn’t all men rubbing off on you?”
William chuckled. “Don’t say it like that. It was just some moonshine.”
“And I didn’t get a share? I’m disappointed, Mister Harlowe.” William scratched at the stubble on his chin and Sylvia sighed. “Okay, out with it.”
“Technically, you always get a share. I trade some moonshine to get that brandy you like.”
“So that’s how you do it. I thought they were gifts from Ada at the general store. I’ve been dropping by and thanking her, but she doesn’t say anything. Does she know?”
“Yeah, I had to bribe her too. You wouldn’t have accepted the brandy if you knew. Right?”
“I suppose not.” Sylvia crossed her arms. “But then, what’s the real reason the moonshiners give you anything?”
“Bribes to keep their secrets, it’s a whole thing. Since they don’t pay taxes, their prices are more affordable, but they still end up with a surplus of moonshine they’re not able to sell. Their stockpiles keep for a long while and their surplus is too much for them to drink on their own, so they pay me off with some of that. The total number adds up because of how many distilleries there are.”
“I’m not exactly thrilled to rely on tax-evading moonshiners, but it’s better than nothing. Good job, William.” Sylvia said and William smiled broadly.
“Leave it to me, Mister Reliable.”
“We’ll have to talk about your constant lying and all the bribery you’ve been committing, but yeah. Good job, Mister Reliable.”
William’s smile turned from broad and cheery to lopsided and chastised. He had always been too brash for his own good, bribery the least of his crimes, but he had come a long way from the raider he used to be.
Sylvia tapped on William’s arm, a gesture to follow behind her as she spoke. “We’ll have to smuggle the moonshine into the city, but maybe Elliott handed us our excuse to enter and leave the city without looking too suspicious. How do you feel about a joint training exercise?”