Kyle looked up at the looming wall before him, letting out a small breath. He wondered why everybody seemed to assume he’d recognize Resistance territory when he got there, and now he understood. A 20-meter-high earthwork wall crossed the rolling hills as far as the eye could see. He could feel the mana radiating from the slate-gray stone as goblins and trolls alike prowled the top. From what C.H.A.D.D.’s scans indicated, there were guard stations at regular intervals with more on the opposite side of the wall.
It was hard to wrap his head around the sheer cost in resources it must take to keep a defense like this running; and was even more curious about why the mysterious D’Oilellat would prioritize it so heavily. The Council of Er’Mithren implied that she’d been fighting them to try and reclaim her throne, and though Kyle was no tactical mastermind, he had a hard time seeing how the defensive position before him accomplished any of that.
Walking closer, he could hear a deep voice shouting from the top of the wall as a troll called down to his companions, then turned to regard Kyle. “Either you’re the ugliest damn troll I ever met, or you’re the Courier we’ve been waiting for.”
A little taken aback at the jab, Kyle took a moment to compose himself, using Identify on the troll. Late E Grade, looks to be a Ranger type. Putting on a neutral mask, he responded. “Fortunately for me, I’m the latter. My name is Kyle Mayhew, and I’m here to bring a draft proposal for peace with the Er’Mithren Council to D’Oilellat. May I pass?”
The troll snorted. “I’m the guard captain for this section. You can stay right where you are while I get confirmation from the higher-ups. You understand why it’d be a bad idea for me to just let random people through, even if they are on business.”
“Do what you need to do,” Kyle said. “I’ll stay here, though if you or your men have the time, I’d be interested to know the history of this wall. The construction is incredible.”
The guard snorted again. “You’re telling me you don’t have walls where you’re from?”
A nostalgic smile crept across Kyle’s face as he thought back to Earth. “Only one that compares to what you have here. Is it to deter predators, like the shrikes?”
He smirked. “If you’d call the Er’Mithren Council predators, then sure. Not that it’s helped in the bigger attacks, but it keeps the unawakened bastards away, which is enough for me.”
“Sounds like there’s no love lost between you and the Council,” Kyle mused. “I take it most of you were part of the old regime?”
The troll shook his head. “Only some. Most of us were just regular people who were forced to choose a side. So, we did.”
Kyle wanted to ask more, but before he could get a word out, the troll turned and saluted as a goblin dressed in resplendent silver armor stepped atop the battlement. A quick use of Identify showed Kyle that the newcomer was far more powerful, resting comfortably in the middle of D Grade. The goblin’s Dexterity, Strength, and Intelligence were exceptional, and a look at the thin blade on his hip gave a very familiar impression. This goblin is using the same type of skills as the shrikes.
“I am Wall Commander Ra’zel, guardian of the gates and emissary of the rightful queen of Er’Mithren. I have been told that you’re the Courier who has been dragged into this mess.”
Kyle offered a respectful bow. “I’ve been given the opportunity to help broker peace.”
Ra’zel gave Kyle a withering stare. “And no doubt profit handsomely from your work. The Council may have thought this an appropriate solution, but understand that we are not convinced. In the spirit of cooperation, we will open the gates to you, and you will be escorted to meet her Majesty D’Oillelat.
“You will make your delivery, and you will wait under guard until a response has been drafted, at which point you will be escorted back to the wall. You will not be free to roam our lands as you have thus far. Is that understood, Courier?”
“It is, Wall Commander.”
With a gesture behind him, Kyle felt earth-infused mana flow into the wall as the runes illuminated; causing a section to rumble and separate. Kyle walked through the opening, where he saw 3 D Grades waiting, one of each of the goblinoid species.
The first, and largest among them was an ogre, who clearly had a variant Mage class. It wore thick brown robes and carried an intricately inscribed metal staff. Lightning affinity mana flowed through the ogre’s body, mixed with another affinity he couldn’t readily place.
Standing beside the ogre was a troll with what looked to be a straightforward Fighter-type class. Impressive Strength and Endurance coupled with the troll’s naturally high Vitality, and he expected that this troll on its own could easily handle the 2 troll guards Kyle met before. Scarred metal armor covered the troll, who also wore a buckler shield on his left arm, and a double-bearded axe strapped to his back.
The final member of the group was a goblin woman, small even for their diminutive species. She was wrapped from head to toe in black fabric that seemed to shift colors as she stood, and Kyle could tell that she was a Ranger type. While she wore no weapons outwardly, the mana he detected from several places on her person made it clear that she was well-armed.
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Ra’Zel gestured to the trio of goblinoids. “This is Drokh, Ver’ah, and Hanastrel. They will serve as your guides and supervisors during your time moving through our lands. Understand that any treachery will not be tolerated.” His hard eyes fixed on Kyle for a long moment before he looked toward the heartlands of the resistance. “Now, go. The sooner your errand is done, the better.”
Kyle nodded to the goblin, before turning to his entourage. It was abundantly clear that he wasn’t welcome, and he chose his words carefully, aiming to show respect without displaying weakness. “I’ll be in your care. I want to see this business done as well, and I thank you all for your efforts to complete it.”
There was a brief pause at words, then Drokh, the ogre, gave a rumbling reply. “Come on. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
Drokh and Ver’ah, the troll, led the way as they followed a narrow path to a larger road, while Hanastrel, the goblin Ranger, followed behind. Even with Synaptic Barbs and Auric Perception, Kyle found it was a little unnerving leaving a dangerous person walking directly behind him. She was clearly trying to stay right in his blind spots as he moved, though he could feel her presence clearly. She’s got a long way to go before she’s at Jarberry’s level, Kyle mused.
Unlike the roads leading away from Er’Mithren, the interior road the group now followed was packed with individual travelers and supply convoys. Large lizards pulled wagons full of rations, and dozens of peddlers set up at the various crossroads to sell their wares. The roads themselves were far more worn-down than the ones in the jungle, with broken stones and exposed earth making the travel rougher.
That, and the large crowds that continually stopped to gawk at them as they journeyed. Kyle got more than a few looks, but more than that was the general awe that people showed toward his escort. While these 3 were among the most powerful D Grades Kyle had encountered, he didn’t expect that they were at the level where they had genuine celebrity status.
Everywhere they walked, traffic slowed and heads turned. Several groups even cheered when they saw Drokh, and got even louder when Ver’ah lumbered into sight. Once they had a moment when the road was clear, Kyle’s curiosity got the best of him. “The people here are treating you like heroes. If I can ask, what happened to earn you this reputation?”
Ver’ah turned his head to look at Kyle, with a wide grin on his face. “We’ve had our fair share of fights to protect these people. Hanastrel back there has stopped no fewer than a dozen attacks on our Queen, one of which was at a public address. I helped hold the lines more than a few times before the wall got constructed, and Drokh –“
“-Would tell you to stop talking. Now.” The ogre’s voice was a deep growl, and Ver’ah raised his hands in a placating gesture.
“Whatever you say. Your story’s not mine to tell.” He gave Kyle a conspiratorial look, and in a whisper clearly intended for Hanastrel and Drokh to hear, said, “But it’s a pretty good one nonetheless.”
That earned him a disapproving glare from the ogre, and they kept walking in silence down the road.
About midday, they came across the first real settlement Kyle had seen in Resistance territory. Broken and damaged stone was patched with lumber, and he could make out hundreds of tents spread out along the outskirts of the ramshackle buildings. Peddlers were still plentiful, though many of their goods appeared to be modest rations and basic healing poultices.
As he looked out at the huddled crowds, he came to a chilling realization. Virtually all of the people he could see near the tents or other buildings were elderly, infirm, or adolescent. There weren’t many events that would leave so few able-bodied people behind, and none of them were good.
As if reading his mind, the goblin said, “Take a good look at the price of your peace, Courier. Its cost is already higher than any wished to pay.” Hanastrel’s voice was quiet, and Kyle realized that she’d been watching him look out at the settlement.
“What happened to these people?” Kyle asked.
“The Council happened. It wasn’t enough to depose King Railen’ellat, the Council wanted to stamp out any embers of dissent. The people you see here are the remnant left behind in their wake.”
Kyle let those words sink in for a minute as they walked through the settlement. A hollow look he missed before was clear to him on many of the faces; people who had known more loss than they should have. He thought about what these survivors must have gone through, and kept coming back to a single question. “If a peace is negotiated, will these people really be able to accept it? After everything they’ve been through?”
He half-expected Hanastrel to dismiss his question outright, or admonish him for asking. Instead, in a small voice, she said, “The only reason her Majesty is willing to negotiate is for their sake.”
~~~
The dark mass of tangling vines slowly crept through the jungle’s canopy. Countless tendrils reached out to pull its bulk from tree to tree, picking up hundreds of thousands of its discarded cuttings, and leaving fresh ones in their place. Its vines had a short, but effective life. They hunted the prey, held the nutrients, and were reabsorbed into the mass. So had the pattern continued for thousands and thousands of years.
War, politics, and betrayals meant nothing to the mass as it continued its endless cycle across the canopy. All within its grasp were prey, and that was enough. Its cycle continued, uninterrupted, until it came across an oddity. Dead husks.
Now, the occasional dead cutting was to be expected. The infernal shrikes had adapted to slice the vines away, to escape the grasping clutches. But this, this was different. Dozens of husks had died, simply withered away. No, nothing like this had ever happened before in its long memory.
The roiling tendrils slowed, moving deeper into the jungle, reabsorbing more and more of its dead cuttings. Until it found the lowest of the dead, a lone stranglevine that was just close enough to reach the road. The dark mass descended, absorbing this final cutting back into itself. And it tasted… it tasted… good.
Delicious.
Sublime.
It was just a whisper, a hint, but this cutting had touched upon a mana that the mass instinctively knew was of the highest order, the highest quality. Mana tinged with gold; mana that could allow the mass to accomplish the impossible. To ascend.
The entire jungle seemed to shake for just a moment as the mass shuddered in ecstasy, then dispersed. Desire flooded it for the first time it could remember. It would search for the flavor. It would find it. It would consume it.