Alter and Boozehound didn’t have far to go before they rushed onto the scene. Whim was lying on the floor next to the door flap of one of the slightly larger supply tents at the far corner of the right hand row. The bodies of both unaccounted for bandits that had been seen following Murgo were splayed out nearby with blood draining from their expired bodies. Walross knelt over Whim’s unconscious form and was in the process of removing the rifleman’s helmet. Pavejack was standing nearby doing his best to cover all angles, his wide eyes desperately flicking between the silent tents. Alter slid to a halt a couple of metres before he would’ve crashed into Walross, spinning on his heel he raised his rifle to cover the direction they had arrived from and reached for the radio.
“Two, cease your search and fall back to the gate. Hold security there until we’re ready to pull out. Both known hostiles are down but I’m not risking any further ambushes. No one else is getting hurt today, understood?” He ordered.
“Affirm.” Riptide responded quickly.
“Any movement, Four?”
“Scope is clear. Oliver and the girl are waiting just outside the fort.” Boats reported in a worried voice.
“Alright. What happened, Six?”
“We were clearing the tents on left hand side, I had just stepped into the one opposite us when these two fuckers burst out behind me. One of them managed to catch Simon in the side of the head with that club on the floor over there. He was out like a light, but his helmet seems to have taken the worst of the blow.” Walross explained grimly.
“Bastards actually did something smart. What about the tent they came out of?”
“Looks like they use it for storage. There are piles of boxes, crates and barrels inside, it would’ve given them plenty of places to hide. My guess is they realised we were checking too carefully for them to get away with that plan so they went with the next best thing.” Pavejack answered.
“Three. Assessment?”
Boozehound clucked his tongue as he examined the wound and began rummaging in his medical bag.
“Six is pretty much correct, blunt force trauma to the side of the skull. Fortunately it looks worse than it is, the skull itself was shielding by the helmet. He’ll have one hell of a lump, there could also be some fractures but I don’t have the ability to tell. His jaw is a mess but I don’t think it's broken. It could be dislocated though. Mmmm … hang on one moment.”
There were a series of suspiciously damp sounding noises as Boozehound fiddled with Whim’s loose jaw, followed by a muted pop.
“Well, that went better than I thought. My assessment is that he’ll be fine other than some discomfort for the next few days. I need a couple of minutes to disinfect and dress the wound, then I can jolt him and we can get moving.” Boozehound continued.
Alter breathed a heavy sigh of relief at the news that Whim’s life was not in danger. Still, it did not stop him from silently reprimanding himself for his lax decision making. Too quickly he had fallen into video game routine, too quickly he had forgotten the potential consequences of his orders. He needed to do better.
“Eight and I are back at the gate, nothing moving. I’m looking at three more horses tied up nearby, they look in just as bad condition as the ones from our first contact. Permission to set them loose?” Riptide called over the radio, bringing Alter out of his introspection.
“Granted.” He replied, they weren’t going to take the animals with them and he was damned if they were just going to leave them here tied up and starving.
“Are we going to keep sweeping the place?” Pavejack asked from behind him.
“No, like I told Two I’m not risking anyone else.” Alter paused in thought for a moment. “Actually, scratch that. We need to secure our immediate area, the two of us are going to check out the supply tent they were hiding in. Six, take over security.”
“Got it.”
The two men paced carefully into the tent and paused to listen. Other than the sound of their own breathing and Boozehound’s quiet efficiency there was nothing out of the ordinary. A quick hand signal and they moved further, ensuring that every nook, cranny and opened box had a gun barrel stuffed into it at least once. Satisfied that no bandits were about to pop out and shank anyone, Alter relaxed and started rummaging through the crates in the hopes of finding something useful. The majority of the boxes contained dry foodstuffs, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking at most of the time but he was fairly sure that various unprocessed cereal grains made up the bulk. Had they been using this stuff to feed the horses? Other boxes contained flour of various colours and consistencies, with the remainder housing concrete-hard biscuits and rapidly decaying root vegetables.
“Nothing of real use over here, how about you?” He asked.
“All the barrels are filled with water, which makes sense. I wouldn’t trust it though.” Pavejack answered.
“We could always find a way to boil it but I agree. How’s your canteen looking?”
“Full enough to last the day and maybe half of tomorrow. Oh hey! Sebastian what happened to you?” The other man reached into one of the barrels and pulled the limp form of a crustacean from the water.
“A crab? Weird.” Alter remarked.
“And more than one. All dead though. Maybe we’re near the ocean?”
“We could well be. How else would a group of bandits wind up with them?”
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The conversation was halted by the sudden sound of Whim spluttering back into consciousness like a car on a chilly winter's morning. Alter turned back and poked his head out to see Boozehound gently raising him into a sitting position.
“Easy, easy. Try not to talk right now, just give me a nod so that I know you understand what I’m saying.” The medic spoke softly.
Whim took a couple of seconds to let his still glazed-over eyes recover and regain focus before he nodded gingerly.
“Do you know what your name is?”
Another nod.
“And mine?”
Boozehound rattled off a dozen simple questions which were all met with nods as Whim continued to gain confidence.
“What happened?” He asked, speech slightly slurred as his hand massaged his recently pummelled jawline.
“You got your clocks cleaned. Don’t worry you’re going to be fine. Honestly I consider the fact that you can’t speak easily to be an improvement.”
“Hey fuck you.” Whim threw a soft jab at the frenchman’s ribs and tried to fight down a smile. “And thanks.” He added sheepishly.
“Just doing my job eh? Let’s get you up. Take my arm, I don’t know how good your balance is going to be right now.”
As one the pair slowly rose, sure enough Whim immediately clutched the other man’s shoulder as he took a shaky step. He shook his head.
“Dammit, it feels like I’m at sea. Was the sun always so … angry?” He looked up, squinting heavily.
“All common side effects.”
Alter watched them make meandering but steady progress in the direction of the gate. Stepping out of the tent fully he looked around trying to observe the fort with fresh eyes. Eventually he relented and signalled Pavejack and Walross to follow him after the others. They could spend the rest of the day searching through this place in the hopes of finding a clue to what happened but what were the chances really? These people weren’t exactly scholars. Nor were they particularly alive to be asked questions.
Stepping back into the still enclosed but much wider area of the basin they reunited with Oliver and Chloe. The girl, Alter placed her at around fifteen, awkwardly thanked them for rescuing her while hiding behind the young lord’s back. A brief conversation concluded that there was no further business to be conducted here and Alter radioed up to Boats and Lucille to collect the climbing gear and meet up with the main party when they could. It was slow progress across the basin but Whim was becoming more confident with every passing minute and soon enough he was walking unassisted. Alter found himself looking backwards toward the fort, his mind still lingering on the water they had left behind. He voiced his thoughts to Oliver but he reassured him that water was not as scarce as the dry land made it out to be. Alter decided not to pursue the topic further and the group fell into comfortable silence.
Finally they made it into the shade of the rocky passage. Alter was no geologist but the swirling patterns of the rosy pink rock had a strange, hypnotic comfort to them. ‘Strata Therapy’. It had a nice ring to it. Five minutes later they re-emerged into the late afternoon sun and were immediately greeted by Lucille running towards them at full speed and flinging herself into Chloe’s arms. The sobbing pair fell to their knees in relieved embrace as the rest looked on with surprised smiles. Boats jogged up a moment later with the horse in tow.
“What happened to you?” He asked the lop-faced Whim.
“I joined a club. Literally.”
“You look … suitably asymmetrical.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Conversations took off in a number of different directions as the tension of the last few hours began to melt away. Soon enough Alter was called over by Oliver for a separate discussion.
“I cannot thank you enough for the actions of both you and your unit today.” He began.
“Think nothing of it, we were just doing what was right.” Alter responded on reflex.
“Oh but I do. Now, in regards to what happens next, I was hoping we could talk business.”
Alter’s breath caught in his throat, this was the moment where their efforts could pay off, or the moment they were left in the proverbial cold. He nodded at Oliver to continue.
“I would like to hire your unit on a more official and permanent basis. I will afford you food and lodging, in return you will use your skills and might to further my cause.” Oliver looked at him expectantly.
“I’m listening.”
“As you may have figured out from what Chloe said earlier, my proper name is Oliver Masserlind. I am the second son of Duke Bertrand Masserlind, Lord of Grenveine and Cereloss. You have encountered me in the middle of a struggle. You see, my father is ill, and will not last much longer. My older brother has fled our territories and left word that I should inherit the title.” Oliver paused for breath.
This was heavier stuff than Alter had originally bargained for. He had every intention of taking up the offer, he just hoped he wasn’t getting everyone in over their heads.
“However there is a problem. My uncle. He has declared that I am too young and inexperienced to govern such a large territory and has put forward the motion that he should act as the temporary head until I am considered able. This is, of course, a ploy. He will never surrender my father’s seat should he come to sit upon it.”
Alter could start to see where this was going but he held his tongue.
“I have resisted his efforts so far but he wields great influence amongst the nobles of the realm. Piece by piece I am being picked apart, soon I will not be able to stand against him. Were it not for Lucille’s family this whole business would already be over, but even their patience has limits. I need more allies, I need you.” Oliver finished, his eyes searched Alter’s face hopefully.
“I understand. Very well, your cause is ours.” Alter held out his hand for him to shake.
Oliver took it gleefully and the bargain was struck. Eager to give the good news, Oliver made his way back to the group to inform Lucille of their new agreement. Alter stood watching the rest for a while, mulling over what he’d just done.
Suddenly he froze as strangely familiar text began to appear in the centre of his vision. Bold white characters with black outlines in a stark font, it scrawled across his eyes no matter which way he looked. Lines appeared letter by letter like a typewriter.
MISSION STATUS // 8Hkio4374”@dfEE0 / UNDEFINED / ONGOING
CURRENT LOCATION // 4453 1638 / Adderbite Badlands / Eastern Rillestia
SQUAD STATUS //
SL / 1.Alterfate / OK
SL2 / 2.Riptide / OK
Mdc / 3.Boozehound / OK
Mks / 4.YaLikeBoats? / OK
MG / 5.Pavejack / OK
MGA / 6.WalrossDE / OK
Rfl (AT) / 7.Whimsical Bastard / Wounded (Light)
Rfl (AT) / 8.Vangroover / OK
NEW OBJECTIVE ADDED //
-Secure the Masserlind Succession
RESUPPLY // APPROVED / LIMITED / 00:00
Alter gazed mutely at the words he saw before him.
“Huh.” Was the best he could manage.