As we walked, Annabelle played. It was hard to call the things that had she played 'songs', both due to the fact that, thankfully, she never seemed to sing and likewise that the music had little overall structure to it. It wasn't random, by any stretch, but there were no verses or chorus, simply notes which flowed well from one another but constantly evolved into entirely new patterns which, as soon as you had gotten used to their general tune, would gradually shift into a new one altogether. As much as it hurt to admit it, I couldn't deny that she was quite good. Not only were the gentle notes pleasing to the ear (a seemingly essential part of being a bard, yet one which a surprising number of them neglect), the other effects, while less tangible, were undeniable. My body felt lighter, my mind more at ease and I didn't seem to notice myself growing hungry or tired, even as we had continued our march for, well, certainly much further than I had ever traveled before. Possibly more than I had ever traveled in all my previous journeys combined, even if that isn't quite as impressive as it might sound. The sense of general peace was a pleasant one. It was almost possible to forget that we were all almost certainly walking to our inevitable demise. Almost, but not quite. I wasn't the only one that felt that way, clearly. Tensions seemed to dissolve, with even someone like Samson who was constantly on edge appearing to let his guard down. Not only that, but every once in a while the eyes of the cultist followers would actually leave their master, instead turning to the young bard who cradled the neck of her instrument under her chin and nestled the wooden object in her arms as though it were an infant, certainly with no less love.
Meryll was an immediate fan, although I would have penned her for more the sort that was into drunken and bawdy tavern songs than the soft and soulful instrumental work. Maybe taking the bard along wasn't such a bad idea, but still, I was very much skeptical. She might have been well suited to a peaceful hike through the wilderness like we were partaking in right now, but how she would fare in the middle of a chaotic battlefield was another matter entirely. Honestly, how any of us would fare under those inevitable conditions was hard to tell. I couldn't say that I, personally, held any delusions about my abilities to remain perfectly calm under pressure. Sure, we would all like to believe that when times are tough that we'll make brave and calculated decisions, but history has consistently shown otherwise. Many people avoid this realization due to the belief that they are somehow special, better than other people. The reality though? We're all 'other people', and for any mistake that any mouse has ever made in the past, no matter how obviously stupid it was in hindsight, we are all very much capable of making that same mistake should we find ourselves under similar conditions.
Perhaps Meryll had similar thoughts? It would certainly explain why she had approached both Annabelle and Dave, calling me over as well. By this point, evening was beginning to set in, and we all took shelter under some thick brush for the night. As soon as the music had stopped, my muscles began to ache, and I, along with everyone else, clearly, found ourselves quite appreciative for the chance to rest.
"Here. Take these." the heavily armed mouse said. She was soon to be marginally less heavily armed, as she was holding out a trio of plastic daggers, handle first, offered to each of us. The silent male mouse just watched and nodded, but didn't raise a paw to accept it. Meryll had made an effort to manually place it within his hand, but he either refused to or was incapable of closing his fingers over the handle, instead, simply letting it fall uselessly onto the ground. She let out a disappointed but not entirely surprised sigh, picking up the dropped weapon, promptly giving up on him, instead focusing her efforts on myself and the bard. Dave, naturally, seemed to take no offense to this. Of course Annabelle had no idea of what she was even expected to be reaching for, and thus remained still. As for me, I simply shook my head.
"I'm not a fighter." I said, plainly. Even aside from not having any desire to take the lives of others, as I'd stated many times before, it isn't my place to. I'm just an observer, and it isn't my job to help lead us to victory or defeat. A tough position to be in, as, for many reasons, I'd obviously much rather our little band win the day.
"I'm not asking you to fight any battles or anything." Meryll said, although there was just a hint of derision hidden within her tone, as though she felt that I was a coward or something. I had the sneaking suspicion that she wouldn't have used that tone had it been Annabelle who said those words. "Still, you should have a weapon on you. Just in case you find yourself in a bad situation. You don't need to use it, but it will give you options, if nothing else."
I couldn't really argue with that. I knew full well that as much as I had claimed to be a non-combatant, there was no guarantee that the enemy would accept that reasoning. If they proved to be as vicious and dangerous as rumors stated, they might instead relish the opportunity to cut down someone who was unwilling to fight back. This was a dangerous job, and while I went into it knowing that my life was very much at risk, I had no intention of throwing it away needlessly. I both wished to keep living, of course, and to fulfill my duty as a scribe, which was to remain alive long enough to tell the story. Which, of course, I did. By now there have been a few points in this story which I hadn't been around for. These were sometimes intuited based on my existing knowledge, but were other times written after the fact as I had learned more. This means, of course, that I survive to the end of this tale. Should I ever find myself in a dangerous situation, however, do try to forget this little fact, for the sake of maintaining tension.
I nodded my head, taking the plastic blade within my paw. It felt oddly heavy. It was no larger and certainly no more dense than the tools I'd used to cut foods or paper in the past, but it certainly felt that way. I had seen blades before, of course. Simply looking in the general direction of Meryll will offer a clear view of at least a dozen, after all, but holding it in my paw felt so much different. That sense of awareness of what it truly was, and what that entailed. This was a device not designed to cut plants or materials, but rather to cut flesh. To draw blood. To cause pain. To destroy lives. Just holding it made me feel a little bit dirty, but it was somehow empowering all the same. Sure, I was still the same weak bodied pacifist that I had always been, but by holding this I found myself acutely aware of the fact that, if need be, I could fight. Long past fantasies I had grown out of about being a hero, saving the day, defeating the villain popped into my mind, even as the more rational part of my brain told me that they were silly. Then, there were the darker thoughts as well. Imagining how it would feel to have an edge just like this slowly driven into my neck or my gut, or slice along my skin.
This introspective mood was promptly broken by Annabelle, as she rose to her feet. "Oh, good point. I guess I'd better take one... oops!" she squeaked, tripping and falling forward. She never fell gracefully, never seeming to almost catch herself. Each time she landed so hard that it was a wonder that she never found herself injured. It was little wonder that she fell over so often. Aside from being blind, I can only imagine that the fact that one of her legs was a little bit longer than the other didn't help matters. Strangely, the leg which was longer seemed to regularly change from day to day. In response to this, both I and Meryll looked to one another in agreement.
"Hmmm, maybe you shouldn't be handling any sharp objects." the warrior woman said. As for the young bard, she nodded her head in agreement but still looked to be just a little bit disappointed. Still, even she couldn't deny the reality that such an object was far more likely to cause injury to herself or an ally than an enemy. It might have been better for Dave to remain unarmed for similar reasons. He wasn't nearly as clumsy as the blind bard, but it was still a dangerous item to be wielded by someone of potentially very limited comprehension.
"Huh, maybe I should take some sort of weapon, too." Jebediah approached, having overheard the discussion. Not that that was a difficult task, as we weren't exactly a massive and well-spaced group. Even if Mollenoch's forces were in the opposite direction from where we were traveling, there were still no shortage of dangers which dwelled beyond the city walls, and none dared wander off too far alone. As a result, It was virtually impossible to not be within earshot of everyone else in the band.
"Don't you already have a weapon?" Meryll asked. Jeb looked to her with confusion, looking about, patting down his overalls, as though perhaps he had some sort of bastard sword or trebuchet hidden on his person without ever realizing it. He stopped as he noticed that her eyes were set on the wooden scythe set over his shoulder, and took on an expression I'd never seen on that plain face of his. Well, he was not the most expressive individual at best, so there were a lot of expressions I'd never seen him make. In this case, he looked downright appalled.
"What, this?" He said, removing the long scythe, holding it within his paws, examining it. Despite the fact that it was just a single piece of solid wood, including the blade, the craftsmanship was fairly impressive and it had obviously been well maintained and equally well used. "This isn't a weapon, it's a tool!"
"It's big, sharp, and you swing it around in your paws." Meryll said. "That sounds like a weapon to me."
Personally, I would have thought than an aficionado of weaponry like herself would have had a somewhat more stringent definition. Still, it was hard to argue with her logic.
"No, no, no." the farmer shook his head, clearly doing his absolute best to understand her reasoning but utterly failing. In his defense, I did sort of get it. Maybe I wouldn't have just a day before, even an hour before, but ever since I held that dagger in my hand, the universe of difference between something designed to kill and a simple tool became quite apparent, even if it was, mechanically, quite similar to the simple household knives which I had used so many times before. "This is made for cutting grass, not flesh. Why, using a scythe on a mouse would be like... it would be like..." he furrowed his brow, turning to me. "You're a scribe. What would be a good example of a tool used for an unsuitable purpose?"
"Um..." I paused, thinking. "Eating soup with a hammer?"
The farmer caught me off guard as he burst into loud laughter, wiping a tear from his eye, actually giving his overall clad knee a firm slap. "Heh, that's a good one. How would that even work? I guess you could dip the head on it into a bowl, and let it soak then drip the soup into your mouth, right? But that would take all day!" he chuckled, before shaking his head and letting out a soft sigh. "I suppose it could be used on people. There's no shortage of stories of mice being injured or killed by pitchforks and other tools, sometimes by accident, but also deliberately, more often than I'd care to believe. Obviously, this can cut more than just grass. Still, it's an object designed for a set purpose: It cuts what it needs to, and there's no shortage of things out there made to cut down people. I guess in practice it would be a little easier than eating soup with a hammer, but it's still the same general idea. It's just wrong."
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"I... see..." Meryll said, speaking slowly, her eyes locked onto him. It was quite clear that she didn't really understand, but had no desire to argue nonetheless.
She held out the extra dagger which he gladly accepted. For the moment, at least. He gripped it within his work-calloused paws, lifting it up and down, wearing an intense expression before finally sighing once more, shaking his head, offering it back. "Nope. Afraid it just doesn't feel right. No offense to you, Miss Meryll, but it would seem that I'm just not built the same way as you. I suppose, at heart, I'm a bit of a tool myself, and just like this scythe of mine, there's some things I'm built for, and some things I'm just not. Me using a knife or a sword would be like..." he paused once more. "Well, like eating soup with a hammer."
"You just used that analogy." I said.
"I know! I really like it!" he chuckled, apparently getting the mental image into his head once again. Meryll looked rather disappointed in him, but I had trouble arguing with the idea. Well, maybe I'm not entirely on board with the whole tool versus weapon concept, even if I understood the concept, but he was probably better off not fighting anyways. There are no shortage of tales out there about the mighty general leading the charge, but in reality, the person leading the charge is also the one most likely to die, and the loss of the leader of the force represents a significant blow to the army on multiple levels. A leader offers far more value as a strategist or even just a symbol to boost morale, than they would as a single extra soldier among many. He looked to the armored woman and wore a soft smile. "I hope I didn't disappoint you too much. I imagine you'd rather follow a strong fighter like Jerin, but, well... I'm afraid that just isn't me. Worse, I guess it places an even greater burden on stronger warriors like yourself. Still, I hope I can count on you to help keep all of us safe."
Meryll's dismay vanished in an instant. I suppose that not being a proper team player can have its benefits. One who fancies themselves a hero doesn't wish to stand alongside equals, they want to save the day, and the more difficult a task that is, the better. She smiled, nodded her head and went down on one knee in a pose that might have looked properly knightly coming from virtually anyone else. "Of course." she said. "I swear upon my swords, I will fight to the last breath to keep you, to keep all of you safe from harm."
"Well, be sure to spare a breath or two for yourself. While I may not be some master of the sword or be able to shoot fireballs or... whatever else it is that hero types are known for doing." Jeb said, "I'm hardly an expert, after all, I'll do what I can as well. Maybe it's not the most heroic attitude, but I'm going to need to rely on you, on everyone. That means that your last breath? Well, it had better be a long, long time from now." He gave an almost confident smile. "That's an order."
The heavily armored woman didn't look to the farmer with the same expression which she had held when talking about Jerin earlier, but then that was a rather high standard which none could reasonably have been expected to meet. Still, it wasn't as far short as one might expect. I felt like my earlier impressions of her were mistaken. Well, some of them, anyways. I had earlier dismissed her as a thug and a brute, but that wasn't quite right, was it? She was a would-be hero, and what does a hero want above all else? It isn't strength or power. What they want is to feel useful and important. They want someone to protect. Whether through dumb luck or careful thought, Jebediah had won the virtually undying loyalty of this amazon with just a few simple words. Frankly, neither explanation really sat well with me. Maybe there was a third option, but damned if I knew what it would be. Still, the result was the same.
The humble farmer was elevated a bit in my eyes. Not a lot, but a bit. As much as I would have loved to accept that he was actually some brilliant, natural strategist, one look at his goofy, inattentive expression kind of spoiled that. I somehow doubt he was that good of an actor. Still, maybe, just maybe, there was something more than meets the eye, I thought as I watched the three happily chatting with one another, seemingly without a care in the world. I didn't need to look too far, however, to see that while it was a very good start, full party unity wouldn't come quite so easily.
Samson sat some distance away, off by himself, of course, but clearly eavesdropping on the conversation. It was quite obvious that he was not the least bit pleased with what he had heard. While hardly a new idea, all that he heard was verification of our leader refusing to properly contribute. Unlike Meryll, he obviously had no desire to protect others, and hearing such talk did nothing to raise his spirits. He scowled from the distance, making a point to not actually involve himself in the discussion, but making his feelings very well known all the same.
"It's good to see them getting along." an unexpected guest said. Even he seemed surprised when the heavyset priestess took a seat next to him on the small log.
"Yeah, it's just great. Maybe they can share a burial plot, when we're all killed by the shadow king." he spat, not even so much as turning his head to acknowledge the woman. Whether she was unaware that her presence was unwanted or simply choose to ignore this was unclear.
"I don't see why you're so pessimistic. It's quite obvious that fortune shines upon us." she said, her head lowered. Normally one would take this gesture to be one of shyness or discomfort, but the cultists always pray while looking to their feet.
"What, did that God of yours tell you that we're going to win?" the green garbed mouse grumbled, "Because all I see are a pack of fools, who are poorly equipped on more levels than I can even count."
"No, I have received no divine edicts. Greater beings rarely tend to involve themselves in such conflicts, even those held in their name. Especially those held in their name, in fact. Don't make the mistake of assuming that we believe nothing but religious dogma. We are all quite capable of making our own judgments based off of the existing evidence. Perhaps you see a pack of fools, and perhaps you are not entirely wrong, but I have already seen us growing ever stronger. Ever closer." she looked up to the trio who were oblivious to the fact that they are being watched by the pair. I, of course, took full notice of this. "Now, maybe we are not exactly an elite fighting force, quite yet, but things are looking better than they did when you first joined this crusade, are they not?"
"That's not saying much. This 'crusade' is still a senseless and suicidal one. It is hardly a wonder that none but the literal blind and fanatical have decided to partake in it."
"And which category would you put yourself in?" Sellas asked, looking to him with her rather creepily wide eyes. "You might be half blind, but you hardly come off as fanatical."
Samson, aka Samuel, aka Smirk simply sat, quietly fuming. I suspect that had he come up with a clever retort in his head, he would have made it without hesitation, but instead simply he pretended to ignore the question, treating it as beneath his notice. He clearly hoped that this would signal the end of the conversation, but in truth, he should have known better.
"It is clear that you hold no particular loyalties to the kingdom, nor any other organization, or, dare I say it, even a philosophical viewpoint. I can similarly tell that you are not the sort who is afraid of getting their hands dirty, so you have no fear of being branded a deserter. Not that such a title even means anything, as there has been no official oath of loyalty or payment rendered." she continued to speak, as though oblivious to the fact that the conversation had become one sided. "That just leaves one possible explanation."
"Oh yeah?" He sneered, knowing full well that the best course of option was to ignore the woman, but unable to resist the urge to speak up. "And what's that?"
"It's simple. You could go anywhere and do anything, but yet, here you are. It stands to reason that there is nowhere that you would rather be."
The one-eyed mouse laughed aloud at this, a sound I had yet to hear from him since our journey had begun. I can't claim that it was a pleasant sounding noise, instead coming off as warped as his smile. "You are the worst motivational speaker I've ever heard. It's like you're trying to convince me to leave."
"Oh, please. We both know better than that. We also both know that you're not going anywhere. You wished to be a part of this group, when they were at their smallest and their situation at its most dire." the priestess, Sellas nodded her head, eyes returning to the earth, "It would be irrational for your mind to change now that our forces have been bolstered, even if only slightly. Perhaps things are not perfect, but we have more allies and more resources than we had when this journey first began. Progress in the right direction is always a positive thing. If you didn't leave then, why would you now?"
The white furred male sighed, shaking his head. "You're not wrong. Well, your positivity is downright aggressively wrong, but as for me, well, you're not wrong. I'm here because I have nowhere else to go."
"Such a foolish statement." Sellas sighed back, resulting in an annoyed glare from the former court magician. "Do you have any idea of just how many places there are out there? Far more than any of us could count. I can't begin to imagine that you have made enemies upon every corner of this great earth, although admittedly, if you had, it would be quite impressive. No, you might wish to pretend that this was your only option, and that you were somehow forced to be here, but the truth is obvious to anyone who cares to look."
"Oh, really? An what is this great and obvious 'truth'? I suppose you would be an expert on the concept, wouldn't you?" he said.
"Oh, no. Quite the contrary, in fact. Truth is a vast concept, after all, and as much as I would wish to, very little of it exists within my grasp. Again, however, it doesn't require divine intervention to read you like a book. You have no desire to serve, and even less desire to sacrifice yourself. People like me may be idealists, but you? You have always been a pragmatist, and you wouldn't be here unless you felt that there was something to be gained from it. Something that you were sorely missing. Something that you couldn't find anywhere else."
"I'm getting bored of your sermon. If you have something to say, just come out and say it. You've already wasted more than enough of my time."
"I have already said it. What you are looking for is all around you. You simply need to reach out and claim it." the woman smiled, looking into his purple eye. "But who knows? Perhaps in the end, you simply seek misery. You'd hardly be the first. Sure, it might not be the most rewarding thing to discover, but it's certainly easy to find in abundance, especially when one actively seeks it out. I suppose you'll do as you see fit, in the end. It''s not my job to tell anyone how to live their life."
"You're a priest. Telling people how to live their lives in pretty much your whole job." Samson replied, still sounding annoyed, but a lot of the earlier venom had diluted from his voice, perhaps simply worn down through attrition.
"That's a common misconception." Sellas said as she rose to her feet. "The job of a priest isn't to command people or tell them what to do. It's to help them realize it for themselves. In the end, it's your life and nobody else's. If you wish to spend it focused on bitterness and frustration and negativity, again, you'd be hardly the first. But I can only imagine that that road hasn't worked out for you very well, thus far. I know a greedy man when I see one, and I strongly suspect that you're looking for something more profitable than the low hanging fruit of misery and self loathing."
"Again with the blind optimism." Samson said. It was clear he had no idea why he had said such a thing, as he was more than ready for the conversation to be over. Still, it came out anyways. "Just because you're looking for something, doesn't mean that you'll find it."
"That's true." the priestess nodded, turning away, walking back towards her many disciples. "But it doesn't mean that you won't, either."
The one-eyed magician gave one last sneer in her direction as she departed, not that she noticed or would have paid it any mind if she had. As I said, It appeared that complete party unity wouldn't come quite so easily. Still, the leader of the Starman cultists wasn't wrong. It was hard to justify being pessimistic when things were slowly getting better. I could only pray that they would be good enough, when the time finally came.