Dinner was naturally nothing impressive, but it pleased our new 'guests', nonetheless. There were more than a few concerns about the appetite of the dark lord, both that it would require all of the food that we were carrying just to fill its massive stomach, or worse, that it would have no appetite for standard mouse cuisine, and decide, instead, to feed on us, instead. Neither proved to be the case. Most of us made a point of keeping our distance from the strange creature, but even towards the few that dared approach, such as Dave who had engaged the cat in a lengthy staring contest, the orange feline showed no hint of hostilities. As for its appetite, while it was certainly large enough to put any mouse's to shame, it wasn't unmanageable, especially considering the fact that we were particularly well stocked, having had no real idea of just how long our journey would take.
The trek still represented over a solid week of walking, but so far as we were concerned, it could easily have ended up being much more. For much of the trip there was the unspoken concern that Mollenoch and his army would arrive at the city before we had made it back, and that even if we were to gather the proper reinforcements, we would return to find naught but smouldering ruins, having missed the battle entirely. Based on the reports of our winged scouts, however, that seemed to be increasingly unlikely. This fact was, at once, both relieving and terrifying.
"How strange. He's not nearly as soft or as fluffy as I had expected." Annabelle said. She was among the few to dare approach Augustus, with Meryll in close proximity. The large mouse didn't appear to have much interest in the dark lord, neither as an ally or an opponent. Were it a little bit larger, I suspect that she would have been eager for any sort of excuse to fight it. For the moment, she was just keeping watch on the blind bard, acting as a sort of protector, just in case the comparatively large creature tried anything.
"You're petting his eye." Tanzra replied, sounding completely unconcerned. She stood alongside her mount, scruffing the thick, orange fur of his neck. As for Augustus, he seemed to be similarly unconcerned, simply enjoying the attention. The bard quickly adjusted her efforts, finding a patch of fur with no difficultly, the cat having no shortage of it, and resumed her petting. The reaction of the orange, striped cat was entirely unchanged, simply staring off into, apparently, two completely different sections of open space.
"So, um... what does he do? This dark lord of yours?" Meryll asked, studying the strange beast with a hopeful expression, likely wondering if there was more to the creature than met the eye, and whether, perhaps he could prove a worthwhile opponent after all.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"You know... does he shoot lightning from his eyes? Can he teleport? Breathe fire? Maybe reshape the earth around him into living statues which can fight on his behalf?" The large warrior asked, sounding all the more excited as she continued. As much as I would have loved to condemn her efforts, I couldn't entirely deny the validity of her line of questioning. Aside from being big, strong and nearly impervious to conventional weapons, as though that weren't bad enough, the dark lords were known for possessing a large variety of deadly and unnatural powers.
"Hmmm, no, I don't think he does any of that." The rider said, stepping in front of him. She looked to Augustus and smiled, leaning in close to his snout, continuing in a soft voice. "He does, however, have a terrible secret, unknown to anyone except for me..."
"Really?" Meryll perked up, apparently unswayed by the 'terrible' part, "What's that?"
"Well... don't tell anyone... but it turns out that Augustus here is actually..." Tanzra said in a soft voice,, looking into one of the feline's eyes before breaking into an extra wide smile, "The softest, cutest and most wonderful creature in the whole, entire world! Who's the cutest?"
The cat made an awkward smile. "Me..." it said in a somewhat low and somehow 'off' voice. I wasn't the only one caught off guard by this, as it was the first time it had spoken since we had met the pair.
"And who's the bestest?" she grinned, leaning in extra close, fluffing his cheeks with her comparatively tiny fingers.
"I am..." it smiled once again, its voice bearing just a hint of both embarrassment and pride, like a child being pampered by an overbearing mother, and given his size, that might have been more of an accurate analogy than I had originally considered.
"Oh, yes you are! Yes you are! Mwah, mwah!" Tanzra said, happily kissing his nose and fur, giving the large, round face a big hug, even if she failed to reach her short arms all the way around it. Her efforts were rewarded with a deep, reverberating purr.
"I... see." Meryll said, visibly deflated. "I guess I just assumed he would be more, you know... special."
In response to this, his rider took no visible offense, her reaction to the statement instead being one of confusion. "Why should he settle for being special when he's already perfect?"
"Good point!" Annabelle chimed in, petting the stumpy, furred leg of the creature, just above the heavy paw.
Morning had come, and our group had just begun to break camp. Tanzra had advised all of us to wait until morning to approach the fortress, and that advice proved to be quite helpful, as several more brief skirmishes had broken out between the two factions throughout the night. These clashes had ceased once the sun had begun to rise, however. It seemed that the warriors had the good sense to remain hidden, rather than fight out in the open where they could prove easy prey for the Makers or other predators. It wasn't an entirely short walk from our vantage point, but the fact that our goal was within our grasp, even with its many unknowns, proved to be a strong motivator.
Jebediah, however, was standing on his own, his eyes turned towards the clear blue skies. It seemed to be a given that the two strangers were now joining the band. Samson didn't even bother to verbalize his many objections the idea of accepting their company, as he was well aware that just accepting anyone who wanted to come along had been our primary method of recruitment thus far, and had been working out reasonably well. As for Tanzra and Augustus, they obviously had no stake in our grander conflict, but seemed happy enough to go wherever the food was.
"Is something wrong?" Meryll asked the farmer. Now that it was apparent that the dark lord in their company wasn't able to telekinetically throw mountains or conjure up black holes or the like, nor was it likely to maul the blind bard, she had entirely lost interest in the beast.
"There's something strange up in the sky over there." he said, eyes still locked upwards. Now that he had pointed it out, while small, it was difficult to miss. I hadn't noticed it up to this point, but it had resembled a small patch of white, not pure white, but a lighter contrast to the bright blue all around it. It could almost have been mistaken for a cloud, were the shape of the strange hexagon not so deliberate and symmetrical. Too small and too far away to recognize any specific details, it was simply a tiny space, unmoving within the air.
"Well, the sky is a pretty big place. I imagine that there are all sorts of things up there. At least a few of them must be pretty strange. Law of averages, and all that." Meryll shrugged, similarly looking up at it but with significantly less interest.
"Hmmm, I suppose you're right." The farmer smiled, turning away, his curiosity sated. Even if he was unconcerned with the strange object, I couldn't say the same for the flock, who stared to it with baleful expressions. I'd have to remember to ask them about it later.
We finally reached the foot of the great hill, only to meet a massive metal fence which, thankfully, was easy enough for creatures of our size to slip through, and even Augustus was able to wriggle beneath an opening in the metal mesh with only minor difficulties. A huge, dirt plain lie before us, with broad white lines painted within it. There were no signs of any obvious entrance, or hints of civilization of any kind. Well, mouse civilization, more specifically. We were clearly back in Maker's territory, with this entire region clearly having been cultivated by them. Or, more accurately, we were deeper within it. In truth, we had never really left it, but for a time the structures in the distance had grown less visible, and the sounds of their heavy metal vehicles had fallen to dull, distant echoes. From here, while the field had spanned a tremendous distance (even beyond the diamond of soil was a vast grass meadow, cut to a short and even length), not far beyond that, houses had once again begun to crop up. Not densely packed at this point, but one could easily assume that it wouldn't require much travel beyond this place to find themselves surrounded by the massive roads and structures of the tall, two legged beings.
"What exactly is going on here?" Samson asked the cat rider.
"A civil war, apparently. It's been going on for months now."
"What, exactly, are they fighting over?" The one-eyed mouse asked.
Tanzra simply shrugged her shoulders in response. "I never thought to ask."
The group stood in silence. A single tall, massive square of white fabric was set before us, looking far larger close up than we had originally anticipated. Three more were visible in the distance, two equidistant from our current location, bound to this strange object by heavy, white lines. Each of the strange armies from the previous night had exited from and later retreated to one of those objects respectively. An entrance clearly lay beneath each, but this lead to another obvious problem.
"So, what should we do?" Jebediah asked, looking from one side to the other. "I suppose we could always just pick a side, but that would risk turning the other group against us, and I figure we have enough enemies as it is."
"That wouldn't be a very good idea. For all we know, we could be seen as foreign invaders, and be attacked on sight." Sellas replied, "Even if they aren't immediately hostile towards us, we have no right to take sides in a foreign conflict, simply because it might benefit us. Furthermore, we have no way of knowing which side of this conflict, if any, happens to be in the right, or if this even is a conflict of ideals. That could simply be a warlike society."
"Well, we are here for warriors, aren't we?" Meryll said. "Sounds like a warlike society would be the best place to find them."
"Yeah, so long as they don't see us as better targets for their warlike tendencies than one another." Samson sighed. "The worst case scenario would be both factions seeing us as a mutual enemy. Then we'd find ourselves at war with two mouse kingdoms, rather than just one."
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"Well, we can't just stand around here forever. This is what we came here for!" Meryll grumbled, impatiently. "We wanted to find a mouse fortress, and here it is! We hoped they'd have people able and willing to fight, and it turns out there are plenty! And if they're willing to fight each other, is stands to reason that they'll be both willing, and capable of fighting our enemies. This place is exactly what we were hoping to find, and now you're getting all nervous just because there's an element of risk? Well, yeah, of course there's risk. This is war! We weren't afraid of taking a risk when just five of us were willing to step out on our own to face an unknown enemy. Why suddenly be scared of it now?"
I sighed. As usual, Meryll was the worst sort of wrong. That is, being half right. It's much better when someone is entirely wrong, as they're far easier to dismiss. Still, the fact remained that there were still far too many unknowns here. We couldn't even be positive that the denizens of this place were mice. From our previous vantage point, they were certainly mouse-like, but we were too far away to be certain. They could well have been rats instead, or worse, if such a thing was even possible.
A series of arguments had broken out among our forces, with each and every mouse, including the cultists having their own specific viewpoint on how to proceed, all convinced that every opposing argument was a flawed one. They were civil, at first, but steadily grew more heated as each side grow more and more frustrated with their failure to convince the other. This would have been a great time for our fearless leader to step in and intervene, but instead he stood silently, seemingly in deep thought.
"Outsiders..." an unfamiliar voice said. All of our heads turned at once towards it, towards the white fabric monolith which slowly slid aside. Two figures emerged from the carved stairway beneath. Both were dressed identically in heavy armor, not or wood, stone, plastic or metal, but rather heavy fabrics which covered arms, legs and torsos, more resembling brown, plush shields strapped to each limb and body than a proper suit. Their faces were caged, with a tight mesh which I could barely even see through, but surely would have provided ample protection from attack.
"Our leader has been expecting you." the other had said, "Please, follow us. The above ground is the territory of the players, and unsafe to linger, lest you be spotted by them."
"Players?" Meryll asked, but was met only with a curt nod of agreement, rather than a proper explanation. We all looked to one another.
"Should we follow them? They don't seem hostile, which is nice, but isn't this the same problem we had before? Is this just another side in the conflict that we risk allying ourselves to?" Jeb asked.
"We needn't ally ourselves with anyone quite yet, but there is no harm in listening. It is unclear how trustworthy these people are, but I suspect they were correct about one thing. This structure, as a whole, was clearly not designed by mice." Sellas said, scanning the horizon. "When they speak of 'players', I suspect that they mean 'Makers', and it would certainly be problematic for us to be discovered by them."
That put a quick end to the debate. Sure, following heavily armored strangers into a dark and mysterious lair where we could have potentially been ambushed by unknown numbers wasn't ideal, but it was certainly better than waiting around for the giants who owned this place to show up. And so we followed.
The stairs were well crafted, carved into the soil with each step comprised of a thin, wooden plank. This lead to a narrow, torch-lit hallway, which was both a potential blessing and a curse. A curse in the sense that it meant that only a few of us could walk side by side, with Meryll and Smirk taking the lead, they being the most competent fighters. Well, there was also Tanzra, but she was busy helping Augustus navigate the rather tight corridor. If things proved dangerous, only a small portion of our force would have been able fight back, but on the bright side, this also meant that only a finite amount of our potential enemies could similarly strike at once.
The pathway gradually expanded, hardly enough for a proper army to fight in, but at least enough that the cat no longer ran the risk of getting stuck. As for the duo taking the lead, they were strangely unconcerned with his presence. Any questions that were asked by us were met with silence. All that we could do was continue to follow, and see where that happened to lead us. The path would regularly branch off, but our guides simply continued straight. Occasionally we would hear faint noises from those many side passages, nothing particularly ominous, just signs that they were clearly lived in, and that these chambers were, unsurprisingly, populated.
All at once, however, the surroundings changed from plain, dirt walls and the occasional wooden or plastic supports, to lavish decorations. Elaborate portraits lined each of the walls, glossy and clean images of Makers, depicted as no larger than mice, most caught in the middle of dramatic action poses, often armed and dressed in bright and colorful attire. Beneath them was text written in the familiar Maker's script, which I was only casually versed in, able to recognize individual letters but certainly unable to put them together into words or phrases, at least not without the translation notes which were left back in my own kingdom. Beneath our feet a carpet of red fabric ran further ahead, and to each side of it, our hosts quietly knelt, heads turned towards the darkness. From there, their leader emerged.
Well, we couldn't be certain, of course, but it was quite obvious that she represented some measure of authority, both due to the reverence that the pair had show her, and her own elaborate garb. The attire was similar to that of the others, but rather than being muddy brown fabric, it was white, clean and plush, embroidered in red thread and marked at the shoulder with what I recognized as a numerical Makers symbol. She bore a similar cage about her face, but the mesh was metal and significantly more open, allowing us to see the tired and aged face within.
"Greetings, travelers from a distant land. I am the Grand Umpiress." she said. From there she simply stood, arms outspread, head raised to the heavens for a few seconds, before clearing her throat, looking visibly embarrassed. I suspect that she had expected us to be far more impressed by the title, but it naturally meant nothing to us, and we had no idea of how to react. "Ahem. As I was saying, greetings travelers. I welcome you. I know why you have come. You are destined to bring peace to these troubled lands."
Jebediah thankfully stepped forward, as nobody else was about to. He tilted his head, scratched his ear and spoke. "I'm sorry, I think there might be a little confusion here." he said, "Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of helping others in need, but we kind of have our own problems right now. I can't necessarily say that they're bigger than yours, but we've certainly got our hands full with them."
"Yes, I am very much aware of your own conflict. You find yourself outnumbered and overpowered by a mysterious enemy, and have ventured forth in search of mighty warriors to aid you. You have come to the right place. You will find no warriors mightier than ours, in numbers great enough to trample even the most terrible of enemies. I know full well that you and yours hadn't come here purely to aid us, but our struggles, like all struggles, are not so distantly separated. You needn't choose to help us or your own. Both can be accomplished at once."
"Do you have the sight as well?" Sellas asked, stepping up alongside the farmer. "Did the Starman bless you with visions of our coming?"
The elderly mouse beneath the mask turned to the priestess. "I know not of this 'Starman' of which you speak, but yes, I have been blessed with occasional visions beyond what exists before my eyes. Fleeting images, very much open to interpretation, but often that is enough. Enough to recognize that you are not invaders or destroyers. That while your hearts might not beat as one, you are all, ultimately, both capable and virtuous."
I wasn't entirely sure that we fit into either of those groups, but I still appreciated the compliment.
"Well, if we need to help you to help ourselves, I suppose we might as well dive right into it." Jeb said. "Is it safe to assume that the problem you want us to solve is related to the civil war that you folks find yourselves in?"
"Indeed. It is a conflict beyond my power to resolve. I can only hope that an outside source may provide much needed perspective."
"Well, I'm not sure how much we can do, to be honest. We don't really know anything about it, or your people. How did it start?"
The ornately armored woman sighed and shook her head, not in disappointment with him, but rather disappointment in her own people. "The same way that all conflicts start, I suppose. It began as philosophies. In time, those philosophies became beliefs. In time, those beliefs became traditions. In time, those those traditions became immutable ways of life. This, naturally, wouldn't have been such a problem had there been only one, but no, there were, instead, two. The branches between them were minor, at first, as they often are, but grew in ever greater opposition, until each became seen as an existential threat to the other which needed to be eliminated. From there, pride lead to ever escalating battles, each side alternating between being motivated by the thrill of victory, or seeking to avenge their past defeat."
Jebediah frowned, continuing to swivel his scythe across his shoulder. "That.. isn't very specific." he finally said, after giving the matter a few moments of thought.
"I can say no more." she replied. "I am but an intermediary. Any perspective I offer on one side or the other risks being tainted by bias and corrupting the future negotiations."
"So, you expect us to negotiate a peace between these two factions." Sellas said, "I suppose that I can grasp the logic in seeking an outside and completely neutral source, but we are neither lawyers nor councillors. We are, ultimately, soldiers, not negotiators."
I wasn't entirely sure how good we were at being soldiers, either, but that was a whole other matter entirely.
"Who better to relate to soldiers fighting a war, than warriors on their own crusade?" The Umpiress asked. "I am well aware that this is a great deal to ask of strangers, but I implore you to try. Even in the best of times, the survival and defense of our lands were trying, but each night more and more of our citizens are wounded, or worse. Our scant resources are now more devoted to destroying ourselves than protecting our people, and younger and younger mice are finding themselves drawn into the conflict. Our elders are dying off, and before long, we will have a populace who have only ever known war, who are raised to hate their own kind, purely because they happened to be raised under a differing belief structure. This cannot be allowed to continue."
The commanding tone of the elder mouse woman had cracked a little with that final statement.
Jebediah looked down and frowned a little. "To be honest, I don't really know what you expect us to do. If they're as set in their ways as you say, I can't imagine some strangers just dropping in out of nowhere and telling them to stop will accomplish much." he sighed. Sadly, he wasn't wrong. We all want to believe that we can change people, yet how often do we believe that others can change us? The truth is, it's impossible to truly change people. It doesn't matter how smart you are, or how right you are. People can only change themselves, and the terrible truth is that they, we, usually don't want to change. Not even if we're miserable. Hell, especially if we're miserable. Still, such situations are not completely hopeless. Sometimes others are needed to help us realize that we wish to change ourselves, and to help guide us through that difficult process.
"That said," the farmer continued, "We'll do everything that we can. I just can't promise that it will be enough."
"Thank you, Bloody Hell Reaper." she nodded.
"Um... what was that?"
The Umpiress blinked. "My apologies... I was taken to believe that was what people were calling you. Was I mistaken?"
"Wow, that name just keeps getting longer and longer, don't it?" Jeb chuckled. "Can't say I care any more for the 'bloody' part any more than I do for the 'hell', though, but hey, what can you do?"
"Again, I thank you." the mouse woman said, giving a small curtsy. "I do not expect miracles from you and yours, and your will to help bring peace to this land is all that you need to bring to the table. Leave the rest to me. Tomorrow, I will summon the leaders of the two factions to meet with both myself and you and your allies. From there, each will explain their point of view, and from there... well, from there, we'll just have to see how thing go, won't we? We, none of us, have anything to lose by trying, after all."
The farmer smiled. "You're not wrong."
"Excellent. I appreciate your patience, all of you. As I had said before, I am well aware that you all have your own problems, and that our own are none of your concern. I am confident that we can come to a resolution which will be most pleasing to all involved parties. Now, as for you all, while I have certainly had my reasons, they have resulted in me being a less than gracious host. You have traveled far, and have more than earned yourselves some rest. A great feast will be prepared in your honor, and I trust you will not be disappointed by the local delicacies."
This lead to a lot of excited murmurings among our group. We hadn't been going hungry, by any means, but even I was getting a little bit tired of dried field rations. As for what happened tomorrow? Well, we would have to wait until them. On paper, it seemed hopeless, but this Umpiress person did seem to be strangely optimistic. Or perhaps simply desperate. Either way, as she had said, we had little to lose by trying. I could only hope that 'trying' would be good enough.