Outside the safety of the Heathers' underground barracks evidence of the ongoing riots slapped Tesla across the face. The cloud layers were low, thick, and heavy; a heady mix of naturally-born snow clouds, relentless columns of smoke from the burning city, and greasy ash born from the deaths of Diatom's Ember population. Days had passed since Tesla last saw the sun, but the clouds somehow reflected back the shifting reds and oranges of the fires and lit every corner in a shadowy, flickering light. With that light came an unnatural level of feverish warmth that actually made one wish for the return of winter's grip, a cloying heat born from the city's self-cannibalism.
Overhead the ashes of the dead mixed with that of the burning timbers and falling snow, resulting in a slushy gray mess that clung to everything and reeked like a funeral pyre. Just a few minutes underneath the falling filth was all it took to turn someone into a soot-streaked, disheveled jumble. In the distance, Lonely Mountain stood backlit by the reflected glow from the clouds, giving the king's home a kind of horrific majesty normally reserved for erupting volcanoes. Tesla could easily picture the violence and depravity being committed beneath that dirty aura; truly, the riots must be a scene straight out of hell.
The noise didn't hurt that analogy in the slightest. Normally Diatom held an upbeat murmur of industrious citizens working hard to make their daily lives easier, and the crazy acoustics of a haphazardly-built city with that level of mass would cause bits and pieces of that daily life to pop into a listener's ears with great clarity. That was no longer the case. Instead, an angry howling filled the air; a mixture of roaring flames, collapsing buildings, crashing weapons, and screams. The screwy acoustics made it worse; hearing a sobbing woman as she was raped, the death rattle of some unknown soldier, or the frightened crying of a child resounding from out of nowhere filled Tesla with an impotent rage.
The distant scenes of burning, the omnipresent filth, and ocean-surf sounds of suffering beat down on everyone's morale. Especially the servants: Those among the Solitaires and Trinzet's retinue who couldn't lift a sword to defend themselves quaked in their boots every time they came above ground. Tesla turned back to the barracks as those men and women fearfully forced themselves out into the open and steeled their spines to run back to the main house. It was the only way to return to the subterranean servants' quarters, after all. He thought it shameful that the Skywalkers designed the barracks to be separated from everything else in the Heathers' underground, but likewise thought that now certainly wasn't the time to be contemplating renovations.
Old Man Palmer turned white in the face, but otherwise kept his cool. Then again, he was an elderly man who probably thought it would be no loss if he died by that point, so maybe his self-preservation instincts were lacking. Of course, he also stuck close to the guards assigned to escort the attendants back, so maybe Tesla was just overthinking. Esperia covered her delicate little "ear" horns and grimaced, but did nothing else. That wasn't surprising; she was clearly someone used to clawing her way out of hard circumstances. The degree of the situation may be novel to her, but the situation itself probably wasn't.
When Holly stepped out she nearly collapsed; a pair of female guards had to sweep her up and carry her with the rest of the group. Tesla felt a pang of regret over that; the girl was horrified by the current circumstances of the city and begged to be near him at all times, as she perceived his presence to be the safest place in the entire world, but she was also a non-combatant with no place on any potential battlefield. Even Esperia had better chances than Holly; at least she could breathe fire, and had a sliver of steel in her personality. Holly, however, was all marshmallow. In a world crafted like an anime, where every young woman was designed like a hentai protagonist, Holly Stein was the kind of girl jerkwad authors unleashed the most destructively abusive acts against.
Mental purity, coupled with a body that could resurrect the dead; that was Tesla's favored milk maid. Her only physical match was Trinzet Diatom, but there was certainly no naivete' in that woman's mind. The Lioness of Rodannes was an aggressor, not a victim. That is, when she wasn't sulking like a three-year-old.
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Janek Hess leaned against the main entrance of the Heathers' hunting lodge in an ill-fitting jacket of studded leather, the only piece of armor that could actually cover the dwarf's broad frame, and nodded companionably to Tesla as the ryujin hove into view. "Before ye ask, there's been no change."
"Damn." Tesla pulled up short in front of the dwarf and crossed his arms. "I don't have time for her to pout over this any more than she already has." In yet another amazing about-face of personality, Trinzet went from a hyper-possessive, grasping, and greedy woman to a depressed shut-in. "I save her life and she tries to kill me. I try to leave her alone and she refuses to let me go. I follow her to Lonely Mountain and she tries to kill me again. I kick her ass and she decides she owns me. I take your advice on another woman... and now she hides under her bed sheets? How random can one woman be?"
"Clearly, pretty damn random." Janek shook his head. "She's not lettin' anybody in; there's no tellin' when she's goin' to cool off."
"Shit. I need Trinzet's bunch to help my own guards in protecting the Heathers, but I don't want to have to control the princess' forces by beating the crap out of every officer that tries to gain-say me when I give an order!" Needless to say, the first fool that tried turned out to be Marx Krull; that idiot was finally awake and his prognosis looked pretty good. Tesla paced back and forth in front of Janek, paused, then grabbed both horns atop his head. "Arrrgh! Fine! I'm going in."
"Yeah, well, good luck and all that."
The interior of the lodge was about the same as it always was, though there were considerably fewer people making the rounds within. This was partially due to the riots causing a loss of contact with the city guardsmen stationed around Diatom... and partially because no one wanted to be anywhere near Trinzet on the off chance she suddenly snapped and went on a rampage. A handful of the heartier maids assigned to her retinue were willing to stay on with Trinzet until she overcame her mental funk, but Tesla forbade it and replaced them with a couple of the princess' soldiers.
She'll be in her room. The silver-steel ryujin climbed the stairs to the lodge's second floor and worked his way to the northern wing. Trinzet's room was easy to spot; he only had to look for the one door that was surrounded by empty, crumb-ridden dinnerware and discarded piles of clothing. Tesla sighed at the mess. From a spartan war hero to a lovelorn slob in just three easy steps! Dial now! Our techs are standing by! He reached up and knocked firmly on the door. "Trinzet, it's me. Open up. We've got work to do."
Naturally, the door didn't open. "...Go away." That was a reaction, though, so he decided to hesitantly mark her down in the "positive" column.
"Nope. It's time to put on the big girl panties and face the world. In case you haven't noticed, the city's in crisis."
"...Did you just call me fat?" Something slapped against the door from the other side. It was heavy, but made a fluttering sound as it fell to the floor; Tesla assumed it to be a book. "That's why you picked her, didn't you?! Mine are just as big as hers, but she's all milk while I'm all fat! I knew it!"
A vein throbbed on Tesla's forehead. So much for the positive column... "What are you, four? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard! Face reality, Trinzet: I'm not your damn property, and I never was! Holly-"
"Don't say that name!"
"-Beat you to the "goal" because, unlike either you or Esperia, she didn't begin the race a thousand miles behind the starting line! As crazy as it sounds, even a girl that shows up at the last minute can take the prize when her rivals can't figure out the name of the game!" Tesla smacked a fist against the door with a snarl. "Open this door. Every able-bodied soldier is needed to preserve all our lives; the Lioness of Rodannes, Warlord of the Eastern Front, more than qualifies."
"Go away!"
"Damn!" Book, what are my options?
I want options, Book, not half-assed jokes.
That sound like a "last option." Anything else?
Better than the alternatives, I guess. Tesla dropped his hand onto the door latch once again. You have anything for what I should say next?
Great. The ryujin tightened his grip on the latch and directed his will toward the door. "Unlock." The dead bolt slid free with a metallic click. "Trinzet, I'm coming in!"
"No, you don't!" A weight slammed against the door from the other side just as Tesla started to open it, quite effectively smacking the wooden portal against his forehead. "I said go away, that means go away!"
For an instant Tesla was frozen with pure shock, then a red haze entered into his vision. His senses dulled with anger, Tesla threw his weight against the door with a bellow of his own and plowed into the darkened room. "You Soai-damned fool! You want to be treated like a child!? Fine, I'll treat you like a child!" There was little he could make out in the bedroom due to his own clouded gaze, but he immediately took notice of a wriggling figure, buried under a pile of blankets, trying to wedge itself under the bed. "There you are!"
The figure squealed as he snatched it by the ankle and hauled it up into the air, then shrieked when he tossed it onto the bed. No matter how much the figure struggled, war hero or not, it couldn't overcome a man whose base stats were in the triple digit range. In moments, he had the woman firmly bent over his knee. The cuff of his leather armor popped around his wrist as his hand shot up in the air, then again as that hand rushed down, and Tesla's palm struck hard with a satisfying crack. Trinzet yowled in pain. "How dare you! I-"
Crack: "There will be no more foolishness in my house!"
"You bastard! I'll see you-"
Crack: "You will clean up behind yourself like a proper lady!"
"Aggh! I'll kill-"
Crack: "You will lead this damn army and keep this household safe!"
"Leave me alo-"
Crack: "You will take your position as war hero, as a princess, as a duchess with your own lands to rule more seriously!"
"My father never-"
Crack: "You will not fight with Esperia any more, and you will not start fighting with Holly!"
"Don't say her-"
Crack: "I do not come when called, I do not take orders from you, nor do I belong to you!"
"Wait! Stop!"
Crack: "You belong to me!"
".....!"
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Crack: "Damn fool woman! If you want me to show you some respect, show me some respect!"
"Fu...!"
Crack: "If you want something from me, then ask for it! Don't assume it's your right to take it!"
"Fuah!"
Crack: "If you want to be my woman, show me a little meekness; show me a lot of propriety! Crazy in the bedchamber is fine, but crazy anywhere else isn't!"
"Uuuuaaaahhhhhnnnn!"
Crack: "What the hell was I saying?! ...Anyway, behave yourself from now on!" Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack.
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"Well, that didn't take long. How'd it go?" Janek jumped up with a start as Tesla barged out of the hunting lodge and back into the cold, uncomfortable embrace of Diatom's riotous night. "What's with the red face? Don't tell me ye bedded her? A few minutes isn't long enough to properly tumble a woman!"
Tesla coughed into a fist. "No....?"
The old dwarf arched a fuzzy catepillar eyebrow. "Wait, seriously? Come on, lad, ye need more time to do a woman up proper. Only a prostitute forgives a quickie since she's ready to move on to the next John. If ye did that, she might not ever come draggin' up out of that room of hers!"
"No, we didn't!" Tesla scratched the back of his head. "I, ah, kinda' lost my temper."
"...And?"
"...I forced open the door, turned her over my knee, and spanked her; I didn't realize she was nude until afterwards."
"Pfft-." Janek swiftly reached up and snatched at his beard just under the nose in an attempt to hold his mouth shut. "That's some creative thinking, there," he eventually strangled out, "how'd it end up?"
"She agreed to sortie."
"I bet she did."
"Shut up if you have nothing useful to say, old man." Tesla rocked back and forth on his feet a moment, then began to walk away. "She'll be out shortly. Lead her to the rallying point, if you would."
"Oh?" Janek snorted, "Should I carry a couple of extra ice packs for her highness' bruised derriere?"
"Don't bother. Somewhere around the end of the whole thing I'm afraid she started liking it."
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When it became obvious that the rioting wasn't going to stop any time soon, Tesla was left with a bit of a conundrum. Specifically, including both his own forces and Trinzet's, he had enough manpower to either defend the Waving Heathers from the inside or from the outside of its walls, but not both. The main problem lay with the walls themselves: They were high, thick, and solid, but they were neither high enough to stop a grappling hook, solid enough to withstand concentrated offensive magic, nor broad enough to allow soldiers to patrol atop them.
Establishing his defenses outside of the walls was an optimistic approach. The streets were open and uncluttered, giving him both a clear field of view and open lanes to maneuvar upon. One corner of the property sat on a relatively steep hill, which meant the streets in that area did to. Claiming that spot as a defensive position would give him the advantage of high ground. At the same time, open fields of vision and uncluttered roads to move on could be advantageous to both sides. Also, if a mob were to somehow slip past a patrol and climb the walls then the estate would be virtually unprotected.
Keeping his combined forces inside the walls would be more of a conservative move, sacrificing the initiative to any potential mobs. It also meant that Tesla could rapidly deploy across the property to any breach, then force the mostly city-born rioters and looters to fight in a woodland battlefield his men were already accustomed to. At the same time, any would-be arsonist with a moderately powerful fire spell (or even a half-full liquor bottle with a burning rag stuffed down the neck) could light up the entire hundred acre estate and ruin everybody's day.
In the end, Tesla chose the optimistic approach and employed the high ground as the primary staging area for his troops. His reasoning was simple. The mobs were organized enough to keep the riots going for days, which meant they were lead by competent agitators, but the rioters themselves were nothing more than peasants, cutpurses, and beggars unversed in tactics or strategy. On the off chance that a more serious threat emerged, he used banners to make it clear that the lord of the Waving Heathers and the Lioness of Rodannes were currently encamped outside the property. Basically, the mobs would be too stupid to be missed by the patrols while a genuine problem wouldn't be after mere looting and pillaging. It was a gamble, but it was the best he could do given what he had to work with.
There wasn't much to fortify the hilltop with but, after a few scavenger hunts outside of the nobles' quarter, the hardier soldiers managed to drag back a handful of broken wagons, several crates, and some half-burned lumber. With that came stories of vandalism, petty theft, and gratuitous violence. Some of the nobles' quarter itself was also affected by the rioting, but the damage was limited to abandoned properties that had fallen into disrepair. Since the quarter's most notable feature was its plethora of high walls, it was difficult for semi-casual looters to make a dent in the neighborhood.
The most ironic problem so far had to be the issue between rioters versus refugees. The issue was: How to tell the difference? In ones and twos, would-be thieves were caught trying to ascend this or that wall nearby to the Heathers and would be quickly subdued. These individuals were carted off to the Skywalker clan's old dungeons, which had yet to be refitted, in the back of the barracks. The criminals were then treated for their wounds and fed while incarcerated in a safer place than the city outside.
For those men and women who begged for asylum, however, Tesla had no choice but to turn them away. There was simply no guaranteeing that they were not wolves in sheeps' clothing; even a single traitorous act could set the entire estate's timberline afire. He just couldn't take the risk; a refugee couldn't be imprisoned in the dungeon, but they couldn't be trusted to have free run of the property either. The only safe option was to refuse.
It's a sad state of affairs, but there's nothing for it; the safety of the Solitaires and the property comes first. Tesla marched purposefully around the long circuit of the Waving Heathers' outer walls with one clawed hand resting firmly on the pommel of his golem device and his head on a swivel. To be honest, he thought he looked foolish patrolling the Heather's walls but, given how much higher his stats were compared to everyone else, even though he was not a professional he could make the circuit faster, last longer between breaks, and see further in the twilight haze than anyone else.
Not that there was that much to see; just a winding series of cobblestone streets and walls by the dozen. Occasionally, he would pass by another patrol heading the opposite direction. It was his own personal touch to keep those men and women with the "guard" job class from feeling outclassed by a golemeister. He couldn't lap them as they make their rounds if they were going the other way.
From the perspective of the Solitaires, Tesla's presence was highly reassuring. Perhaps it was bias in favor of their new lord, or perhaps it was a result of his social stats, but to their eyes he glowed like some martial god that the filth of the riots refused to touch. They often bowed when he passed them by and, once he was out of earshot, speculated on whether or not he was somehow blessing the walls of the estate with every circuit he made.
To the city guard Tesla's presence was also godlike, though in a radically different fashion. Since there were more of them on patrol around the circuit they saw him more often. Since his superior levels meant he caught more looters sniffing around the property, they were often the ones he passed those criminals off to. Put simply, there was very little more terrifying to a guardsman already on edge than a massive, horned dragon warrior just appearing out of the murky darkness while hauling a pair of unconscious criminals behind him by the scruff of the neck like they were dead bodies. The imagery was practically demonic; a handful of the less mentally-stout guards were already having nightmares.
As Tesla climbed the hill towards the primary staging area to complete his first circuit he noticed consternation among the men and women milling around up there. Ah. Trinzet must have finally showed up; Janek, too. The blonde ryujin shrugged and considered simply slipping through the scrum of suddenly-energetic guards and starting his second circuit unnoticed. If the two of them are there, then everything should be fine. In fact, they'll probably start shoring up anything I missed right away. Especially Trinzet; this is her forte' after all.
Trinzet was easy to spot. As always, when fully kitted out the Lioness of Rodannes looked like a walking tank in full plate so thick it should have been riveted to the hull of a battleship. She was surrounded by a revolving tide of guard officers showing off paperwork and maps; Tesla figured they were probably already begging her to make changes to rotation schedules and the like. He had no idea what her responses were. She was wearing a fully-enclosed helm that time around, which automatically gave her the perfect poker face, and she was too far away to hear over everyone else. Ah, whatever, he thought, if they're good ideas she'll give it the okay; if not then things stay the same. Either way, it's what's best to guard the property.
Janek was pretty much ignored by everyone else, but it was equally obvious that the old dwarf preferred it that way. The gruff old codger simply puffed away at his long-stemmed chibouk pipe under the protection of a lean-to while bemoaning the absence of his favorite weapons and "trusty" helm. Tesla wanted to bounce a fist off the top the old man's head and rib him about how his oh-so-precious helmet served better as a stew pot than it did as a defensive item, but refrained; he really didn't want to speak with Trinzet right then, and got the feeling that a conversation would be inevitable if he stuck around for too long.
Despite his big frame, Tesla slipped easily through the hilltop cordon and resumed his patrol like he was never even there.
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Creeping through the back alleys of the nobles' quarter like a detachment of army ants, a contingent of roughnecked men slowly made their way to the district's center with a poise born from intense military precision and survival on a dozen different battlefields. They were well armed and armored in plain bronze with no definitive markings. Scouts were constantly employed to assess every cul-de-sac and intersection before the group would move as a whole, and anyone encountered by those scouts were swiftly and efficiently removed by long daggers punched upwards through the diaphragm.
Eventually, the scouts made contact with a plain-clothed man rolling a silver coin back and forth across the backs of his fingers. This time there was no attack; instead, a single scout made her presence known and began flashing a series of complex gestures toward the fellow. (Information?)
(Confirmed.) The man pocketed his coin and signed back, (Target is part of a defense force guarding some noble's property.)
(What is his status?)
(Within the guard? Unknown.) The man's hands paused a second, then resumed. (Signs indicate respect, but he patrols alone on a route spinning counter to everyone else. He is equipped with studded leather and what appears to be a large steel club. No helmet, but he's ryujin; they can't wear them anyway.)
(Then he's either overconfident or he's being punished for infractions. Regardless, if we move fast enough we should be able to remove him without anyone noticing. What of the ring?)
(I couldn't see a ring, but he's wearing gloves; aside from the helmet, he is sporting a full set of armor. It's possible the ring is under one of the gloves.)
(It will have to do; I will inform my captain.)
The plain-clothed man held out a slip of paper. (His route. The place that's circled is the best location for an ambush, as it's the farthest away from where the guards set up headquarters. Luckily, you won't have to divert to get there.)
The woman took the slip and pocketed it, then signed back to the man. (Well done. The captain will be pleased.)
(So long as I am properly compensated, I will be pleased.) With that, the plain-clothed man turned and melted back into the shadows.
The scout frowned, then lightly snapped her fingers. In response, a willowy elf appeared and tapped his chin. (Your orders?) he signed.
The woman merely jerked her thumb in the direction the plain-clothed man went and drew a red card from another pocket. (Mercenaries talk.)
The elf nodded. (Consider it done.) He dropped a hand to the hilt of his dagger and launched himself soundlessly in the same direction the woman pointed.
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For Tesla's second turn around the Heathers, he found it much harder to stay focussed. He managed to keep himself under control when he passed by other patrols, but when he was alone once more... "Agh! I couldn't help it, I was angry! How the hell was I supposed to know she was naked? Why the hell was she naked?" Essentially, he was arguing with himself.
It was like the classic story of the angel and the devil sitting on your shoulders, except Tesla couldn't tell who was who. "No, this is totally my fault. I shouldn't have lost control like that, and put my hands all over her a-." He drew up short and stared down at his hand; his claws seemed to flex of their own volition. "It was way softer than I thought it was going to be. Fluffy..."
"Gagh! No!" Tesla snagged his horns and pulled his head down. "What the hell am I thinking!? I just wanted to lay down the law!"
Naturally, that led to thoughts of laying down. "Aaarrrgh! Holly, forgive your licentious, idiot lord!"
Naturally, that led to thoughts of Holly... and Trinzet... at the same time. "Auuugggghhhh!"
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After another fifteen minutes of verbally beating himself up, Tesla pulled himself to a stop once again. This had less to do with yet another delusion and more to do with the sudden appearance of a trio of lightly-armored soldiers, with drawn daggers held at the ready, whom Book identified as
Wow, it's been a while since I had a gen-u-ine personal quest pop up out of thin air. Still, no matter how you slice it, three "scouts" hardly qualifies as a threat requiring a thirty minute battle. That means... Sure enough, more leathernecks cut from the same mold as the scouts began to file out of the nearby alleys, followed by hefty-looking men in bronze half-plate carrying an assortment of one-handed swords and bucklers, spears, and a couple of bows. In the back, a handful of very underarmored men and women waved around what could only be magicians' staves. Oh, god what am I, a dungeon boss? Do they need a guild raid to take me down?
"Well, damn." Tesla cracked his knuckles and spat on the street. "Begin scenario."