image [https://i.imgur.com/19kd0hX.jpg]
After finishing a meal, Fabulosa and I retired for the evening. Our rooms offered such spartan accommodations that we almost used the Dark Room. The following morning, we reconvened with the soldiers over breakfast. By the amount they drank, their early start impressed me.
Rumors confirmed what we already knew—Commander Thaxter’s nonsensical plans to march south made for only the beginning of the trouble. After multiple attempts to leave the fort by himself, the fort staff restrained and isolated him. Townspeople thought he’d gone crazy, and the topic struck a nerve with his many loyalists.
Val hung his head over a cup of coffee. “Fischer served as one of the fort’s three captains before someone in Malibar promoted him to major. The two remaining captains, Jourdain and Goodner, remain loyal to Thaxter and are kicking up dust over the change of command. It’s paralyzing the fort’s mission.”
Sami nodded. “The worst part is the lack of resolve emboldens the orcs. Everyone in the field doesn’t want to engage for fear that command won’t support them.”
I squinted to show that Sami had lost me. Too many of these names meant nothing to me, and walking into NPC politics wasn’t easy for an outsider to understand.
Sami took the hint and clarified. Captains Jourdain and Goodner support Thaxter’s strategy of committing resources to the south.”
When Iris darkened the New Jay’s doorway, I spotted an unfamiliar green ribbon on her shoulder—a military insignia of some sort. When she crossed the bar to our table, other soldiers in the tavern saluted, but she didn’t immediately sit. “Val, Sami, and Jahid, I need the table.”
Without a word, the three stood, saluted, and moved to a table on the far side of the room.
When Iris finally sat, the barkeep named Chassy brought over a breakfast plate for her. It made for the first time I’d seen anyone get served food since we arrived. She didn’t even order. Everyone else helped themselves buffet-style.
Fabulosa looked as impressed as I felt about our guild commander being a big deal around here.
Iris tucked into her meal and spoke after swallowing a generous portion. “I made progress last night, but it will take a while to smooth over egos.” She held up her palm. “This is fort business, Governor. I’m afraid you’ll need to wait in town until we square up the staff.”
Fabulosa raised a finger. “Can we see the commander, at least?”
Iris grunted. “I haven’t even seen him. Thaxter’s indisposed. That’s the official word until I learn more. The first order of business involves getting patrols back up in rotation. Committing enough resources for an aggressive stance is my focus right now.”
Iris spoke with resolve. She didn’t confer with us or ask us for our opinion. Her eyes drifted from our gaze as if thinking about other matters.
I waited until she swallowed another mouthful before asking another question. “What can Fab and I do?”
Iris shook her head. “This is what happens when an outpost relaxes on its duties. If the emperor seriously cared about taking Krek, he’d send a legion to our gates. These are just the Crackedleathers, hired to harass us. It’s tribal politics—a new warlord making a name for themselves. The Crackedleathers want to return home with distinction, but we’re not going to let that happen. Krek has more than enough troops to secure the area. It just needs a leader to do so.” Iris didn’t wear her emotions on her sleeve, but I detected subtle scorn in her words. She wouldn’t say it aloud, but she disapproved of the fort’s acting command staff.
I straightened. “Can I ask how long sorting this out might take?”
Iris finished chewing another mouthful before answering. “Not more than a few weeks. In a way, this is a good thing. When we come out of this, I’ll establish westerly patrol routes favorable to Hawkhurst. But I don’t want to introduce you to the staff until the dust settles.”
Fabulosa’s shoulders slumped. “We can’t do anything until then?”
Iris leaned back and relaxed for the first time in the conversation. “Honestly, L.T. It would help if you made yourselves scarce. The last thing we need is more rumors. Activity has to be flat before we pitch the idea of caravans and merchants.”
Fabulosa thumbed the point of her Phantom Blade. “Can we help with that?”
“I’m afraid not. Krek needs to do this. The soldiers here need to take ownership of the ground they cover. That’s another reason why you need to lie low.”
Fabulosa and I weren’t happy with the answer, but Iris’s logic made long term sense. If outsiders quelled the Crackedleathers, it would send the wrong message to both sides of the conflict. The orcs were Krek’s responsibility, and the rank-and-file needed to entrust their officers to assert themselves.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
After her meal, Iris excused herself and returned to the fort, leaving Fabulosa and me with little to do.
I envied the mercenaries who came with us. They had the time of their lives, enjoying the camaraderie of friends while not beholden to patrols or guard duty. They’ll spend their furlough in pubs, swapping jokes and war stories with old buddies.
Fabulosa and I met with local merchants, giving our pitch about the inner passage trade route and conveying the risks. The locals loved the idea, but the deciding factor fell on Fort Krek and its ability to subdue the orcs. From what I could tell, they wouldn’t even be in these hills if the humans hadn’t settled here. The orc homeland rested up north in the Doublespine Mountains. It sounded like shooing them away would take a lot of fighting, but what did I know? I’m just a civilian.
Over the next few days, Fabulosa and I explored the town around the castle, but the area’s mercantile presence wasn’t strong. Fort Krek stood at the last navigable point on the river, farthest from the ocean, making it a dead-end town. Our trade route could change that.
After a few days, we’d seen everyone we needed to see. The lynchpin to local merchants using it revolved around Iris’s ability to tip-toe through fort politics.
We discussed how best to contact businesses and governments in Eastern cities. Greenie made a list of whom to see, but his sketchy information meant we’d have to improvise a lot. It would take legwork and visits to the biggest pubs to find the local bigwigs to meet in every vicinity. I’ll be the first to admit that we felt uncomfortable spreading the word. Merchants always looked too busy to talk. Pitching a new trade route stoked my social anxiety.
If Greenie wasn’t in hiding, he could do a better job.
Fabulosa and I used a crude map of the Eastern cities to plan our route. Two rivers framed the Eastern countryside, each segmented by a string of towns. Traveling overland from one river to the next looked possible, so a circular tour of both rivers made sense.
Day after day, we mulled over our travel options in a café across from the town well. The town’s well became one of the more active places in the city, and hanging out around it gave us a better sense of Fort Krek’s citizens.
Fabulosa gawked at the local fashions, and occasionally, she brought to my attention styles that caught her eye. Charitybelle would have been a better companion. The manner of dress looked different, I’ll admit, but none of it interested me.
One afternoon, Iris approached but did not sit down. “Are you enjoying the local fare?” She gestured to our empty plates.
We nodded and smiled.
Fabulosa eyed one of the more elaborate jackets. “Now we’re admiring the outfits.”
I did my best not to roll my eyes.
Iris looked as unenthused as I felt—as if she had something weightier on her mind than food and fashion. “Can we talk inside? There are a few things I would like to go over. Wait a few minutes before following me.”
Fabulosa and I eagerly agreed, starved for details or news.
As we entered the pub, Iris still looked pensive about meeting us. Her eyes darted from face to face, scanning everyone at the tables, and she lowered her voice to a whisper. “What I’m about to tell you is highly sensitive. The situation with the staff isn’t good, and I have a hard time making headway, and they won’t let me see Thaxter. I don’t want to get into the politics of it all, but—”
Her cloak and dagger preamble, in truth, made me anxious to hear the news.
Iris glanced around for eavesdroppers again before speaking. “The commander is confined to quarters and has been getting progressively worse. I talked to Major Fischer, who oversees the commander’s upkeep. He says they found a map under his bed. He wants to bivouac a sizable force at coordinates southwest of our position. Setting up a camp there makes no sense—the bush is practically impenetrable. Thaxter sent teams to hack a trail before Fischer relieved him of duty.
“Fischer also says the commander speaks in gibberish, some guttural tongue matching no human tongue. Here.” Iris passed a scrap of parchment covered with symbols toward us.
I cast Detect Magic, but nothing glowed.
The squiggly symbols weren’t pictograms or recognizable writing, nor did they use geometric shapes. The sweeping lines and curves reminded me of Sanskrit, except the blobs and curves possessed no linear structure.
“He’s been writing symbols like these everywhere.”
I’d not seen this in my research, but it could be a dead language from the Blyeheath. I immediately thought of Mr. Fergus, who picked through remains of northern civilizations.
Iris withdrew her hand and looked around for eavesdroppers. “I know you two are resourceful, so I told Fischer you might find something about this symbol in Malibar. I don’t know—maybe some egghead in Torzda knows. Your goodwill tour won’t mean anything if we can’t clear up what’s happening to the commander—err, the retired commander.”
Fabulosa asked a question on the tip of my tongue. “Can we see the map or get the coordinates?”
Iris shook her head. “I can’t even see it. Fischer has it locked away as proof of the commander’s madness. Goodner and Jourdain treat it like a top-secret battle map.” Iris rolled her eyes. “They sent liaisons to temple elders and university officials, but no one knows anything. This symbol can’t be regional because nothing stood until we established an outpost a hundred years ago.”
“Would anyone mind if Fabulosa and I investigated the area ourselves?”
Iris shook her head emphatically. “That might spark a mutiny, Governor. Captains Goodner and Jourdain would likely go after you. They see the coordinates as Thaxter’s alone. Besides, there’s no way to find where Thaxter wants to go without precise numbers—but it’s about 25 miles to the southwest.”
I grunted, wondering if it fell upon the western shoreline of Otter Lake.
With or without the fort’s blessing, I couldn’t disagree with Iris. The trees around here weren’t the giants around Hawkhurst, so the underbrush flourished with healthy doses of sunlight. Some bushes and thickets acted like a Wall of Thorns. We could be within twenty yards of Thaxter’s secret treasure and not see it.
Fabulosa turned to me. “Do you want to skip Jarva and Azay and go straight to Malibar? You might find something about these chicken scratches with your library skills.”
Promoting Hawkhurst in the other cities wouldn’t do us good if we couldn’t help secure Fort Krek. The marks on the parchment didn’t remind me of anything. “Yeah, let’s give it a go.”
“It looks like your research skills might be useful after all.”
“And I suppose your natural charm counts as our other asset?”
Fabulosa imperiously lifted her chin. “That and my keen fashion sense, darlin’.”