When they arrived back in the meadow where the command center protected everyone they ever knew and loved, both boys had a look on their face of pure delight.
Home… food… sleep!
People tried to talk to them, but neither were capable of conversation, however trite. They soothed their way through the crowd, saying whatever they needed to pass free. People surely saw the tiredness on them, the few who were up at such an ungodly hour.
“Wait… crowds?” he asked himself aloud. Why are there crowds here? Who are all these people?!
He wanted to ask Jiehong, but he was already making a beeline for the center proper. Jie either didn’t care or did not notice.
Oh, how I want to be Jiehong. Zan wanted nothing more than to head off and sleep. As it stood, he endured micro-naps. Moments of consciousness bled into unconsciousness.
Walking back to the center, he felt a pull.
“Hi. How are you?” he said to a stranger he had never seen before. Which fed into his question: where did these fair folks come from?
The stranger turned to address him: “Poorly. You wisecracking mongrel!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said. “But why are you here? What happened?”
Instead of an answer, he received a string of curses. He resisted an impulse to slap this lady back to sensibility. He walked away.
Finding another stranger, he asked them the same question: ‘why are you here?’
The new stranger told him, “We fled our farm near the border… were going to the capital, but a huge enemy force cut us off. We had to divert around here; are you the lord of this realm’s son? If so, then please thank your father for me. What a kind man he must be to allow us into his home and protect us.”
He walked away from the man. What he was saying made no sense. They thought this was some duke’s fiefdom. He had to learn what happened; he would go talk to the Wardens.
Walking down to the war-room he saw Sigma-Prime milling about, checking information displayed on several monitors. The Screen Master spoke, “Zan, welcome back! Jiehong has entered his bedroom for rest. I advise you to do the same. You look vanquished.”
“How can you tell I am tired?” he asked, wondering if it was only the heavy black bags under his eyes or if there was another tell.
“Your communication device allows me to monitor your basic vitalities. Part of it is technically inside of you. But that was not my only way of knowing you need rest. Your eyes, general disposition, told me a lot, as did your lack of energy. And, just coming from a mission—”
“Okay, okay, enough!” he said, interjecting. “I am going to bed. Before I do, what is with the new people?”
“Shortly after you departed for your mission, a large movement of civilians fleeing the conflict entered the region. A volunteer from your village saw their pitiable state while hunting, leading them here after taking pity on them. Do you disagree with your community’s offer or peace? If so, I can rescind the offer on your behalf,” Screen Master Simulacrum said.
He had to make a choice. He was the leader, right?
“I don’t care if they stay, Screen Master. They’re my fellow countrymen, right? But do they have food? We have nothing here in the command center they can use, do we?” Zan replied, letting the first things which came to mind out.
“They appear to have brought some supplies with them. How long it will last them, however, is uncertain. Opening supply lines to acquire the resources needed to care for them should be the top priority outside of the war situation.”
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Many thoughts came into his mind but all of them ended with him feeling stressed beyond care. He told the Screen Master, “As long as they don’t cause trouble, as long as they can fend for themselves, I don’t care. Let them stay. Now, I need to bed go to… you know?”
Realizing he said the words out of order, he threw his hands up and walked to the side, entering the stairs leading down to the barracks and his own personal room.
He closed and locked his door. He wasn’t thinking anymore. His bed might have been basic, but that was exactly his style. Better than the blanket on the floor Jie’s family gave me when I first moved in with them…
Lying on his mattress, he fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, a statement not at all an exaggeration.
He slept for as long as he needed. The war would continue without him; he might be a valiant Ranger-Knight (in-training) but he still was only one-man. One young man.
He would wake, then return to sleep. Sometimes, semi-periods of wakefulness dominated his perception. Being all similar, however, they blended into something he could only describe as a 'mélange of consciousness,' of one sensation blending seamlessly into another.
His life became a blur of sleep, stretching, then sleep.
Sometimes during his awake moments, he would see gray shadows dance with the light from beneath the door. Dust clung to the air… sleep.
And more sleep.
Boy, did he love sleep. He couldn’t quite describe how much he liked it.
Finally, he felt rested enough to resume his day… whatever 'day' it was, in fact, as he felt too discombobulated to have a proper sense of time. Rising from his bed, he woke and lazily walked up to the command room.
Silence. Blessed silence.
“Good morning, Zan! How are you feeling?” Sigma-Prime asked.
“So good,” he replied, groggily. “Jie still asleep?”
“Jiehong is still in his room, yes. Would you like something to eat? While you were asleep, I appropriated some food from your community for the rental tax. I also organized your village, and the newly arrived folk, so each had a relatively equal amount of space,” Sigma told him.
“Rental tax? Like, we’re charging them money just to exist?”
“If you dislike the rental tax, I can rescind the order. However, you have no source of income or subsistence resources. Without the means of survival from day-to-day, your efforts in liberating this land will come to naught. Please note, I informed the community from which you hail the rental tax was myself and the Screen Master’s idea.”
Sigma-Prime made sense. Although he disliked the idea of ‘taxing’ the community, which raised him, he needed food. He needed the basic means of survival; and right in that moment, his stomach growled too fearsomely to ignore. “Very well, Sigma. Please tell them this is only a temporary measure. An emergency measure while we are sorting everything out.”
“Of course, Master,” Sigma-Prime said.
“Master?” he asked.
“Master is an old term to denote the commander of a base. Multiple levels of ‘Master’ exist; do you offend to the term?”
Honestly, he did not know if he ‘offended’ the term. It was more he didn’t expect such a powerful term to apply to himself. Before he could think to ask why he would take offense to the term, his rumbling stomach demanded its due.
“No, fine… what about that breakfast?” he asked.
“I have placed the good down in the basement kitchen. Help yourself, Master. As base commander, you have complete control over how the base’s resources.”
“Cool… cool. Do you have cooking skills? Can I ask you to make me something?” he wondered aloud to Sigma.
“Unfortunately, I lack culinary skills within my database,” Sigma said, confusing Zan. “However, although I cannot cook for you, there are many people outside. I would suggest recruiting a cook from the newcomers. Their service to the encampment can be their tax.”
“I like that. Is this a service I can pass off to you?” he asked.
“Your wish is my command, master. Unfortunately, it will take time to locate a chef. Meanwhile, you will need to fend for yourself. If you have questions, never hesitate to reach out.”
He thanked Sigma for her help and went down to the kitchen. He had food to prepare. Luckily for him, his culinary talents were slightly above miserable. On more than one occasion, he and Jiehong had to cook over an open campfire, so he knew the basics.
Although he found the kitchen easy enough in the basement, within a wing of the command center close to the barracks, there was something off about the wing which he could not account for… something old, off-putting...
Before he walked into the kitchen-proper, he looked around at the nearby rooms. Or wanted to but couldn’t because of every single one of the doors were locked. Six doors and not a single one so much as budged.
What is this place? He asked. Other than some musty smell, nothing looked out of place. It all looked smooth, shiny black minerals of a type wholly mysterious to him. He saw his reflection travel with him as he walked, like all the walls were one big mirror. Same as any other part of the command center. If so, though, why did it feel weird?
‘I’m just overtired,’ he reasoned. He would ask Sigma about it later. For now, food!
Walking into the kitchen, he was then presented with a shocking sight. Waiting for him inside was a woman. A woman with some words, which shocked him even more.