Lancer stood on the highest feature of the flat plain and gazed out across the desert to the south. Ages ago, countless boulders had been dragged across that same ground and piled to create the large hill beneath him. The pile was precarious, made as steep as possible to attain the greatest height. Boulders dredged out of the sediments of the canal and hauled by clockwork machines in the time when the Sisters had many more clockworks at their command, and much more freedom.
Long ago, when the weather had been still improving, the sisters had attempted to make a lasting outpost here and establish a settlement to work the salt pans. This pile of stone remained, but the sisters and the settlement did not. But it had not for the lack of trying, one thing of evidence being a holding cell that had been built into the rock. It was said that it had once held Reavers that had been ravaging the trading route. Some even remembered tales of the village that had once been here, but no one could recall its name. And now the weather was worse and far too hot for anyone to attempt another settlement here.
The sun was setting now, and Lancer stood his post, outside a tent on the very top of the hill and watched a string of soldiers make its way toward the canal. From below, on the desert floor, the soldiers wouldn’t be able to see the canal, but from up here, the low sun was turning the canal into a narrow glow of orange light.
It was especially hot here, and they needed a constant supply of water. Even the drift lizard would bury itself in the loose sand at the height of the day to escape the punishing sun. The only reason they had bivouacked here was because of the holding cell.
Hearing the expected rustle of the tent flap behind him he turned. The young Optio ducked through the opening and the Lancer met him with a salute.
The young man, seemingly oblivious to the Lancer's presence, stepped forward to tighten his sword belt. His gaze was fixed on the line of soldiers to the south, and he retrieved a field-glass from a side pouch to study them. The Lancer observed the young man and his telescope, a hand-crafted marvel with glass ground to perfection in the City of Baal. The value of the glass, along with the flintlock pistol on his harness and the sabre on his belt, far exceeded anything the Lancer had ever seen. Rumour had it that the young Optio hailed from a wealthy merchant family in Central City that had supported the spies of The People’s Army. His family were said to have been collaborators who helped throw the gates of the city open to the invading army.
“Nine men again. I told you to stop sending complete sections. I have told you to retrieve water for a platoon for a day. You need only send three teams to carry that ammount, not four. Your actions betray a misunderstanding of the application of manpower. A waste of manpower I will not permit.”
The big man ran his hands through a flurry of motions.
“I know they are new recruits and not experienced soldiers, but demands need to be placed on them, or they will never learn or attain adequate conditioning. That is the goal of all training. Learning and conditioning.”
The big man gestured to the Optio’s pistol and sword and held up three fingers.
“And I’ve already told you, the intelligence reports state there is absolutely nothing in this area to concern ourselves with. What do they need extra men and weapons to protect themselves from, then, exactly? I have been sharing most of my reports with you so that you may understand these advanced concepts.” He finally looked up at the big man, who simply returned his stare. “Never mind. Entirely my fault. A good officer always attempts to improve those under his command, but I see I may have been overestimating your potential.” He flung his hand over his shoulder, “At least you have erected the antenna properly. I have excellent communication with the optic here from this elevated position.” The long strip of metal fibre was off its spool and led from the top of his tent pole down the rocky cliff to lay east out across the desert floor.
The spool reminded the big Lancer of the Warrant, and how much he didn’t want to be here. And if it hadn’t been for the purification masks the lizard man had left them, the storm would have suffocated them. He missed his brother and the other soldiers of quality of his old platoon. But this young fool of an Optio had written him a reassignment order and had taken him to gather and train new recruits. The army knew there was no place left to take recruits from. But the fool of an Optio had pressed into service a group of young, timid, and weak boys from the surrounding hamlets along with a group of violent criminals that he had freed.
The young Optio checked his uniform and weapons one more time to ensure he had nothing out of place. He was meticulous in this. Clean-shaven and ‘well-turned-out’ was what he demanded from his green boys and the former convicts. Even if they had to haul extra water all night to do it. The lancer ran his gaze over the guy wires, steaks and poles of the Optio’s tent to ensure nothing there was out of place. Staking the tent on the very top of the cairn had been a daunting task. The young Optio wouldn’t let him bind and lash lines to any of the boulders but instead insisted that metal pinions be used, as per the soldier’s manual. Each pinion had been chiselled and hammered into the rock face.
The young man took the steep narrow path down to the desert floor and the lancer fell in behind him.
“Tomorrow evening we will correct your overestimation on the water brigade. It is still a grand start to our day, Lancer.” The Optio began. He insisted on always maintaining this jovial air, implying to all those in earshot that he would be put out by nothing, no hardship could bother him, and all others had no excuse not to carry on with this same happy ‘chin up’ type attitude.
The big man replied with a grunt, an agreeing sound, but he did not agree. This young, overzealous fool, with his idiotic attitude, was going to eventually get them all killed, just like he had killed the three of them in the storm weeks ago, if it hadn’t been for the lizard man.
“You have secured the mycota bandages?”
Another affirmative grunt.
“Good. But still, the count is off, so a few unaccounted for?”
Another grunt as they descended to the bottom of the narrow rock path and strode out on the desert floor to the waiting men. These men the lancer had formed up in two rows and left standing to attention, waiting in the setting sun for him to return with the optio.
The collection of men and boys were wet through with sweat. With one section gone on the water run, two rows of nine remained here, standing to attention, ready for inspection.
Lancer followed the Optio down the first line of troops. The Optio halted in front of each man to inspect if they were properly turned out; their uniforms were correct, and they were properly shaven. Some of the boys were still too small to properly fit the uniforms, so the uniforms were left in the draught cart, and they wore the cloth of their villages slung with weapon belts. The front row was good, or, as well as could be. This row was comprised of all the young men not much younger than the Optio himself. They were small and slender, either malnourished or simply too young.
They had been camped here for a few days, and the lancer had spent time with the recruits, showing them how to properly wear and maintain military equipment. This first row had been equipped with stun batons, and now the Optio had asked to see a few to check that they were charged and clean.
The rear row was another story. None of these men had been allowed weapons. Rough, nasty men that had been pulled from the slave gangs. Most wore the carved scar of the convict on a cheek or brow that now glinted with the Optio’s gold ring. These men were more difficult to deal with. Some had their uniforms in a shambles. Most did not care, and only a few reluctantly seemed to have made any attempt at dress and decorum. One older man still wore a full beard and, through his stutter, said that he had never shaved in his life. At least he seemed to attempt to stand at attention as best he could, twitching and jerking in place.
It was the man beside the bearded twitching man, of all these men, that bothered Lancer the most. He was known as Ghost and although a slave, he had been the Dragline for the other slaves, the one who kept order for the bosses. His skin, his hair, everything about him was pure white. He said, like Twitch, he had been born that way. Over the top of his uniform, while the sun was still up, he insisted on wrapping himself in rags. He said his skin would burn as if it was in a fire from sunlight. He stood there now, swaddled in rags so heavy that Lancer could not even see his eyes.
“Uncover your face.” The Optio ordered.
Ghost did as he was told. He was a big enough man. Not nearly as large as Lancer, but few men were. Ghost looked of a size and build that would stand well against an average-sized man. He unwound the swaddling around his face to reveal snow-white skin, a ‘K’ carved in one cheek under the Optio’s ring and eyes that had been replaced with optical lenses. His eyes shone with black glass.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“I thought as much. I could smell the sour stink of mushrooms. You are intoxicated. You have been eating the stolen mycota bandages.”
Ghost said nothing. He didn’t have a fresh shave, and stubble glinted white in the sun.
“So you are a murderer and a thief. I expected better behaviour from you. You should be thankful that I have recruited you and freed you. I have granted you a new lease on life. This is your new dawn.” The Optio paused, waiting for a response, but Ghost stood, now staring to his front at some invisible point in the distance. The Optio continued in the uncomfortable silence, “Your new dawn, and this is what you do with it?”
The Optio waited, studying those flat glass eyes, then shook his head and took a step down the ranks of men, but at a half stride, Ghost said something that caused the Optio to check his stride.
“What was that? Speak up, man.”
Ghost spoke quietly. A loud monotone whisper.
“It is sunset.” Ghost said.
The Optio returned to stand in front of Ghost. “So?”
“So this would be my new sunset, not my new dawn, which, to be honest, an ending of things is how this feels, and not a beginning. And the ‘K’ the men carved into my cheek long ago stands for killer, not murderer. And all these men in the rear rank have partaken of your bandages, and some of the boys in the front.”
“Sir.” The Optio added.
Ghost said nothing.
“You are required by military law to apply my honorary. For example, you would say, ’K’ stands for killer, ‘Sir.” The Optio said and waited.
“You will repeat after me recruit. K stands for killer, SIR!”
Ghost stood motionless.
“If you do not do as I have ordered, you will be in violation of regulations, and I will have you punished. You will be made an example of as I will have Lancer enforce military discipline in front of the men. All situations are a learning experience. Do you understand?”
There was a long pause and Ghost took a look at the big lancer. Finally he replied, “’K’ stands for killer…, Sir.”
“Very good, recruit. A good officer always works to improve those under his command. And there is a difference? Between a killer and a murderer? Really?” the Optio chuckled.
“A murderer plans and executes a death. A killer, well, that is just happenstance. A fortuity. A chance event. A misunderstanding in a trade. A friendly tussle that becomes an accident. A sudden temper or an unexpected response sometimes decides who goes to meet their maker, and who stays to have a letter carved onto their face… Sir.”
“I see. Everything is a mistake. I’m sure just the same as getting intoxicated from stealing, fermenting and consuming the army ration of bandages that I was allocated for the treatment of wounds. All just a big mistake.”
“No Sir. No mistake. It was done intentional like, but you can’t charge me with that.”
“How so?”
“There were witnesses to the killing I did. You don’t have any witnesses to the theft of those bandages. You only have proof of the consumption. These rouges here you have, an undisciplined lot here, Sir, can become quite unruly. Not a place for yourself or these young boys.”
“What did you say?” The Optio’s tone turned sour for the first time that morning. The big man, Lancer, took a step closer to the man called Ghost. “Are you threatening me?”
“Without a proper guard, these men will begin to murder these young boys and eat them.”
“Are you implying that I have no control of this encampment?”
“Run the way you’re runnnin’ it Sir, this camp won't last long. This big man here you brought with you to ‘enforce discipline,’ as you call it, can have his throat slit easily in his sleep. He knows. Ask him why he hasn’t been sleeping. He sits outside your tent all day while you're blissfully asleep on the inside of it. He can’t keep that up for much longer. And have you asked him why he sends extra armed men on the water run? To protect against the same criminals you sent with them slaughtering the rest of the recruits in those work parties. You need to let me run things on these men, just as I did as Dragline back at our slave field. You give me a blade and set up Twitch here as my number two like he’s always been and I’ll be your proper guard… Sir.”
“I see, recruit. Well, you seem to think you know quite everything. It’s incredible how the Lancer and myself have been able to make it so far. As you must know, we are about to start our first combat training phase this evening. Tell me, if I did give you a blade, what would be your first thing to do with it? Please enlighten me on your decision-making processes to prove yourself capable of controlling these men. Since I am unable,” The Optio gave a chuckle, “What would your very first action be with a knife in your hand? Please, inform me and the men.”
“I would slaughter the drift lizard and feed all the men proper meat. Would take the threat to these young boys and yourself down a notch or two.”
There was a hushed affirmative from the new soldiers.
“I see. Well, rice meal and hard tack is a healthy enough diet for men in the field if not carried on for too long, and the men need to learn to condition themselves if they are ever going to be part of a march. If you slaughter our one draught animal, how would me move our wagon full of supplies and equipment?” The Optio’s tone was jovial, as if talking to a child.
“This big dumb mute, Sir.” Ghost said, indicating Lancer. “He could pull the wagon.” Muffled snickers erupted around them.
“You seem to be quite the wise and capable fellow.” The Optio took on a mock tone of thoughtfulness. “Tell me, recruit, what do you know of gargoyle cubs?”
“Plenty Sir. We used to crack open vaults back in the day…”
“You were in a Reaver gang then.” The Optio stated.
“No, not me, Sir. I was captured and enslaved by them. Drug around by them. Saw what they did…,”
“Of course, of course. You poor thing. Must have been awful for you. Tell me about the gargoyles.”
“We’d crack open vaults and take the findings for trade. Sometimes, really rare, we’d come across beings, you know, creatures. Lizard men. The ones covered with hair called men-keys. Bird brains. You know. Those were the real good finds. The Reavers would part them out or let them grow up a little and sell them as slaves. A very very few finds in the vaults were the gargoyle cubs.”
“Beasts. And you handled them all fine?”
“Of course. None were a problem, and the cubs, well, as long as they were infants.”
“And how was that determined?”
“How was what determined?”
“If they were a cub or an infant.”
“Infants are just like a human baby. Helpless. Can’t walk. No teeth. That sort of thing. But they're still cubs. But cubs may not be an infant any more. More like a child size thing. Wicked dangerous then. Best way to tell is they got teeth then, when they’re a cub, but not an infant, like.”
“We have a gargoyle here, in camp.”
“Yes Sir. Locked up in the ancient cell box. Everyone knows.”
“I’ll give you the blade you ask for.”
“Thank you, Sir. I’ll have this lot here under proper control for you in a quick blink, as long as you let Twitch here keep guarding my back.” The old bearded man nodded in agreement. “Twitch can’t do much. Won’t be able to fight for you or mend things, but he’s a good weather man, and a good tracker, and one of the best overwatch I’ve ever had. See, he’ll be provided for even though he can’t do much for work, make sure he gets his fair share of food, and he watches my back.”
“What good is he if he can’t fight?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, Sir. I fight well good enough for the both of us.”
The Optio continued as if he hadn’t heard, “Now that we have a proper camp built here, we will start training once the sun is set. I won’t have the men learning how to fight in the heat of day. No reason for it, and they can’t learn very well that way, can they?”
“Of course not. I’m also better in the night. The sun, you see...”
“Yes, I am aware. So you’ll be the first into the cage, and once you’re inside, you’ll get your blade.”
“Into the cage Sir? Inside the cage? Not while the cub is still in there?” It was the first time the whisper of Ghost’s voice began to hold any animation. The monotone was gone, replaced with worry.
“Yes, of course, you seem to know the most about everything out here. Being the most apt, you should be first. Earn your command and all that. You’d be surprised to know how many field promotions there are. The best place to get promoted quickly is in the field, just like this.” The Optio turned on his heel, arms outstretched, taking in the desert vista. “Such great opportunity we find in places such as this. You come out of that cage alive; you’ll have everything you asked for.”
“No thank you. I don’t think I’ll be doing any of that. You don’t have an infant in that cage. They say it has been weeks since the messenger from the Pirate King gave it to you. And no one knows how old it was before that. It could be well grown by now.”
“So. A man like you. A former Dragline to a group of slaves. You will throw away this opportunity to reestablish your positon?”
“If it’s no longer an infant, then nothing can stand against it. The older ones that were uncovered in the wild, would erupt from a vault, take out half of a gang of reavers and would disappear quicker than your mind could understand what had happened. I’ve seen it once, well, I’ve seen the remains once. Men. Strong men. All bent up and twisted. Arms thick with muscle and years of fight experience broken off, still clutching their weapons. Their heads stuffed full of sand. Nope, Sir. Don’t think so. Won’t be going into your cage after all thank you very much.”
“Really? It shouldn’t be that much of a problem. I do believe you exaggerate. Of all the beasts, our great Field Marshall considers them one of the greatest threats and was out exterminating them for years.”
“Lies. If he did actually find any, he could have only been killing infants.”
“You question our leadership?” This question was asked in anger.
“There is no question. I’m telling you a simple fact. How many gargoyle cubs have you come across, so far… Sir?”
The Optio backed away and in a resolved way, said,
“When the sun sets, you will be locked into the cage and will be handed any knife you think you can fight the best with. Two knives. I don’t care. You will go in there and show the recruits how to fight a beast. You don’t say no to a direct military order, recruit. If you reply in the negative again, I’ll simply have you killed for desertion of duty.”
The young Optio held Ghost's deadly gaze for a few moments, totally oblivious to or unconcerned with the anger that radiated back to him.
“Very good,” he said, raising his voice and announcing to the men, “Let’s get this inspection over recruits so you can enjoy your breakfast. Once the sun is down, training starts.” And the Optio spun away to resume his inspection of the men.
“It really is a grand start to our day, Lancer. So many problems solved. I really must congratulate myself. How things really seem to only get better under my command.”
The big man only grunted.