Chapter 25: City Conquerors (Part 2!)

Lined up against the walls like merchandise, the drunken raiders were forced to squat. With their ankles bound, all they could do was sway side to side and balance with their hands. And I must say, seeing the sight of drunk men trying to not to fall is always funny.

What is also funny, if not more, was the amount of casualties. The prostitutes had an army of a hundred versus the Tripolians with about two hundred. Right now there had been twenty two killed raiders, fivity six wounded, and the rest captured and awaiting punishment. The prostitutes didn’t have any major loss… well, aside from Skaldi losing his eye.

I must remind you how much technology and a group driven towards a common good can be a strong force. But then again, you don’t have to be a genius to realize that having most of your men wasted on Iozian alcohol wasn’t a strategic decision.

Nor was sending the only sober men in your band to chase after a scarecrow. Speaking of which, Vega was taking care of repossessing all the goods that the raiders took.

“Ya have the right to remain silent. Give up your shit and ya will be slapped without incident!” Vega ordered fiercely, while holding out her pickaxe drenched in the brain of the Snake Skin. The raiders who didn’t understand a word she said, responded by showing her all the stuff they stole. Along with pissing their pants every time seeing her.

The town guard back in Cold Cavern felt that she needed an attitude when dealing with criminals since her voice inspired more levity when menace was needed. So under the orders of the Captain, they created a script which Vega copied and did without fail. After that when she told bandits to freeze, they really would freeze!

Yet the slapping part… was all Vega’s doing. She saw a dad spanking a kid and felt that would be necessary to add in.

The raiders’ butts were quite sore after that.

The battalion with the help of the prostitutes who were, again, the only people with a functioning liver, reestablished order in Fort Jao. Many of the centurions brought out their stashes of food as the people hadn’t eaten food that wasn’t coated in wine in days.

Notice the kindness, the great and free kindness. Study it my student, its forms and its habits. How it roams from street to street, and in the form of men armed. Consider it, the starving folk and how they would elicit empathy from the killers of Iozia.

Groups of soldiers feeding them the food that was theirs just an hour ago. That they saw another and chose to be with them. That these men came here to break but ended up healed this fracture.

For best and for worst, the image of a typical Iozian was a recovering addict, lusting for substance, but fighting against the nature that was sold to them. Victims that were made a long time ago.

This believed weakness was true, along with the strength of being one. To be driven from stability, to be a stranger in a strange land, and yet swam into the sea of death that stretched into the foreseeable future without boundaries or limits, shimmering like bones in moonlight.

Regardless of the tragedy that befall all Iozians, these soldiers choose to help these hungering citizens, forgetting that they were violence of a government personified. Only knowing that people were hurt and needed to help.

Dare I say, I’m quite pleased with the revolt’s result.

However, I wasn’t as pleased to see that the battalion was ready to give out awards for literally doing nothing. The bodies hadn’t even been buried, but Det decided it would be best to do a quick recap and recognize the true leader of the uprising.

Setting up their standards and flags in the Assembly, the battalion took care to honor the hero of the Oligarchy today. And they were stunned to see a serpentine lady accept that honor without question. What they didn’t know was that Skaldi refused the offer, choosing to sleep.

“I would likes to thanks the academy and all my workers.” She called with a heavy heart, crying and sniffing into a handkerchief. This got claps from her workers, groans from the centurions, and a smile from Vega.

“Isn’t this great-great? We’re really heroes, Kaliba!”

“Sure-sure.” The crow humored her while eating from a bucket of chicken. Bolato attended the bootleg ceremony, standing on the platform right beside Det. Det shuffled over silently and spoke plainly.

“This is a load of barnacles. It should be you getting the Heart of Honor.”

“Yeah sure,” Bolato said sarcastically, “She was the one with all the manpower and she did all the prep work. I wouldn’t try to take that from her. On soldier’s honor.” Bolato put his hand on his chest, satisfaction that Det wasn’t at all lacking the ceremony. He wanted to let him know that his duty as commander extends beyond being uncharismatic.

Det knew Bolato was hiding something, concealing an inner secret. But he wished not to ruin Bolato’s confidence and went along with the blubbering boss’s performance. Vega laughed at the act, believing it was fake. Everyone else, including Kaliba, had more than enough of her sniffing the moment she got on stage. Vega joyfully remarked and wondered how all of this started.

“Thank ya voice. I never would have been here without ya.”

The bed soaked in his salty sweat, Skaldi groaned through his soul. The dress on him was sticking to his back, and the bandages itched like a hole ant hill was on his face.

Disorenating, was the word he thought. He knew he only lost roughly twenty five percent of his vision, but he already felt its effects. Knocking over the water on the desk beside him, he couldn’t tell how far and close things were now.

Eliminating his sense of smell, he tried to replicate the depth his sight had.

All he could create was a failed copy.

“Damn… it.” Skaldi croaked out, sitting up in his bed. Knowing that his head would take a long time to heal, Skaldi’s insecurity came to him again. Seeing his bandolier on his lap, he took out a single dagger. A diagram for the anatomy of an elf pinned on the wall in front of him.

The figure before him was masculine, one side naked the other reddish muscles and organs. Tensing his thumb across the metal, he knew the way to hold it quite well. But his coordination was off, only viewing from the left. Skaldi focused his eyes on the diagram and started to give up his sense of smell and taste. However, he stopped.

Smelling the lovely jasmine heat of the room, tasting the tea he drank a few minutes prior. All the lovely wonders of the world were there, free and unbound. He wasn’t going to trade some for the whole. He wasn’t going to comprise himself, not anymore.

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“I lost a lot. I can’t change that. But I’m not going to give it up.” Confidence boomed in his system. Aiming his dagger slowly, he threw with the elegance of a bird learning to fly.

The throwing dagger bounced off the wall and clattered onto the floor. This should have been simple, easy as it had always been for him. Skaldi breathed hard as a shame filled him. A tear of a hundred worries fell from his eye, but he gritted his teeth, summoning the resilience of a thousand hearts.

“I won’t stop. I won’t let go.”

Bored soldiers walked out in droves and proud prostitutes (funny, I know) walked out in order. The day was theirs, no one could ever take that from them. Muffled laughter came from all around, as well as glowing smiles and roaring cheers.

Only a few days ago they would have been an object for pleasure, nothing more. But now the men staring at the prostitutes gave looks of admiration. That they weren’t less than, but more than they could ever be.

With the evening stars sparkling in the snowy sky, they knew today was a change, perhaps a turning point for their future. In fact, some of the battalion felt compelled to give them some pointers on their formations. Not only that, but the boon the boss got was enough to put them all through an upper class education leaving everyone overjoyed.

Everyone except Potenti, fearing the future of Skaldi. Before this day, she imagined him to be the cunning hero she read in stories, ever bold and bright. Now when she imagined a victim of the approaching war. Unable to see beyond his damage, unable to be anything else to those that observed him.

“Can he survive? Can the dead walk again?” She murmured to herself, sitting down on an empty street corner. Snow piled up on walls as the rest of the raiders were being processed. Gazing at the men, she thought of the alcohol Skaldi always drank, how he was similar to these Tripolians. Potenti remembered the honor she had felt, but she knew there was no honor in weaklings.

“I’m not so sure about dead walking, but I'll survive, maybe.” Skaldi creeped behind her, with the bluehead jumping up and palming her hands to her mouth. Skaldi with freshly wetted hair and skin stood tall despite his bruises all around him. Purple circles dotted all around him but none on his forehead.

“I’m sorry that I worried you, but I’ll be fine. Well, as fine as you can be.” Skaldi stepped closer, placing more weight on his left foot. “Tell me, was the ceremony all that you wanted it to be?” Skaldi snickered out, trying to show Potenti he was in good spirits.

“Haha, it was quite the show. Boss got her purple heart, and we got plenty of cash. A cart full of silver. It’s going to be split up tomorrow, will you be there?” Potenti asked, softly rubbing Skaldi’s upper arm.

He took her all in, seeing that his plan had worked. Potenti had been wearing a winter coat with a thick skirt. An illustrious blue with sleeves decorated with flowers, and the skirt she had made, the one she showed him back on the first night they had met. She was a feminine genius, full of imagination and hope.

Her palms covered in silky gloves, ready to be used. He knew her work had only begun. But now, she wasn’t weak, she knew she was strong.

But himself, he believed he was weak, but knew he could achieve the power he so desperately desired. Not for himself, but to those that he loved. Closing his eyes with grief, his heart became heavy.

“Sorry, but my team and I have to go.” He replied, intending her to know that it wasn’t a choice he wanted to make. Bolato and Amir understood that this revolt put big targets on their back and Det could only stop any further investigation for so long. Potenti didn’t know this, but she accepted him.

Skaldi arrived here and brought her the event that would calm and encourage her for years to come. She could live with that and she would smile at his leaving.

“Potenti, you’re a great woman. Don’t let anyone, even yourself tell you otherwise.” Skaldi stepped quietly into the fog of white, as Potenti let him go. Her heart jumped for a moment, reaching for a treasure unreachable.

“But what about you? Don’t you want to see all the good you’ve earned? What you fought for? For what you gave up?” Potenti, futile as her plead was, wanted a glimpse behind his blue eyes, to see beneath the sea of which Skaldi swam alone. To know how he did it all.

“Come on! I have a kid to look after. Well, look after as best I can…”

Only for an instant, not a moment longer, she saw how hurt he really was. But he banaged himself with a phrase he heard when entering this city.

“What matters is that we tried to make a world with less suffering.”

Skaldi whispered the phrase sweetly. He performed an elvish bow to her, throwing his hair to his back and waved her goodbye, disappearing into the snowdrift.

Potenti’s eyes cried, cried for all those years she had lost to others and herself. A puddle of still unfrozen water was beside and she accidentally stepped in it.

When it stabilized, she saw herself. True and pretty. She had realized herself.

The ship Det provided was easy to operate since it only had a single mast, so Bolato didn’t have any great disagreements. The Pinnace, otherwise a light boat, stored the wagon inside, though cramped as it was. Enough storage space for the centuries to rest however. Roughly thirty feet in length and ten feet in width, this recon vessel accompanies galleys of the Iozians.

Alone in the blue fog of the waters, the team recovered. Bolato had always wanted to be a captain, retiring on a ship that was ported to an island or a coastal village. Simple and undisturbed. But he knew he needed a lot of money, which he and the party lost.

Well, more like paid Det five thousand gold for a ship and silence that they had never been in Fort Jao. Ten thousand gold was a lot, but he knew they would need a lot more in order to secure their safety and make sure the road ahead of them was unplagued by bounty hunters.

Despite this effort, he saw Skaldi showing off the trinkets he had stolen in Fort Jao, much to Valiato’s faint amazement. She was pleased to see them, but still disliking Skaldi’s conduct. As she looked at his face, she took glances at her own hand, branded. She didn’t want Skaldi to suffer the same scars that were given to her.

The soldier felt lucky that no one had been following them, trying to capture them and gain their prize. But he believed that would change when they arrived at the capital of Periatus. Raising his fist into the air, he could tell with some time that the wind was going against them.

In his teen years Bolato trained here in the Yutai Basin, as most recruits in the navy do. Checking the rigging, ensuring that the wagon’s centuries were fed, and cleaning the sleeping quarters of any pest, Bolato felt right at home. Following this, he tested the speed of the vessel

“So captain, how's the sailing?” Florato rested her head on the balcony of the ship, gazing at the rope he placed an hour ago.

“Ships have different measurements of speed. With that rope and the knots on it, we can gauge that in, well, knots. The wind isn’t favoring us, but this beaute has quite the maneuverability.” He relinquished the details, rubbing the wooden wheel that piloted the ship. Bolato spoke like a father appraising his son, glad despite imperfect conditions.

“I see. Plenty of sails should get us there in no time. How far is the city? I have never been.” Florato said getting closer to Bolato. She pulled out the map since Vega trusted her even though she couldn’t read it. Handing the paper over, both of their eye’s came to the center of it.

The Yutai Basin was the mouth of three rivers that flowed into the Thakian Sea. In reality it was a freshwater lake that was the fourth largest in the western continents. The distance that their vessel needed to travel amounted to an adventure of two thousand miles. Bolato then counted the knots, which was a sad four. Four knots was a slow pace for the Pinnace but it wasn’t unacceptable. The actress saw the annoyance on Bolato’s face and laughed.

“Going to take a while, huh?” Florato remarked, pleased that she would have some peace for a while.

“I guess.” He conceded. “Four knots is about four miles per hour. Traveling at four knots and perhaps the wind changing, we should get there in a week or two.” The actress closed her eyes and raised her head to the sky, enjoying this idea of a simple sea travel. No battles, no wars. Just an earned silence.

She waited for Bolato to give her a joke or a stoic response, but all she heard was him reclining on a stool. Florato, without looking, knew that he was analyzing Skaldi, so she didn’t continue.

Skaldi is growing, Bolato knew. His performance with the stolen items was vain, yes, but he could tell that Skaldi cultivated an inner purpose. He hoped that Skaldi would notice him but the elf focused on Valiato, trying to make up for lost time. Bolato’s hand went to lips, brushing them. How would he kiss? How would he hug? How would Skaldi smile?

All of these spawning and unceasing questions in the soldier's mind. One answered with Skaldi picking Valiato up, causing her to giggle in surprise.

“You alright sweetpea.”

“...Yeah. Yeah I am Ska.”

The left side of his face creased while the other raised slightly, like steam coming from a covered pot.

The soldier was relieved that Skaldi was maintaining confidence, no matter how fragile it was. Bolato loved Skaldi, and wouldn’t want him to hurt himself for others. Despite this, he knew he was going to fight for anyone in need. He would not remain weak anymore. He won’t stop. He won’t let go.