Chapter 36: Remember Calvin?

Normally, I wouldn’t care to send aid to random and unpredictable folk. Due to them being as secure as pebble in an earthquake, and it having no immediate benefit. Sometimes, there are people you shouldn’t bother with.

Dismas cared enough about Vega that he set out to find her. Well, finding her was the excuse he used when he took his first vacation in decades.

The mailman, now turned Cold Cavern’s head courier, commanded the caravan before Dismas. Three wagons protected by four guards and two horsemen scouting ahead. Dismas knew that bandits roamed these parts still.

One of the wagons carried Dismas and a few of his literate colleagues. The rest of the wagons were decidedly empty for the sake of bringing goods (stuff that Dismas really wanted to buy) back to the village. Luckily, the Captain would be acting as regent for the Cold Cavern, which allowed Dismas to relax as best as an overworked ruler could.

“How far is Core Civitus?” Dismas requested, as two of his colleagues had been hogging the map for quite a while.

“We’re making good pace. We should get there when night starts to come.”

“Good. It’ll sure beat staring at pure wildness for the past hours.” Dismas went to light his tobacco pipe but stopped when he saw a strange building pumping heaps of smoke. Water wheels crushing grain, bakeries working around the clock, and hundreds of soldiers planting fast growing cereal crops.

Dismas ordered his men to see the grain factory. He hadn’t even heard of such a thing being so close to him. Funnily enough, in both shape and color, the factory resembled a loaf of freshly baked bread. Delicious steam and warm browns made the whole sight delitable, and made Dismas quite hungry.

When the wagons stopped, the working soldiers only lifted their heads for a couple moments before returning to work. Dismas stepped down and walked to the most intelligent looking soldier, who was idle and cutting an apple with a knife.

“Hello soldier.”

“Hail! You seem rich.” He said with chunks of apple in his teeth.

“You wouldn’t believe it!” Dismas snickered as he spoke. “What’s all this then? I thought we’re going through a famine?”

“We are. Well, we were commissioned by the Oligarch to restore old industries that had been left alone.”

“All in preparation for the war effort?”

“Indeed.” The soldier answered. Dismas turned slowly, taking in the sight of industry and progress.

“Well. Progress develops best when smart folk work with the laborer.” Dismas said.

“Something like that. By the way, what are all you doing here? Who are you?”

“I’m Mayor Dismas. We come from Cold Cavern.” He raised his hand to his comrades, which the mailman promptly waved back, like an excited dog.

“Really?” The soldier leaned back in surprise.

“Yes. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Well, I could have sworn that a scarecrow came from that direction a few months back.” The apple man answered, pausing his eating.

“What?” Dismas' mouth and eyes opened high.

“Yeah, I heard that she was talking about a voice or something?”

“Huh.” He opened a pocket on his shirt, taking out the letter Vega first sent him. “A voice. She heard a voice.”

“She got anything to do with what your folk are doing out here?” The soldier offered a slice to Dismas, who promptly refused.

“Vega. Her name is Vega. She recently came into a lot of money and well… sent it back.”

“Who sent what back?” An authoritative voice shot out, catching the attention of the mayor and the working soldiers. From out of the main building of the factory, a centurion holding a pamphlet stepped into view. On a stairway above the mayor, he was writing on a pamphlet documenting production. “Because I swear if we didn’t get our weeks’ supplies.”

“No centurion.” Dismas climbed onto the stairway and came close to the centurion’s face. “Vega. She passed through here? Correct?”

“Vega? That scarecrow spirit?” The centurion laughed, reminiscing on his encounter with her.

“Yeah whatever-she passed through here? Said she was following a voice?”

“True. Had her protect some beans for us. Why you ask?” The centurion confirmed Dismas’s suspicions. Vega had a real impact on the world, and this was only the beginning of what could be magical. Not real magic, but you get what I mean.

“Listen. I need some extra men. I need some workers, some soldiers, and a man to help lead them.” Dismas frantically listed.

“What? You planning on building an army?” The centurion said jokingly.

“Yes.” Dismas communicated his ambition in a serious tone. The centurion took a glance towards the apple man, who nodded. Upon seeing the nod, he put down his pamphlet and pencil.

“An army you want? Well, what’s your price?”

“Huh?” Dismas was taken aback, surprised at their genuine attitude.

“You’re a mayor, right? Me and my men are ready to go. We have more than enough equipment. Plenty of workers to continue production, so long as you pay them/” The centurion said with a big smile, full of admiration. “What needs doing?”

Money can’t buy you happiness. But for everything there’s gold. And if one of those things was roughly a hundred soldiers and a caravan big enough to supply them, then gold can definitely buy it.

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Due to Dismas’s position of being Mayor, he could freely recruit idle soldiers as long as he paid the Oligarch they served under. For a century of troops, Dismas paid twenty thousand gold for recruitment and supplies.

Not only this, but an additional ten thousand for the construction materials needed to build the many projects for Cold Cavern. Sending twenty soldiers to upgrade Cold Cavern, he kept the remaining amount and traveled onward to Core Civitus.

As Dismas’s army marched into the city, the forests overlooking it were overgrowing and there were no logging camps. Dismas imagined that he might have forgotten about the New Years celebration.

Even with the many gravestones along the street, the road to Core Civitus felt lonely. All that remained was a single family partaking in a burial.

“Huh. For a place as big as this, and only one burial. Something’s off…” Dismas waved his caravan to stop. Snapping his fingers to two guards, each flanked his side as he walked to the family.

“Recor bless you.” Dismas tipped his hat to the grieving family. Two elders bowed and a blonde priest nodded.

“Recor bless you sir. What brings you here?” A voice too young came out from the priest.

“I wish to know what is happening in Core Civitus.” Dismas assumed an aristocratic posture, with a hand placed on the pommel of his sword. “Strangely quiet, is it not?”

“Aye sir. Next week is the beginning of Suncatch’s war season.”

“So early? Is it the famine?”

“No sir. No it is not.” The priest's forehead wrinkled as he went to place a flower on the grave. “Bandits. No, bandits funded by Tripolians. Had their arrows, our ships.” Dismas let the priest speak. “This one here… was an unfortunate one.”

“They raided Core Civitus?” Dismas interrogated, half sorry and half angry.

“Aye.”

Everything back in Cold Cavern was smaller now. Not because of the size of the city, but of the size of the lives living. And in all of the Oligarchy. He had to do something. He wanted to do something. To help.

“Here.” Dismas handed off a few silver coins to the family and priest. “I assure you. I will do everything in my power to prevent such tragedies from taking place again. Recor bless you.” Dismas shifted his heels and proceeded back to the caravan.

“Recor bless you.”

Planks, and the hammering of nails replaced the hustle and bustle of the city. Frames of boats were being constructed, as fleets of navy recruits practiced rowing. From tall wooden platforms, each man in only skirts and trousers, rowed in unison. An officer would yell heavily, the rower would yell ho. Heave. Ho. Heave. Ho. Songlike chants, but this wasn’t pleasing.

Skinny abs flexed and arms pulled and pushed. As Dismas observed their training, he saw women and children carrying pots of wine and water to the men, maintaining their stamina. Their order of processed wood and sweat nearly overpowered the Core’s scent.

It took Dismas’s army half an hour to process through. The security was on high alert, despite the centurion’s pleas. No matter who, everyone was under equal suspicion.

When they got inside the walls, the mood was notably more positive. Crowns of leaves or flowers were placed on the necks of the hardworking men and women who helped craft the boats. Although the streets had few passing carts or horses, the sidewalks and canals were packed. Whether this be a sign of stability or chaos, Dismas did not know.

“Mailman.” Dismas called him over.

“I have a name, you know.” He sassily responded.

“Not this again… fine. Juli, this is the place you used to work?” Dismas didn’t want to fight again so he conceded.

“Yes. We got a big order and I had to deal with it. Happened a month after the Concert of Combat.”

“Right.”

“Are you not going to ask me how it was?” Juli probed.

“Why? So I can hear about how a man beats another man for entertainment? Ha!” Dismas scoffed.

“The way you worded that sounds kind of homosexual.”

“The sport is kind of homosexual.” The Mayor insisted.

“Nevermind. What about my job?”

“They have boats?” Dimas questioned, now taking out a notepad.

“Nope. We’re land and sky, but no boats. The Oligarch confiscated them in preparation for the war season. Why do you ask?” Juli tilted his head to Dismas, who continued to write numbers on his notepad.

“Hmm. Well, if I have soldiers, I have to send them somewhere. Right?” Dismas was unused to explaining his thinking, much less his imagination. He had a plan, but one that he could not yet communicate.

“Soldiers tend to need that, yes.”

The two decided to enter into the mailing office, with the passing messengers and equestrians being notably quiet. Dark brown wood made the room into a bleak forest, with the reflective stone floor a moon shade. Men reached packages that Dismas knew were badges for soldiers.

Equestrians received military horse shoes, messengers transport lists of names of those being conscripted. Two men drank together in a corner. One woman wore a set of bronze plates, all cheap armor. She had been ordered to join the army.

Dismas didn’t look at them, understanding the mood was cold. He and Juli came to the corner and waited for someone to service them.

After a couple minutes, a man with purplish eye bags arrived.

“Hello sirs. How can I help you?” The man asked. Dismas sucked in air slowly and stacked five silver on the desk.

“A scarecrow named Vega was here a month ago. She sent money to Cold Cavern. Do you know where she went?” Dismas interrogated. The people in the office turned to him and went to grab daggers and weapons.

“We don’t negotiate with bandits.” The man told, pulling out a saber and placing at Dismas’s neck. He stood still, unfazed by the room’s reaction.

“I’m no bandit. I’m Mayor Dismas of Cold Cavern.” Dismas pulled out a white metal badge depicting a sunflower. Everyone put their weapons away, with Juli reassuring the man behind the desk.

“Sorry sirs.”

“No worries. I’m looking for her and where she went?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Dismas was stunned by the man’s tone.

“Because I don’t know why you’re going after her. You gonna steal the rest of HER money?”

“She donated to the hospital mayor. That same hospital saved my brother during the bandit raid.” An equestrian added. Dismas was confused. Vega must mean a lot to these folk.

“Calm down. I don’t seek to take anything from her.” Dismas held out his arms in a friendly manner.

“Then what do you plan to do?” The man questioned.

“...I want to help her. Is that enough?” Dismas admitted the truth. “When I got that money from her, I went to work. Cold Cavern has never been better. In fact, before the money came, the famine was taking its toll and I couldn’t do much but wait.”

Dismas turned to the other men in the room. “Now, because of her, I have power. The power to do what’s right. And I believe that she is still out there. Doing good. So please, help me to help her.”

The room froze for an instant, not a moment longer. It had been a long time since they had felt real inspiration. A real drive.

“Alright sirs. I’ll tell you.” He leaned forward to Dismas and Juli’s faces. “From what I remember, a boy named Luiocles gave her an object of great importance to transport to Periatus. Uvi Jantok, the capital. I don’t know what it was, only that she took it and left town with an actress. That’s all I know….”

Sitting beside the Titanica river, Dismas admired his fleet and his soldiers. Three ships, plenty of men, and enough blackpowder to level a city block. Now only having five thousand gold, Dismas set it in his personal bed quarters. As the last bit of supplies were being loaded on, he approached Juli.

“You think she’s alive?”

“Do you actually care?” The mailman responded.

“Kind of? I mean, she’s a good gal but damn she’s not right. Did I tell you she nearly killed a girl once?”

“No?”

“Oh. Well… remind me to tell you sometime.” Dismas chuckled, with Juli shaking his head in disappointment.

“You know, as much as I get annoyed with you, I like this job. Kind of.” Juli said.

“You know, I can say the same thing.” Dismas spoke to the emerald waters ahead.

The army set sail, onwards to Uvi Jantok. Hoping, believing that all they would encounter would only be a silly scarecrow. Dismas could only believe.