Company Unknown 5, page 45
I did not wait around for them or anyone else to chase after me and took to the air as soon as my left foot landed outside. Though there hadn’t been any signs of being followed, I did not wait around for my mana to recover when Flight finally ran out. I’d hated every minute of marching training (a.k.a. speed walking until we passed out) since I’d first become a monster hunter, but it did pay off. Like I’d done in the other world, I alternated between that and Flight whenever my mana recovered enough for another go.
Half an hour later, I still had no idea where I was, so therefore couldn’t know where I should be going. I just assumed I was somewhere south of my town when I’d started, for no discernible reason. Hadn’t seen a single landmark besides trees, more trees, and the occasional bush, so I just kept going.
“Something is always better than nothing,” as the saying goes. Eventually, I did find that elusive something. Too bad that the only thing the small, burned-out village gave me was its name, and I had never heard of Raez’A Eol. Two hours and four villages later, my patience paid off when I found a sign a few miles down the road. The arrow pointed to the capital (or where it used to be, anyway) and it was to the north; I just had to keep heading that way.
While the roads were faster when I was ground bound, I mostly avoided them. If any of the Prince’s agents were still loyal and about, roads would be the first place they’d look. I’d only bumped into this road by accident when it unexpectedly looped around. I still stayed as parallel as possible to roads though, as they did provide a good idea of the general direction to head in.
Of course, once past that massive wasteland that had held so many beautiful buildings (with the ugliest people in the best of them), no second sign appeared to guide me further. Our little town hadn’t been important enough for anything besides a worn pathway mostly made by the few souls interested in what we had. Gristlefrocket had been pestering me to build a road, now that I thought about it. Easy to forget, when the ancient little mayor had a new item for the to-do list every hour. I’d pushed roads down the priority list, as keeping us alive was a tad more important than the occasional coins from trade. As nice as it would have been, my unofficial tours of our surroundings had shown that there weren’t exactly a whole lot of people left to trade with us. Most of the survivors of the “invasion” had either sought refuge in our town or somewhere too far away for commerce.
We’d been on our own out here before we’d killed their king, and now we were even more so. Would his rivals thank us or see us as a threat? Only time would tell. Another problem to add to the pile. I’d long ago resigned myself to the fact the pile would never end. Just another day in the life of a monster-hunter commander and petty noble in a very petty world.
62
HOME SWEET . . .
Iknew I was home when the first arrow whizzed past my face. Though I couldn’t see the archer, I knew that if Viper had wanted to she could have easily put it between my eyes. It was a warning shot. If this had been the Prince’s people, well, they might have missed from being a lot less awesome, but there would have been more than one arrow coming at me. Thirty seconds after the sharp object thudded into the tree behind me, there was still no other sign of attack.
Much as I loved a nice, eerie silence, I decided to end it. “Most people introduce themselves with a ‘hi’ or if they’re like me, a middle finger.”
“Mer,” Viper said. “How do we know it’s you?”
“Is Dink there?”
“Do you still take out your shortcomings on innocent wood elves by—” a voice to her right started to ask.
“Giving them extra training? Metric, how much will another week bring his total to?”
I didn’t wait for her answer as I made my way into the open. It was something with a “three” in it. I made a mental note to get that up to a nice, round five by the end of the year.
The rest of the squad slowly slid out of hiding to meet me. There were a lot of relieved faces as well as a few that were trying to hide it, but I knew them too well. All the nerves and fear that I had suppressed faded away. I was safe, I was home, and I had returned to my family.
The greetings after we arrived back at our town were a little less shooty at the beginning and a lot more friendly. Just about every face lit up and washed away the filth of concern as soon as they saw me. The heart I’d always thought was long dead beat hard and bright. These people cared about me too. All but some of the newest arrivals were worried for me as a person and not me-the-guy-in-charge. I’d finally found my place in this world, and if everything went as I’d planned for our home, so had they.
Every single one of my advisors wanted me to take the rest of the day off after I told them of my journey, but I wouldn’t hear of it. My people counted on me; it was time to make their dreams come true . . . except for Dink. For him, it would only be the dreams that didn’t conflict with everyone else’s—and after paying for those naughty thoughts. I did appreciate him keeping me on my toes, but I’d never tell him that. It was too much fun not to. Everyone has to have a hobby, and we were each other’s. My other hobbies, however, were a lot less enjoyable.
The first problem involved a certain body I’d recently helped make dead. Though they’d already done it, I had them humor me and redo everything that proved the Prince was in fact dead. Much as I hated to admit it, having our own necromancer was a huge benefit. If the Prince were faking his death or in some sort of suspended animation, there was no way Lzulius would have been able to bring him back as a zombie.
I could have had a lot of fun doing things to Prince Zombie, but I had Lzulius sniff the unlife out of him before he took his first steps. Don’t know why, but it just didn’t seem right. I was definitely getting soft in my old age. What crotchety, boring mess would I be when I hit twenty? I pushed that awful thought away.
The test proved that the body was deceased, but I still had them run a battery of other ones. The less damaging ones went first, but by the end, if there were any life left in him, he’d find no body to inhabit. Burned, stabbed, chopped, and finally obliterated. The only question remaining was whether this wasn’t really him, or if he had indeed transcended mortality and found a way to move into other bodies. There wasn’t anything we could do about that now, but just like with his rivals, we’d have to keep an eye out.
Moving on from those fun ideas, I had my people resume the tasks from before the Prince’s attack: scout, watch, spy, and listen. With the nearest remaining town more than a hundred miles away, there wasn’t much we could do on the spying front, which was good in a way because we had few resources to pay for them and almost no one with any skills in that area. The best we had was the Crew’s retired members, such as Garin, who were out and about in the world. Though spying wasn’t anywhere close to their main jobs, they were still fairly effective. Moving around a lot and finding yourself in crowded bars with lots of others who also move around (and are extremely drunk and loud) does present lots of opportunities to hear things.
Ugly Jim had contacted nearly every single former member of the Crew in his travels to get them back home, so we knew where to find most of them. In the last few months, he’d gone back and distributed small communication crystals for them to report back. Very few had refused to accept them. Though they’d left us, the Crew was still their family. It was time to see what those gnarled, crinkly ears had heard.
Much as I hated Metric’s efficiency, the labels she’d put on the small crystals on the shelves in my office did make things easier. I plucked off the one with Garin’s name on it. Could have tapped it or even just thought about activating it, but shaking it was always my choice. Usually I found that fun, but this time . . .
“Cccccrap,” I said. “I’m the one who put those labels on. Stupid Bureaucrat skill.”
“You might want to redo those . . . unless you’re the one who gave me that new nickname,” the crystal said. “If I find out you were, I might stop helping you.”
“I said Bureaucrat skill, not Bureaucrat Stuffy Old Man,” I replied to Garin.
“Careful. If you keep talking like that to people who are helping you, you might not live to become a ‘stuffy old man’ yourself.”
“You know me, ‘Die young, die handsome.’ My first and last motto.”
“Liar. Just like I know you secretly love that new skill of yours.” Garin gave that knowing and annoying chuckle of his. “So, what do I owe the pleasure of this insult-ridden path down memory lane?”
“Don’t know if you’ve heard—”
“The Prince is dead,” he said simply. “Whistler told me earlier today.”
I’d forgotten Ugly Jim had also given Garin crystals to contact the others. Much as I liked talking to and annoying the old Crew members, Garin was better at it and lately had a lot more time. I hadn’t asked for him to become our de facto spymaster, but he was good at it (or at least better than me). Plus, he and most of the more powerful old members of the Crew had an unofficial agreement not to directly help us now that our town was rebuilt. They were following Mom’s plan to let us—mostly me—figure out the hard stuff ourselves so we’d grow. Indirect help like this, however, was evidently not off limits.
“And what else did the old ghoul tell you?” I asked. “What’s happening with the Prince’s remaining forces? What other players are left?”
“Reports are a little scattered now, but from what I’ve been able to read through the mess is that his forces are breaking up. His enemies are doing their best to scrape any pieces they can and add them to their own armies.”
“And the one in Dergenstein, the hidden one that’s bigger than all the rest combined?”
“We . . . it’s just becoming known to the rest. Given how that army is bigger than all the others combined, the remaining leaders are a little reluctant to approach it, but the gain is too great to avoid it forever. Only a matter of time before the remaining forces all try to take a piece.”
I sighed. “Meaning once they do, it will be the whole Prince/Scrotumio thing all over again for us.”
“If they got us all, yeah, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. Lots of mercs here . . . I mean there, and if any of those nobles had enough money to pay all of us, they would have already done it. There are a few groups from other Al Mazonin minor houses, but they’re a prickly, fractious lot. Only someone of the Prince’s charisma and rank could hold them together, none of the leftovers have anywhere close to either.”
“Wait,” I said. “You knew the force you’re with was loyal to the Prince?”
“A prince, not your prince,” he said. “You said yours was dead and a moron. This guy wasn’t either. A name would have helped a lot in telling which one you were talking about.”
I found my hand nervously tapping the desk. “Never actually found out what his name was, now that I think about it.”
“Wouldn’t have mattered. I never got my employer’s name either. Weird. Why didn’t I notice that until now?”
“Magic,” we both said together and then laughed.
“Please tell me none of these remaining assholes are wizards,” I said.
Garin snorted, then began going through what he’d learned of the five or six forces left vying for the throne. There wasn’t anything special about them. The biggest barely had about five hundred troops, most of lower-levels. None would be much of a threat, and that was only if they somehow decided to rush to my town halfway across Al Mazon and past several of their rivals. Our defenses were strong, we were more unified, and our best had levels on theirs. If they recruited some of the Prince’s forces, maybe, but it didn’t make a whole lot of tactical sense for any of them to take us on now. Once they eliminated a few of the others and recruited a bit more, though . . . Well, that was a problem for another time.
I was so caught in that brilliance that I almost missed the last name he said. “Could you repeat that?”
“Huh?” Garin asked. “Oh, the one that might already be dead is some ultra petty noble. The weakest of the lot. Seventh daughter of a twelfth son of some house from somewhere far away that bought them a tiny estate to shut them up. Judging by the name they picked, I’d imagine that was a tall feat. They called her Derriere Homicidio.”
My groan drew a questioning sound from Garin. I didn’t want to answer it but had to for the town’s sake. “Let me guess, the original house she descended from is the McMurders.”
“From what I’ve heard, that’s what they’re called now. Why?”
After going over my lengthy history with them, I finished with, “Learn everything you can about this one.”
Garin did not question me, and the call ended after a little more chatter about life. The rest of my afternoon was spent shaking other crystals and repeating that request to everyone else who would answer. Though I knew Garin was probably already doing the same, it was good to make sure they all got the message. Two people telling you to do something always sends a stronger message than just one.
And with that out of the way, it was finally time for some much-deserved rest. Ha-ha, kidding! The dozens of people I’d shoved away while doing that “super-duper-duper important thing” all came piling into my office. I’d thought Kickinstein’s idea to make my office part of my house efficient before, but now I saw it for the sinister trap it had always been. If I ever got out of here, I’d show that old half-orc what I thought of his scheme—not that it ever looked likely to happen—but at least I had something good to dream of while people dropped their mountain of boring problems on me.
First up—or rather, the first one I was actually paying attention to—was a two-for-one, or rather a two-halves-for-one. As overactive as my imagination was, it couldn’t go anywhere but here. Just staring at a functioning being who was two people slapped together down their middles was too mesmerizing to look anywhere else. How did his organs work? I wasn’t a doctor or even familiar with anatomy, but surely some of the halves didn’t just perfectly meld together. You’d think one of the hearts or stomachs had a part that stuck out. Gnolls and dogmen were two of the more similar races, but they had to have some different parts too. Maybe instead of splitting them, the magic that had made him just pulled the important parts out whole. Could have ended up with two hearts, two colons, and two . . . I found myself staring at his groin. His glares at my stares hadn’t deterred me, but that notion. . . well, listening to him was a good idea, after all.
“While my people do love roughing it—” the deep voice said.
“And mine do too,” a lower voice from the same mouth said.
“Well, obviously, they’re the same people. Now, stop interrupting.”
“Only when you do.”
He slapped himself until a voice somewhere in between the two came out. “If you’re not going to build us houses, you won’t find anymore murder dwarves or gnolls left to do your bidding.”
I groaned and turned to the side, mostly to prevent more questions about the merged elder’s anatomy. That was a mistake. I nearly fell out of my chair at finding Metric next to me, adding another line past the word “houses” on a blackboard. It took all my strength not to ask how long she’d been there or what she was doing. Reading the rest of the board at least answered the second question. After “barracks,” “bigger smithy,” and “cafeteria” it was clear it was a list of things people wanted us to build. “Houses” had by far the most tick marks, except that considering it wasn’t one building but many, it wouldn’t be the easiest one.
Before I could thank Mr. Two-Elders-in-One for his suggestion and excuse him, the next person in line did that for me. Despite having two feet and a hundred and fifty pounds on him/them, the dwarf shoved the elder out the door with a hand and a look. Figuring that was intimidating enough, Twinkle stomped around my desk and stopped only a half inch from eye-butting me. It was so ridiculous that I wanted to laugh but was countered by his secret weapon.
“Good gods, what is that smell?” I gagged.
“Success. Probably why it’s so unfamiliar to ya.” The dwarf’s beard bent into a grin. Thankfully its unkempt state protected me from the sight of his teeth.
“Don’t think sulfur, poop, and—nope, I’m done there.” I clamped my nose shut. “Get whatever crap it is you want out so I can go back to literally anything else.”
“Need more guns.”
“How many?”
“I’ll leave it to you and Kickels to figure out how many the wall can support. Once ya do that, add in extras on all the buildings.”
“That many?” I asked.
“Is eighty-nine,” Metric said as she started ticking off more lines behind the new item on the blackboard.
“And how much would that cost?”
Metric blinked a few times before turning her endless stare toward the dwarf.
Twinkle glowered at the tepu but eventually realized the only thing less pointless would be to try that with the wall. “Cheaper than rezzing the whole town . . . probably.”
“And what parts do you need to build them?”
His nerves, via his fat finger, focused on my desk instead. If weapon-of-mass-destruction or squad leader didn’t pan out, he could find ample employment as a woodpecker. “They need stuff. A few sparkly gem thingies, some of them thin metal thingies, some of them thick metal thingies, and a lot of other thingies.”
I looked at Metric for a translation. The tepu shrugged once and went back to staring through Twinkle’s soul (if he had one).
The dwarf finally gave in and raised his hands in frustration. “Just give me lots of stuff and I’ll figure it out.”
