True John Crusade, page 15
“Your Mimic, man,” Blackthorn said as he handed him over. “He’s loyal, really loyal. He cheered every time you got a kill. Even for the ones that…” he trailed off, and I raised a brow. “I don’t know, the ones that were kind of lame.”
“A kill’s a kill,” I said, patting my buddy on the head. “And Napoleon knows that.”
“What are you doing with the True John?” he asked, fervently gazing toward the man.
“I don’t know,” I lied, turning and waving toward him. Turning back to Blackthorn, I grinned. “He might come with me for a bit. Anyway, enough business. Did you get the money you wanted?”
“Yeah!” he said enthusiastically. “Four thousand Sols! I’m getting a new chair for my living room.”
“That’s good,” I said. I didn’t have a living room anymore. It didn’t seem fair that the goatman did and I didn’t, but hey, life’s not fair. You can either fight it or accept it.
I bid Blackthorn a fond-ish farewell and headed back down to the True John who was waiting for us in the Arena.
“Nice Mimic,” he said. “Look, I just want to make sure we’re clear. I reserve the right to leave this campaign at any time. If I get a better offer, I can’t promise I’ll stay. Okay?”
“Sure,” I said, fighting not to roll my eyes. Where did he think he was going to go? There weren’t any jobs anymore. It seemed like the options were: Crusaders, Arena, die. But I didn’t feel any need to tell him that.
The journey home was about as bad as I’d expected, although at least the True John took on most of the monsters for us. I felt like I should be insulted, like he didn’t trust me and Napoleon enough to handle things ourselves, but honestly, it was kind of nice.
Napoleon still got to eat the bodies, so he was happy, and I didn’t have to deal with any horrific and agonizing pain. It was a win-win. Plus, the True John seemed so happy doing what he was doing that I didn’t want to stop him.
Finally, as the sun drew low on the horizon, we neared the Republic. I thought it was a good idea to give the True John some ground rules.
“Okay,” I said, sucking in a deep breath. “So, you’re going to meet this guy named Edgar. He’s in charge—”
“Wait, I thought you were in charge?” he asked, glaring down at me.
“I am, kind of. It’s my Republic. I’m the King. But Edgar runs the Crusader end of things,” I admitted.
“I just thought they’d send their most important guy,” he said. “Not some random person.”
“I am important to the Republic,” I protested, doing my best to keep my cool. “I’m just not in charge of the military.”
“Okay.”
Napoleon was looking from one of us to the other, growling. He could sense that something was wrong. And, maybe I’m projecting here, it seemed he didn’t like the True John any more than I did.
“Well,” I said finally. “I’m going in. My house is in there. Are you coming?”
He scowled. “Sure. But only because I can’t go back to the Arena at this point.”
Napoleon growled.
“Good boy,” I said.
Edgar jogged over when he saw us. “Recruit! What’s the report? Who’s this?”
“I found the prophet,” I said. “He told me we needed a savior. And that that savior wasn’t me.”
“That much is clear,” Edgar sniffed.
“I’m the True John,” the sword-toting, battle-crazed man said, holding out his hand for a shake. “And I’m here to help however I can.”
I noticed that he was a lot more polite with Edgar than he’d been with me. Of course he was the kind of guy who was nicer to the people in charge than he was to the people beneath him.
“A savior?” Edgar said, looking at him skeptically. “That’s really what the prophet said?”
“Yeah. But...” I stopped. I wasn’t sure if telling him that the Crusaders’ beloved prophet was a fraud was a great idea.
“It seems like it,” the True John said pompously. “And like I said, I want to help.”
“I just... I thought we were doing okay on our own,” Edgar said, looking so upset that I almost felt sorry for him.
“We built a great wall, Edgar,” I said, doing my best to assuage the man before he got too down in the dumps.
“I see some structural flaws,” the True John said, glancing around. His eyes drank the whole place in, absorbing the information like a sponge. Color me impressed. “And some major tactical errors. You said you’re in charge here?”
“Yes,” Edgar said, looking like a kicked puppy.
“We should talk about that. I don’t think this suburb can be defended.”
Oh, no.
“It’s one of the few monster-free areas around here,” Edgar refuted. “We thought it was a logical choice.”
“I disagree. There are too many places for creatures to hide. They could be anywhere. Do you really think you can patrol this entire perimeter? And that wall...” The True John shook his head, looking disappointed. Fortunately, he went easy when he started speaking again. “It’s okay for a first attempt, but I think we can do better. And, I’m going to be brutally honest, we should… soon. Like, should’ve been done yesterday kind of soon. There are more monsters coming.”
“Ah,” Edgar said, nodding. “Okay. yes. That makes sense.”
“Tell you what,” the True John said. “I’ll take over for a little bit. Just a temporary change of command since I can’t stay here forever. I’ll help out just long enough to get you guys in good shape.” He crossed his arms and grinned. “I’ll show you how it’s really done. I think this place can be turned around, I really do.”
And with that, he loped off without waiting for a response, leaving Edgar looking deflated.
“That’s the savior?” he asked.
“You know, I asked myself the same question.”
“He’s terrible.”
“Yep.”
“He’s going to ruin this entire base.”
“I’m sure he thinks he’s making it better,” I said.
He scowled and crossed his arms.
“I thought the wall was good,” I said, trying to be helpful. “And you’ve done a great job here. I know you don’t have much to work with.”
He looked surprised. “I thought you hated it here.”
“I do,” I admitted, but it was probably for reasons that Edgar wouldn’t expect… probably. “But I hate that guy more. Honestly, I think he’s going to take things from ‘annoying and kind of obnoxious’ to ‘terrible and unbearable’.”
“I wonder what we can do about it,” he muttered.
I turned to look at him and was surprised at the sinister expression on his face. Who knew he had it in him?
“You know, Edgar,” I said. “I like the way you think.”
Edgar shrugged. “Eh. Whatever.” He walked over to me and put his hand on the mark on my chest, and in a brief moment, it disappeared. “Welcome to the Crusade. Recruit no longer.”
“So, what now?” I asked him. “What do you need from me?”
“Not much really.” He answered. “Keep the outpost up and try not to get permanently killed by something while the rest of us actually try to win this thing.”
Authors Note
So this series was based on a thought I had. In most books featuring veterans, those veterans are almost always hard chargers. Dependable. Brave. Badasses. You know… combat arms. Ground pounders.
But what if a book was about a sand bagger instead? Somebody on the other end of the spectrum? And thus we had Dan. Definitely not for legal reasons named after somebody I served with whom was a bigger hero than this Dan. Complete hero. He was a DUI kind of guy and introduced himself often as “Basically infantry.”
Anyways, I hope the story entertained you.
Wolfe Locke, True John Crusade
