Welcome back gentle reader
As I warned at the start of the last chapter, the action ramps up, and realistically there's no time for any shenanigans. I hope you'll stick with the story as it progresses.
I'll have more information for supplemental material for the storyline (maps, character roster, etc.) soon.
Standard disclaimer, multiply ages by roughly two to get equivalent Earth ages. Everyone is a consenting adult.
-- Somewhen, Somewhere --
Uther was not the only Divine watching Jebidiah's impromptu ceremony. Darido had also been contemplating his player's situation. He had completely lost control over events--not something he was accustomed to--and was considering options for regaining a measure of what had been lost.
This mortal--Valor--concerned him. Nearly 600 years ago, Darido had been known as Vincent Tonstar, bonded to Charlotte, third in line for the Crown. During that period, as he ascended to the Divine, House Valor had gained prominence within the fledgling kingdom. Many forgot that the Field of Valor--where, during the first Great Game, the Eight sacrificed themselves to stop the Orcish horde--was named not for the concept of valor, but for the leader of The Eight, Sharon Valor. Only a handful of people even knew that Thadius, First of his Name, was the grandson of a Valor. The name held weight.
He had already come to terms with the fact that his Lizardfolk player would stay in the shadow of the boy, but there was still room for maneuvering.
The decision to use Kelek was ultimately Bualdir's, and for once he had not fought for his own choice. The idea of using a Lizardfolk to establish forces in the wilds, building an army before making a move on civilization, had intrigued him. But then Bualdir had dashed those plans by pushing Kelek directly into civilization, where Kelek's alieness hindered any further progress. Her attachment to House Valor had been pure happenstance--at least, that's what it appeared to be. He still suspected Kelek had been nudged into Jebidiah's path.
He sighed to himself. If only Bualdir would give him some notion of what she was doing. Kelek could still prove useful, if he and Bualdir could work toward a common goal.
The Divine had reverted to picking common folk for players after the disaster of their first choices--all prominent heroes in the world. Now, they chose those less likely to draw attention until they could properly be utilized. The Great Game normally played out over years, sometimes decades, before culminating in a climactic conclusion. At times, more often than not, those conclusions fundamentally changed the world. But so far, the outcomes, even the cataclysmic ones, had rarely affected the Divine themselves, insulated as they were from the events on the material plane. The only dangers they had ever encountered were from the Power--and from each other.
But, as he continued to contemplate the young man holding his sword high, invoking Uther's name like some talisman, his sense of orderliness struck a sour note. This boy threatened the natural Order. His Order.
In a short period of time, Valor had amassed substantial power for someone of his station. And judging from his current actions, he was not just gathering power--he was shaping it. Molding it into something usable. Something Darido felt was slipping out of Divine control.
Darido had tinkered with the boy, just as the others had, so he recognized that part of the issue was his own doing. At the time, it had made sense to tweak the boy's natural ability to lead--to instill order. Darido desired Order above all else. But the combination of tweaks now threatened his desires.
He had to make Comlain understand--before it was too late.
-- Chapter 6: South of Evergrow Woods --
-- Sixth Tenday of Juntaen 813 AGR --
If it's stupid and it works, it's still stupid and you're lucky.
- Taylor
Jebidiah woke slowly, his mind groggy from too little sleep and too much stress. No tent protected him this morning. The dormant campfire at his feet had long since grown cold, but the smell of the woodsmoke still clung to his clothing, filling his nose. Horses nickered nearby joining the birds calling out in the cool morning air as the wind rustled through the trees. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of vibrant green leaves but failed to warm them as it had the days prior. The trees made sure of that.
It was the 6th 3rd, by his reckoning, closing in on Second Planting Day. They had set a slower pace yesterday, conserving what energy the exhausted company still retained, but they pressed on until they had entered the thinner edge of Evergrow Woods. With only enough time for a hurried meal the previous night, they had not set up a proper camp. Everyone slept on the hard ground in circles around the now dormant campfires. He stiffly pulled himself to his feet, accidentally dislodging a couple of hands he had not noticed lying on his extremities. The camp had already begun stirring, armswomen packing up to resume the march.
He moved through the camp aimlessly but with a purpose all the same. The women and scarce men nodded to him in greeting. He greeted them back, placing a reassuring hand on a shoulder every now and then, checking on his people. He had pushed them hard, but they still exchanged smiles as he made his rounds--some grim, but smiles nonetheless. Pain was pain; no amount of understanding could erase it. They had taken losses, lessening the numbers he waded through, but it still took him time to reach Captain Montague and her staff. He noticed Stern sitting slightly behind the trio, listening in, while Olga stood to his rear.
The Captain greeted Jebidiah with a wry grin. "Good morn, Your Grace. I know things changed the other night with... whatever that was around the fire, but why do you walk through camp like that ever since? It is an unusual practice."
Jebidiah glanced over his shoulder at the armswomen milling about behind him and shrugged. "They are my shield." He returned his gaze to the Captain. "What sort of warrior would I be if I neglected my armor?"
A snort from the side drew his gaze to Michelle, joining the conversation. "And you are the axe? What do we do with you?"
He chuckled. "Only one thing sharpens an axe. The harder the stone that's used, the sharper the edge."
"You need an axe, Jeb." Stern's observation drew everyone's stare. He shrugged and held the haft of his massive axe in one hand while pointing to the crossed axes of the House Valor crest on the breast of his leather to emphasize his point.
Jebidiah shrugged. "You may have the right of it, big guy. I suppose it would be fitting to switch to axes, if I can find the right kind." He turned his attention back to the Captain. "Is it a problem, my mingling with the women? It's not my intent to make your job harder than it needs to be."
Montague shook her head, though her expression was thoughtful. "Honestly, Your Grace, I have no idea. It's just not done. My instinct is that it can only help, but only time will tell."
He nodded, satisfied with the answer. "Let me know if it becomes a problem." He sighed and stretched overworked muscles. "Actually, I need to know if any of the idiotic things I do cause problems for you."
Michelle snorted. "I wouldn't go so far as to say idiotic. Reckless, impulsive, dare I say even dangerous, but not idiotic."
Her frankness surprised him, but he found himself chuckling with everyone else. "Duly noted."
He regarded Michelle, hesitating to ask the question he needed to. "Is Hiro improving?"
She sighed in response but did not answer.
His tone grew firmer, its edge returning. "Corporal Simmons?"
She smiled grimly and shook her head. "Sorry, Jeb. We'll keep an eye on him, but he's more stubborn than you are."
Jebidah's brow furrowed. "Have the healers tend to him again."
She sighed and shrugged. "They said they have done what they can. Some injuries have lasting effects no normal spell will heal. Time will have to work its own magic."
Her answer did little to satisfy Jebidiah, but he relented. There were too many other pressing issues he had to deal with.
"Captain, I have to talk this over with Kelek, but I think we are closing in on our objective. The trees are growing denser, so I think around midday we'll call a halt and fortify a position. Set a slower pace today."
"Thank you for that, Your Grace. I'm sure the women could use more rest. What are your plans once camp is made?"
Jebidiah hesitated once again, but not because he was unsure of his plans. Instead, the looks on the faces of the women before him were what made him pause. Captain Montague was the leader of his company, a woman with years of experience in military leadership, yet she, along with First Lieutenant Junten and Gunny Portland, waited on his word, ready to carry out his commands without a hint of resentment. It was a surreal moment, but he didn't let it linger.
"We need to send scouts out to make contact with Idril and her people. They are supposed to be watching for us--hopefully there won't be much delay. My overall plan is simple. The company will pick a defensible spot we can fortify for an ambush. We'll make contact with the orcs, engage in a tactical withdrawal, leading them into the ambush. We have the numbers to take on a fairly large force, even if they are orcs and larger goblinkind."
Michelle smiled in approval. "That's a solid kiss."
Captains Montague nodded in reply but Jebidiah's confusion was clear. The Captain explained. "KISS is an acronym," she chuckled. "I think the primary source of cohesion for any military is the amount of acronyms it uses. Kiss is Keep It Simple, Stupid. The less moving parts a plan has, the less likely something will go to shit... I mean wrong, Pardon, Your Grace."
He chuckled at her apology. "I've already said ten things worse this morning. But I can't hold a candle to what Dana will probably say."
Michelle stiffened, her eyes fixed on something over his shoulder.
Jebidiah sighed. "She's standing right there, isn't she?" He turned to take whatever ribbing Dana was going to deliver, but nobody was behind him. He quickly turned back to Michelle, who, head turned, was busy whistling with exaggerated looks all around her while avoiding meeting his eyes.
Jebidiah glared at the First, stabbing a finger in her direction, his voice sharp as steel. "You!"
Michelle had her head turned to the side, frozen mid-whistle, but her eyes rotated to fix on Jebidiah with a look of concern. The other three women caught their breath and held it, eyes wide in disbelief, waiting for his outburst.
"I don't know what minotaur shit Dana lets you get away with..." He faltered as the smile he fought to suppress broke through. "Damnit, I fucked that one up."
All the women let out their breath, and Michelle's tension dissolved, looking visibly relieved. He chuckled, pleased with himself. "Still, I got you good there. But you deserved it." He waved his goodbyes as Stern's booming laughter followed his exit.
It took twenty minutes to get the column moving northeast once again, though it felt like hours had passed. They chewed on their travel rations--hardtack and cheese, grumbling as they chewed. There was a reason it was called hardtack; the biscuit felt hard enough to break Jebidiah's teeth as he gnawed on it.
