The Pulver Chronicles – 29. By Night And By Day

Leaving the area proved both easier than entering it, and at the same time longer. Easier because they now knew the way, and didn’t need to follow any trail. Longer because they had to make sure to circumvent patrols entirely, and find another way to cross the river. Once more, the Hellhounds proved invaluable in detecting enemy soldiers and zombies. An hour after they had passed the river, Jackson and Ballen decided it was time to part ways.

“Thank you for all your help,” Ballen said, saluting the young man with the traditional fist-on-chest gesture. “As per our agreement, one of our guides shall lead you to the castle’s ruins. Tacey here knows the way.”

He gestured at her.

“Nice seeing you again, Tacey,” Jackson said. “And I’m glad you could find your people, Inquisitor.”

“As are we, sir Jackson,” the Inquisitor said. “May the Divine guide you.”

“Uh, thanks, you too,” Jackson replied awkwardly.

They separated at a hill. As agreed, Tacey went with Jackson and the Hellhounds. So did David, who had yet to speak a word to Jackson. Both Ballen and Keziah seemed surprised to see him follow the other group, but neither of them said anything. As he got closer, Jackson noticed he had a sword in a leather scabbard attached to his belt on his right side, and a small but bulgy pouch next to it. Jackson could guess which object was contained in it by its rough L-shape.

“Who are you?” Alizana asked.

“My name is Gawain,” David said, shooting Jackson a quick glance. The latter noticed how his friend’s voice sounded different. He spoke in a more deliberate way, seemingly to mask his natural accent. “If you are going south, I wish to accompany you.”

“We’re heading that way, yeah,” Jackson said. “Happy to have you with us… Gawain.”

Alizana looked at the newcomer, then at Jackson. “What about your comrades? Are they not going back to the city?”

“No, they’re not. And I’m not part of the Inquisition, if that is what you are implying.”

“Then who are you with?” Alizana said. “Your sword is castle steel, and that armor was made to your measurements, I can tell.”

“Gawain” passed a hand in his hair. Jackson remembered he always did that when he was nervous.

“Could we discuss that later?” Gawain said. “I promise to tell you everything you wish to know.”

Jackson took Alizana’s paw and squeezed it gently, and gave her a nod. Alizana pursed her lips, but tacitly agreed with a nod.

“How far are we from the castle?” Jackson asked Tacey.

“Not very,” she said, pointing in a direction. “Be there just before dawn.”

Good. I’d rather not look for my weapons in the dark, Jackson thought.

Without waiting any further, Tacey got on her horse and headed out. Everyone followed suit. I guess she’s as anxious to get this over with as I am. Either that or she thinks the earlier she can go home, the earlier she can get some sleep. Jackson certainly agreed with that last part. By his estimations, he had been on his feet for over eighteen hours at this point. On top of that, he had lost a lot of blood. His eyelids felt heavy, as did his arms. He tried to get some sleep during the ride, letting Alizana lead his horse, but couldn’t; the ride was simply too bumpy, and his saddle just too uncomfortable.

Tacey had been correct in her appreciation of the travel time. Riding at a moderate pace, they arrived at the lake as the night sky began to light up. Seeing the large body of water triggered memories in Jackson’s mind. The gunshots in the distance. Running through the forest. Sergeant Duval’s last message. And Lawrence… Oh, God, Lawrence…

Jackson’s hands squeezed the reins, accidentally pulling them close to his chest. Florid reacted by slowing down abruptly, letting out a whinnied protest. Jackson patted the side of the horse’s neck and apologized. He gazed at the scenery under the pale moonlight. A few landmarks popped out: a large dead tree there, the mountains in the horizon, and that large hill in the east. That very same hill where the necromant’s small castle once stood. Squinting his eyes, Jackson could distinguish the rubble in the dark. He turned to Tacey and thanked her for her guidance. Tacey responded with a small nod, then turned tail and rode away.

The sun was rising behind the mountains when Jackson and his group arrived at the ruins. Jackson hadn’t actually seen what was left of the castle after it collapsed. The first floor and the surrounding walls were mostly intact, and a portion of the second floor had survived, but everything above that had been destroyed.

“OK, so from there…” Jackson thought-said. He yawned hard enough to strain his jaw. “Ugh. Actually, can you take it from there?”

Byron nodded, then appraised his surroundings. In the meantime, Jackson turned to Gawain/David. His old friend was leaning against a tree, massaging the bridge of his nose. Jackson thought for a moment about what to say. He had finally found him. After months of searching and wondering, he was really here, alive and well. Jackson hesitated. What to say after all this time? Eventually, Jackson decided to just walk up to his friend and hug him, nearly toppling him over in the process.

“Fuck, I can’t believe it’s you!” he groaned into his shoulder.

“Happy to see you too, buddy,” David laughed, his voice burdened by tiredness. His normal accent was back. “Do you think you can let me breathe?”

Jackson ended the hug, but still held on to his shoulders.

“It’s you, it’s really you!” he said. “Fuck, I’ve been looking for you for so long. Ever since we got in this world, ever since the forest. Heh, I suppose it’s fitting that we’re meeting again here. I knew you weren’t dead!” He gave David’s armored arm a little slap. “I knew you were alive somewhere. Where have you been? How have you been? Nice armor, by the way, where did you get it?”

“Okay, okay,” David said, “one question at a time.”

“Right, right. So: where have you been all this time?”

“Well, back when we arrived in this world, my unit was… Erm, well, the short of it is, we met with the necromant and the bulk of his undead forces. It… It wasn’t pretty. The lieutenant got us out of here, but then he insisted on tracking the necromant to hunt him down, all the way to his castle. I, uh, I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

“Gosh! David Schultz, questioning a superior’s orders?” Jackson said, holding onto his heart as he was going to faint. “There truly is magic in this world!”

“Well, he… he was going to get us killed, I thought -get me killed, the others were already dead. It was like he had a death wish or something. And, I mean, with the situation we were in… Anyway, I said I wouldn’t follow him in the castle. He sighed, and told me to stay put near the lake. So I did. Well, I meant to. But the thing is, I was scared out of my wits. I had seen three of our people die; I had heard sergeant Duval on the radio telling us… Well, you probably heard it too. Every time a branch snapped, I thought a zombie was going to come out of the bushes and kill me like they had killed everyone else.”

“So you ran away?”

“I -No. Well, I didn’t want to. I had no idea where I was, and as far as I knew, the lieutenant was the last person alive for miles. But then I started thinking: the lake is an open area, surrounded by a forest which could be crawling with zombies -not to mention wild animals. I had my rifle and my pistol, but how much would that help against threats I couldn’t see? I was basically a sitting duck. I’m… I’m not proud, but eventually, fear got to me.”

“So you ran away,” Jackson said again.

“Well, yeah. I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I wasn’t. But I heard zombies approaching -and not just a couple: a lot of them, it sounded like. Then, I just… Yeah, I ran away. In retrospect, it was pretty lucky I didn’t run into more zombies, or fell in a ditch or something. I didn’t even have any idea where I was going; I just went opposite the mountains, hoping I’d find a road, or a house, or anything.

“I must have ran for hours before I stopped. At some point, I was just too tired. I sat by a tree to take a rest, but I ended up going to sleep instead. That was pretty stupid, in hindsight: I could have woken up to zombies chewing on my flesh.” He laughed nervously. “Instead, I woke up surrounded by soldiers.”

“Inquisition?”

“No, the local marquess’ militia. They thought I was a poacher, encroaching on the marquess’ hunting grounds. I tried to convince them I was just a traveler who had gotten lost. A good thing it hadn’t been the Inquisition, actually. They have a way to make a man tell the truth.”

“That they do,” Jackson said, remembering his little conversation with Keziah.

“So, the militiamen looked like they believed me, but they were still suspicious of me. They brought me back to their town with them, so that their marquess would decide. I was presented before him and his… I guess you’d call it his court. I mean, it was just him, his wife, a couple of local constables, and a foreign emissary of some kind. They asked me a few questions: who I was, what I was doing around here, where I came from… I was still totally confused by what was happening to me. It was only at that moment that I really understood I was not on Earth anymore. So I decided to keep a low profile, and answer their questions as vaguely as possible. Better if they didn’t know I came from another world, I thought; there was no telling what they’d do to me if they knew.

“Thankfully for me, the marquess was not very interested in me -he didn’t look very interested in anything except his much younger wife. But the emissary was, although I didn’t notice at first. When the militia finally let me go, he approached me and introduced himself. His name was Sir Luken Rainworth. He told me he was a knight of the Eastern Empire, with pride in his voice. Then, he got an amused look in his eyes, and said: “you have no idea what the Eastern Empire is, do you?”. I tried to say that I did, but he immediately threw some pointed questions my way. Who was the current Emperor? Where did he live? What were the Empire’s provinces? I couldn’t answer any of them, obviously. That guy was seeing right through me. He said: “You’re not from anywhere near here, are you? I could tell at a glance. This world is as foreign to you as you are to it.”. I probably should have panicked and got away from him at that point, but for some reason, I wanted to trust that man.”

Well, he was a knight, Jackson thought, smiling to himself. This world’s version of a police officer. Of course you’d want to trust him.

“As it turns out, I was right to do so. He didn’t want to get me in trouble; in fact, he wanted to keep me out of trouble. I was completely lost here, and he could tell. He said he was going back to his land, and offered to bring me with him. I had no better option, so I was very tempted to accept. Still, it was a little weird. That guy didn’t know me from Adam, yet he offered to take me under his wing? I knew the guy was a knight, but that was still surprisingly generous. So I asked him what he wanted in exchange. He smiled and said: “I’d like for you to meet with my liege. Nothing else.”.

“That was even weirder. But, again, I had no better option, so I agreed. Over the course of the next few weeks, we traveled all the way back to the Eastern Empire. We crossed Hastad, all the way to Narria. As we did, Luken educated me a little on the Empire, its people, and its provinces. He introduced me as his squire wherever we went. He even taught me a few things to make it sound more true, like how to use a sword or how to ride a horse. I caught on to it pretty quick, he said.

“He still hadn’t told me who his liege was; he would sometimes talk about him, and it was clear he respected him greatly. I thought he’d be some kind of landed knight, or maybe a count. As it turned out, that liege of his was Damian III.”

David had delivered that name dramatically, as if it was a huge revelation. It took Jackson a few seconds to remember who that Damian was.

“Oh shit! You mean the Emperor?”

“Yeah!” David said excitedly. “Damien, the third of his name, of the house Steedian, by the Divine Will Emperor of the Narrians, the Hastadish, and the Leylen, protector of the Southern Marches.” He had recited all that by heart without any hesitation. “Turned out, Sir Luken was a knight of the Order of the Silver Steed.”

“Um…?” Jackson mumbled.

“Oh, that’s the Emperor’s praetorian guard, basically. That’s where all of the best knights of the Empire end up.”

Jackson was still confused, but Byron quickly explained to him what a praetorian guard was.

“Like the Emperor’s bodyguards?” he said. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Sure is. So anyway, I met with the Emperor. The thing is, at first, I had no idea who he was. I mean, I knew Sir Luken had taken me to the imperial castle, but I thought the man I was meeting in private was just one of the Imperial court’s many nobles. When I realized I was talking with the most powerful man on the continent, I almost peed myself.”

He chuckled, and scratched his nape.

“I expected the Emperor to ask me some questions too. But he only had one: “are you hungry?”. I said I was; it was past noon. He ordered some food from the kitchen, then the three of us sat at a table. The Emperor didn’t have any questions while I was eating, either. Instead, he wanted to know if I had questions for him. And I did. Boy, I did. I asked him about this world, about the Empire, about knights…”

“You asked him about this world?” Jackson said.

“Yeah… Well, I could tell he already knew I wasn’t, erm, from around here. I guess Sir Luken had told him. So I thought I might as well come out and ask about this world. Especially as I had no idea whether I would ever go back. The Emperor answered all of my questions; he’s very knowledgeable on a lot of subjects. He told me about his Empire, about his subjects and their cultures, about history, about the Hexacracy, about the Southern War… We talked for the better part of the afternoon. Eventually, it got dark, and the Emperor offered me to stay at his castle.”

“Woah. The guy barely met you, and he offers you room and board? He definitely wanted something from you.”

“I found it,” Byron said while David was pondering his answer.

“Ah. Hold on, a second.”

Jackson followed Byron’s directions until he arrived at a hollowed-out stump down a slope. It was the cache alright. The young man recognized it even in the dawn’s low lighting. His carved initials were barely noticeable, however.

“What’s this?” David said.

“What I came here to find,” Jackson simply answered.

He removed the backpack from the stump. It had caught quite a lot of humidity, despite being hidden in such a way that it was protected from direct rain, and some moss was growing on it. Judging from the smell, some small forest animals had also found it, and marked it as their territory. Jackson grumbled in disgust, then opened the backpack and dropped its contents on the ground. David’s eyes grew wide.

“Are these from our unit?”

“Yup. Everything I could collect, minus a couple I brought with me.”

“Does that mean… nobody else survived?”

“Aside from me, Bonnie, and you, no. Everybody’s dead, Dave. I’m sorry.”

David sighed. “Ah, geez. What about the lieutenant?”

“Yeah, dead too,” Jackson said, glancing at Byron. “His body is actually somewhere near here.”

But his spirit is still with us, he almost added, but he feared that joke might be taken a little too seriously.

“What do you plan to do with all of these?” David said, pointing at the weapons.

“Well, what do you think? We’ve got a war going on.”

“You’re fighting in this war? Are you a mercenary?”

“I used to be,” Jackson said. “There was this band in Atvello, and we did a few jobs. But now I’m part of a genuine army.”

“Did one of the marquesses recruit you?”

“Err… Not exactly.”

David blinked, confused. Jackson turned to Alizana, Decla, and Grabs-the-Blades, and asked them to help him put everything on the horses. He made sure every weapon was both unloaded and well-hidden for transportation.

“Who are you fighting with, then?” David inquired.

Alizana answered first: “We are uniting the Southern Marches to fight off the Hexacrat invasion.”

She had said that quickly and somewhat dismissively, as if to discourage further questions. Her distrust was evident -and understandable, given that David was a stranger to her.

“David’s my best friend,” he told her. “We can trust him with the full truth.”

Alizana crossed her arms, glanced alternatively at Jackson and at David, then nodded. “Just don’t tell him too much,” she said in a low voice.

“I fight with the Hellhound Rebellion,” Jackson said.

Predictably, those words meant little to David, whose face remained blank.

“It’s a really long and nasty story, and I’ll tell you later, but the short of it is, Hellhounds are from the Hexacracy. They rebelled against them, and exiled themselves in the Southern Marches. Now that the Hexacracy is invading the Marches, we’re trying to forge an alliance to push them back and keep our independence.

“Your independence… in the South?” David said, scratching his chin. He was perfectly shaved, Jackson noticed, probably so the facial hair wouldn’t betray his real hair color.

“You kinda make it sound like I’m Robert Lee with the Confederacy, but yeah. We’re trying to make it so that the Marches, the Vertrisian Elves, and the Hellhound can go through this conflict without getting destroyed by or having to bend the knee to the Hexacracy or the Empire.”

“I, uh, I see.”

“And, yeah, I know what you’re gonna say: that battle’s so uphill, it might as well be fighting on a cliff.” Jackson chuckled. His sense of humor, he felt, was suffering from tiredness the most. “But we’ve actually got some good results already. We’ve just ended a siege on Atvello.”

“The Hexacracy has tried to besiege Atvello?” David said.

“Tried being the operative word,” Jackson said. “You should have been there, Dave. We were badasses! Total heroes, too. But, hey, now that I’ve found you, you can be part of the next one.”

He slapped David’s shoulder playfully, eliciting a laughter from his friend. A strange laughter, actually. Did it sound… nervous? Embarrassed? What was going on? Ah, Jackson was probably imagining things, what with the lack of sleep and all.

“You told me that knight guy taught you how to use a sword, how to ride. Are you good, now?”

“Hmm, pretty good, I’d say. I spent the last six months practicing, especially while I was serving as a squire to, um, to the Emperor.”

Jackson’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.” David gave him a look. “Holy shit, you’re not kidding. Wow, Dave. Really moving up in the world, huh?”

“Yeah, you could say that… In fact, some people say I’m the Emperor’s half-brother; his father’s bastard son.”

“No shit! Is that why you’ve dyed your hair?”

“Well, yeah. We decided it was better if people believed that. Otherwise, they might question what I’m doing at the Emperor’s court, having come out of nowhere. For now I’m just some squire, so nobody is questioning too much, but the Emperor is going to make me a knight when I come back from this mission.”

“Mission,” Alizana said. “What mission?”

“Originally, it was to find out what had happened to several groups of mercenaries that were down south by the Hexacracy. Apparently, they had been tasked to track some deserters, but had been destroyed by an unknown enemy.”

“Ah, yeah, that was probably us,” Jackson said.

“I gathered as much, yeah. Your friends were pretty brutal.”

“Only as brutal as we needed to be,” Alizana said, her nostrils flaring.

“I don’t know about that. Some villages have been attacked, too, in the northern marches; especially those occupied by the Hexacracy. I’ve heard some of their people have been straight up eaten.”

“Jesus,” Jackson flinched. “Yeah, nope. Those attacks weren’t us, Dave.”

“Those attacks were similar to the ones on the mercenary groups.”

“Dave, buddy, I’ve lived with these people for a while now. I can assure you, they would never do that. The attacking villages part or the eating people part.”

David looked uncertain. “Well, there were just rumors. I suppose it could have been bandits. Or gossip.”

Jackson felt a little queasy. He had heard the same rumors from that Prince Merchant, back in Atvello. What if there were more than just gossip?

“You said finding what happened to these mercenaries was originally your mission,” Alizana pointed out. “Did it change? Does it now have something to do with your presence among the Inquisition?”

“It does,” David said. He hesitated to say more.

“Hey, come on, Dave,” Jackson said. “You can trust us, too.”

His friend took a deep breath, then said: “Fine, but you have to promise you won’t tell a soul about this. It could be big.”

“I promise.”

David looked at Alizana, who looked at Jackson, then promised as well. He nodded, and took a deep breath.

“Okay, so… The other part of my mission was about the Inquisition, and their actions in the South. I got a message from the Emperor some time ago, telling me he thinks the Inquisitors may be up to something.”

“Isn’t the Inquisition part of the Empire?” Alizana asked. “Don’t they swear fealty to the Emperor?”

“Yes… and no. It’s complicated. In theory, the Emperor rules by divine right, and the Inquisition serves the Divine, so both are on the same side, and the former is superior to the latter. In practice, the Inquisition is a powerful organization; it has a lot of influence and even its own army. Sure enough, it’s got its own secrets, too.”

“So you think they’ve got a secret agenda,” Jackson said.

“That makes sense,” Alizana said. “Powerful people always seek more power, even if it means turning on their allies.”

“I don’t have anything concrete yet,” David said, “but I know they have some sort of secret operations down here in the South.”

“Right, like whatever Keziah was doing up here,” Jackson said.

“Exactly. I couldn’t find out what it was, actually. My presence here must have made them more cautious. But there is something else I discovered.” He leaned closer to Alizana and Jackson. “Something about their powers.”

“You mean how they can, like, bring people back from the dead?” Jackson said.

“Way to keep your cards close to your chest, Jackson,” Byron commented.

“It’s David,” the young man mentally replied.

“So you know about that,” his friend said.

“One of the Inquisition guys accompanying us was attacked by zombies on the way. It was… really bad.” He glanced at his bandaged wound. “And yet, I saw him again later. The same guy, looking perfectly fine. I don’t know that he was dead, but… No, he had to be.”

“I agree,” Alizana said. “Does that mean the Inquisitors are necromants?”

“They probably won’t create zombies,” David said, “but they definitely know more about the Forbidden Arcanes than they let on.”

“Okay, so secret powers, secret agenda…” Jackson said. “What do you think they’re up to? You don’t think they’re working with the Hexacracy, do you?”

“No, no, no,” David replied with a negative gesture of the hand. “They have absolutely no interest in working with them. The Hexacracy hates the Inquisition, and vice-versa. You should see what the warrior-monks do to the Inquisitors they manage to capture alive…”

“I don’t know much about the Inquisition, I’ll admit,” Alizana said. “Aside from what I’ve been taught in the Hexacracy, which probably isn’t worth anything. Don’t they take their orders from the Emperor?”

“Well, no,” David said. “Supposedly, they take their orders from the Divine. Or rather, from the Angels, who act as messengers for the Divine. I still don’t know a lot about the Divine Church -the Emperor had me read their books and attend the ceremonies to fit in better-, but I do know the Divine never actually appears to anyone.”

“There are Angels in this world?” Jackson said, amazed.

“Apparently. Not that I’ve ever seen one. Supposedly, there are Angels in our world too, but…”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the stories. Always figured some religious nuts had made them up.”

“That could be the case in this world too, for all I know. Anyway, the point is, the Inquisition is an autonomous organization.”

“I’m surprised an Emperor would tolerate that inside his Empire,” Alizana said. “That’s a challenge to his authority, isn’t it?”

“He doesn’t have much of a choice, really. The Divine Church has a lot of sway over the Imperial society, with the nobles and with the commoners. Its influence reaches outside the Empire’s borders. It’s got a pretty strong army, too, and we’re at war. The Emperor needs the Inquisition.”

“Right,” Jackson said. “And I’m guessing if his ass gets excommunicated, it won’t be allowed to sit on the throne.”

“Something like that.” David sighed. “So, ultimately, I couldn’t really find anything about what the Inquisition is doing, but I’m now sure they’re doing something. Something about the Forbidden Arcanes? Or the Empire? I can’t even begin to guess.”

“Should we be concerned?” Alizana asked. “Will it affect the war?”

“I don’t think it’ll affect the war, but again I don’t know much. As for being concerned, well, I think we have bigger worries right now.”

“That we do,” Jackson said. “And on that note… We should be getting back home. We’ve got a lot of stuff to do, and I don’t want to stay in this damned forest any more than I have to.”

David was about to say something, probably about how he should be going too, but Jackson interrupted him with an exclamation:

“Hey! You’re coming with us, right, Dave? We sure could use a knight. Especially one with a cool armor.” He slapped David’s chestplate.

“You, uh… You want me to join you?”

“Hell yeah, I do! Dave and Jack versus the world. It’ll be like old times. Except with battles and magic and shit.” He laughed. “But seriously, we could use you. You’ve got military training. I mean, I got training too, but you paid more attention. You could help train our warriors.”

David kept quiet for a moment, his eyes shifting with what Jackson first thought to be hesitation. But after a second, he realized his friend had this look one had when about to deliver bad news.

“Jack, I can’t do that. My loyalty is to the Empire.”

“What?” Jackson weakly said.

“I serve the Emperor, I swore fealty to him. My liege wants the South back, and you want it to remain independent. I… I can’t fight alongside you. I’m sorry.”

“But… Come on, Dave. You really gonna help the Empire in their war of conquest? You don’t think the Southern Marches deserve to be independent?”

“I don’t, actually,” David said, his tone suddenly firm. “And it’s not a war of conquest. The South belongs to the Empire.”

“Are you serious?” Jackson blurted out.

“I am! The Empire built the South. Every castle, every city, and nearly every road was created by the Empire. You mentioned Atvello. The Empire built most of that city too; its walls, its Sanctotum, even its port.”

“Yeah, and then Atvello bought its status as a free city. Without enough money to reimburse the Empire’s investment, I’m guessing.”

“It’s not about the money, Jack,” David said. “Atvello should be part of the Empire. Do you think its citizens decided to secede from it? No, it was that Gilded Council. In their hearts, the people are still part of the Empire. Their culture is Imperial, so is their language, and so is their currency. It’s the same for the rest of the Southern Marches.”

“Have you ever been to Atvello?” Jackson asked, a little snarky.

“No, I have not,” David admitted. “But I have traveled a lot through the South in the last couple of months. I have met its people. Believe me when I say they want the Empire back.”

“Even the Vertrisian Elves?” Alizana said. Her expression was marble-like, but Jackson could perceive the growing anger behind it. “Need I remind you, their community was there before the Empire settled the Southern Marches.”

“You have a point, but they only represent a small portion of the South. Do their wishes trump that of the rest of the South just because they arrived here a bit earlier?”

Jackson and Alizana were both about to respond to that, but David moved on:

“That’s not even the main concern. The Empire is not just wanted in the South, it’s also needed.”

“Needed,” Alizana repeated with a scoff.

“Yes! Ever since the counties and duchies became marches, they lost all unity. There’s still trade, of course, but beyond that there is no cooperation or stability. Without a central, higher authority to protect them, the weaker marquesses are basically at the mercy of their more powerful neighbors. And ever since the Hexacracy invaded, it’s been everyone for himself. For crying out loud, some marquesses are fighting against each other instead of the Hexacracy!”

That strung a chord inside Jackson.

“Are you telling us your counts and dukes don’t ogle on their neighbors in the Empire?” Alizana said.

“No, I will not tell you that; of course they do. Human nature is the same in the Empire as it is everywhere else. The difference is, the Emperor is there to intervene and maintain order. The Emperor has a duty to protect his vassals, and my liege cares for his duty.”

My liege, Jackson mentally repeated. He hadn’t missed the passion in David’s tone when he spoke of the Emperor. It seemed David’s positive opinion of him was born of more than just gratefulness: he actually believed in him.

“Look, you’re saying you’re creating an alliance between the marches against the Hexacracy,” David continued. “That’s all well and good, but have you thought about what will happen once the war is over?”

“What do you mean, what will happen?” Jackson said. “Things will go back to normal. The Southern Marches will continue to be free.”

“I mean, do you believe your alliance will continue? Do you think the marquesses will remain united without a common enemy? And what about the marches who are currently fighting against each other? Do you think that bad blood will evaporate after the war? What I’m asking is: what is your long-term plan for this alliance?”

Jackson hesitated. “I don’t… I mean, what’s the point in thinking long-term when we can’t even be sure there’s gonna be a long term?”

“Independence is a nice idea, Jack, it really is, but nice ideas don’t matter much in the face of harsh realities.”

“So, what you’re saying is, everyone in the Southern Marches should trade their freedom for safety?” Alizana said. “No, actually, they must trade their freedom for safety. They’re not given a choice in the matter. They will be part of the Empire, whether they like it or not. How does that make you any different from the Hexacracy?”

“We are nothing alike,” David retorted. “The Empire stands for order and civilization. The Hexacracy cares for nothing but power.”

“I bet if I were to ask an Archdemon, he’d tell me the exact opposite.”

David took the remark in stride. “You would know the Archdemons better than I would, I suppose, so I’ll take your word for it. But I know the Emperor. Take my word for it: he’s not a power-hungry tyrant. He actually cares for his people, for his Empire. He is the best option for the South.”

“Shouldn’t the South get to decide that?” Jackson said.

“They do get to decide that, Jack. Several marches have already chosen to join us; their marquesses and their people have pleaded fealty to the Emperor. Again, we’re not invaders.”

“Really?” Alizana said. “What about those who don’t join you? What will you do with them?”

“Nothing.”

“Wait, really?” Jackson said.

“The Emperor has ordered they be left alone. He knows they’ll join us soon enough.”

“When the Hexacracy comes for them,” Alizana said.

“If that’s what it takes to convince them, then yes. But we believe they’ll see the advantages of coming back to the Empire without that.”

The Hellhound scrunched her nose. “And the Emperor’s vassals agreed to that? To just leave these marquesses alone? Are they not worried they might turn to the Hexacracy instead? Some already have.”

David licked his upper lip, a tad uncomfortable. “There are some concerns, of course.”

“Oh, I’ll bet there are more than concerns,” Alizana went on. “I bet some vassals are saying the Empire shouldn’t wait until the marquesses make a decision that could well be against its interests. I bet they’re saying the marquesses shouldn’t be given the opportunity.”

“It doesn’t matter what they are saying,” David said, scratching his nape. “The Emperor has given the order.”

“I’ve seen Archdemons give orders,” Alizana said, “only for their vassals to disobey them. Goddamnit, vassals have turned against their lieges since… since vassalage has been invented, I’m pretty sure. Why would it be any different in the Empire?”

Goddamnit? Jackson thought with a little smile. Is she borrowing my expressions? She had said it in English, as well, though not without an accent.

“Again, the Hexacracy is nothing like the Empire,” David said. “The Hexacracy all but encourages vassals to take up arms against their Archdemon in the hopes of becoming Archdemons themselves. Rule by the fittest, they call it. In the Empire, everyone agrees the Emperor is the cornerstone of a safe and stable society. Like I said, he rules by divine right. To go against him is to go against the Divine.”

“So what? There has never been any assassinations? Any uprisings? Any revolts?”

“Of course there has. But far fewer than you’d see in the Hexacracy. Here, they’re the exception, not the rule. I’m telling you, the Empire stands for order.”

Alizana tutted, still clearly unconvinced. Jackson realized this little debate could go on for hours, yet had very little chance of changing anyone’s mind. Deciding to end it early, he asked David:

“So you’re saying you won’t join us.”

“I’m sorry, Jack,” David sighed. “As I said, my duty is to the Emperor.”

“All right, I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it. In that case, can I ask you something else?”

“What is it?”

“The Empire and the Rebellion are fighting against a common enemy. We should be allies. Or, at the very least, we shouldn’t fight each other. Could you try to convince the Emperor of that? Be our diplomatic emissary, or something like that?”

Alizana cast him a glance.

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” Jackson told her. “We don’t want to fight two enemies at once. The Empire doesn’t either, right?”

That last part was addressed to David, who held his chin and considered it.

“I suppose it… Yeah, it does make sense. I can definitely tell him about your alliance, and I’m pretty sure he’ll agree to a non-aggression treaty. But, err… What should I tell him about…” He gestured to the Hellhounds.

“Tell him what I told you: they’re defectors from the Hexacracy.”

“Yeah, but… That’s not the whole story, right?”

“We are defectors from the Hexacracy, and fighting against them tooth and nail,” Alizana said firmly. “What more does your Emperor need to know?”

“Nothing, I guess,” David said.

He went to his horse, took the reins, and got saddled. Jackson untied Florid from the tree and got on as well.

“It was good seeing you again, Jack,” David said. “I’m really glad you’re alive.”

“Same here. I hope we’ll meet again.”

“I’m sure we will. Good luck out there. I’d tell you not to be reckless, but that’d be like asking the rain not to be wet.”

“Pretty much. Hey, hold on.”

Jackson went to get one of the pistol magazines he had retrieved, and handed it to David.

“In case you were running light. The war’s just getting started.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

David pulled on his reins and clicked his tongue, and his horse ran off, heading east, towards the morning’s early lights. Jackson watched him go, his earlier joy now tasting a little bitter. Alizana and her tribemates got back on their rides too, and soon the small group left the forest. The journey back to Vertrisia took fifteen days in total. Jackson had never been so glad to get some sleep as he was on the evening of the first day. He slept for ten hours, and probably would have slept longer if Alizana hadn’t woken him up so they could get back on the road.

The Neha camp was pretty much exactly as it was when they left it. The only difference was that the storage hut had more contents: loot from the battle, various gifts from Atvello, and the special items recovered from the House of the Living Flame. As he arrived, Jackson searched for Sathariel, a little surprised his Demon friend wasn’t here to greet him. One of the Hellhounds -Sanna- informed him he was visiting another tribe’s camp. Probably went to see his buddy Nadikel, Jackson thought.

Those of Jackson’s tribemates who had brought the firearms back were naturally curious as to what those strange objects were. Jackson simply told them they were weapons, which, as he predicted, only honed their curiosity. He let them stew for a couple of days, then agreed to give them a demonstration. They went to a relatively flat clearing located on the other side of the river from the Neha camp. Wooden posts were planted, and dressed with chest plates hanging on nails, and helmets on top. It was difficult to measure distances without any instruments -Jackson had been told some existed in this world, but the Hellhounds simply didn’t have any-, so Jackson resorted to counting his strides. About thirty steps away from the target, he pulled out his pistol. One of the Hellhounds let out an “ah”; Jackson recognized her as the one who had first brought Jackson to camp weeks ago, after disarming him. He had told her then that his pistol was a weapon after she had failed to identify it as such.

“I thought you were making fun of me,” she explained.

“That would have been a bad time for a joke,” Jackson said. “All right, so this is called a pistol.” He showed it to everyone, making sure to keep it pointed downward. “It is small and easier to handle than the other weapon I’ll be showing you. But it’s still a weapon, and it can still kill.”

Grabs-the-Blades, who was also present for this little show, made a skeptical sniffing noise, evidently unimpressed with what, to her, was just a small, black, oddly-shaped object. Jackson was about to say something to her, but decided the best argument would be a demonstration. He pointed his pistol at the first makeshift mannequin, disengaged the safety, took a deep breath, and lightly squeezed the trigger.

All five of the Hellhounds present jumped when the shot resonated in the air, clacking like lightning. Jackson cracked a smile when he saw Grabs-the-Blades almost fall on one of her tribemates. He moved closer to his target and observed. His shot had connected with the helmet, a bit off-center; the bullet had entered it, but not come out on the other side, only damaging the inside. He invited his audience to take a closer look.

It was hard for him not to say “I told you so” to Grabs-the-Blades as she looked surprised, rubbing her clawed finger over the bullet hole as if she couldn’t believe it was real. It was harder still not to roll his eyes when, a moment later, she said:

“You can do the same with an arrow or a spear. And it’s quieter. You can’t hunt with that, the game would run away.”

One of the other Hellhounds -Decla- answered: “Don’t be pig-headed, Tayna! That thing, that, uh, pistol, is much smaller than a bow and arrow or a spear. It’d be much easier to carry, and to use.”

Aha! So her real name is Tayna. I’m still gonna call her Grabby.

“And look at the helmet again,” another Hellhound -Laughs-in-Pain- said. “This weapon allows even a Human to punch through iron.”

“It allows even an old man with no upper body strength to punch through iron,” Jackson said, trying not to be offended by the “even a Human” comment. “And the effects are even better on a target without heavy armor.”

“Maybe,” Tayna said. “It’s still nothing I can’t do without.”

“Oh, you want better, Grabby? I’ve got better.”

Jackson put away the pistol and retrieved the assault rifle he had used for the Tinaun ambush. He had made sure to clean it properly the day before, inside and out. The Hellhounds craned their necks to observe the firearm, two of them commenting on its strange design and on the weird “runes” on its side -the serial number. Jackson loaded the clip, adjusted the sights, then knelt down on the ground. For a second, there, he was brought back to boot camp during his shooting courses, but with his audience whispering instead of his drill sergeant shouting.

He took a bit more time aiming, breathing through his nose. His index finger squeezed the trigger three times, firing three bullets in quick succession. All three hit their target, causing the chest plate to drop.

“Your grouping could use some work,” Byron said.

“Yeah, but come on, this is still a good shot,” Jackson thought-said. “If this had been a dude, I’d have nailed him in the heart.”

“The lung, actually. But, yes, fair enough.”

Decla picked up the chest plate and showed it to her tribemates. This time, the bullets had pierced clean through the metal, and embedded themselves in the post. The Hellhounds were now evidently impressed; even Tayna had nothing more to say. Instead, she picked up one of the bullet cases on the ground, and examined it.

“What kind of arrow is this?”

“It’s called a bullet,” Jackson said.

She sniffed it, and grimaced, clearly disliking the smell of gunpowder. “How do these things work? I see no string or mechanism. Is it magic?”

“Nope, no magic there. It works by… Hum, have you ever seen fireworks?”

“Like in a smithy?” Tayna said.

“Err, no. Like, explosives that make big colors.”

Tayna’s expression was answer enough. Jackson tried again.

“Right, well… Have you ever seen an explosion?”

“Once. A tree caught lightning. Battlemages can do some similar things with their magic, I’ve been told.”

Well, close enough. Jackson went on to give a rough explanation on how firearms worked. Said explanation was a little disjointed and skipped certain aspects -as Jackson didn’t understand them himself-; according to Byron, some of the things he taught were in fact gross oversimplifications. However, he declined to take over when prompted by Jackson. When the young man was done, Tayna had an expression on her face that could be either disbelief or confusion, or a combination of the two. She only had one question:

“Can I try it?”

Jackson smiled. “Yeah, sure.”

He made sure the safety was on before he gave her the gun. Then, he gave her a short Pistols 101 lesson.

“All right. First of all, like I said, this is a weapon. It’s made to kill, and it does. So always be aware of where you’re pointing it. This here is the safety. You have to remove it in order to shoot. If you’re not planning on shooting anything, make sure it’s on, and leave it on. Got it?”

Tayna gave a nod, but there wasn’t much confidence in it. It was amusing for Jackson to see the normally casually cocksure Grabs-the-Blades look so uneasy and out of her element.

“Okay. Now, this is how you hold your pistol. Pay attention. If you do it wrong, you won’t shoot straight.”

As it turned out, the simple act of holding a gun was actually not so simple for someone who had never done it before, especially when that someone was a Hellhound with big, furred fingers. Thankfully, the US Army had long since taken to making weapons that could be used by larger Humanoids. She tried to hold it the way she had been shown, and accidentally pressed the trigger as she did. Thankfully, she had left the safety on as instructed.

It took a few minutes for Tayna to learn the proper shooting stance: placing her feet and arms, relaxing her shoulders, breathing through the nose, and pulling the trigger with just the right amount of strength -Jackson was worried that Hellhounds could be strong enough to strain the metal. Her position still looked awkward and stilted, but Jackson decided it was good enough for the final step.

“Good. You’re ready to take your first shot. Are you excited?” 

He chuckled to himself. Tayna had yet to go back to her usual self.

“First, aim at your target. Make sure the front and the back sights are aligned.”

She took two full minutes to do so, then nodded.

“Right. Now, remove the safety.”

It took her two tries. Click.

“Finally, gently pull the trigger.”

What happened next was anything but gentle. Tayna either hadn’t positioned herself quite right, was surprised by the loud sound, or had badly miscalculated the recoil, but in either case the shot completely missed the mannequin the Hellhound was aiming at. Tayna dropped the gun. She roared, frustrated -and a bit scared, Jackson thought-, and crouched to pick it up, while her tribemates laughed.

“I’m trying again,” she said.

Before Jackson could say anything, she did. Her second shot wasn’t much better, nailing a tree some eighty yards behind the target. This time, however, she didn’t drop the gun. She had blinked, however, when she had pulled the trigger. Jackson instructed her on how not to do that, and attempted to teach her how to do better next time. Surprisingly, in spite of her growing frustration, Tayna paid attention to his lessons.

Her third shot narrowly missed the makeshift mannequin. Tayna swore in her own language.

“Again,” she said.

“Hold on, there,” Jackson said. “The thing is, I only have so many bullets, and I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to find more. If you spend them all…”

“I can make the shot,” she interrupted, a bit testy. “I know I can.”

“Sure, but I was hoping to keep most of the bullets to train the lead huntress. I think it would make more sense.”

“I am the lead huntress,” Tayna retorted.

“Uh… I thought Sanra was-”

He left his sentence hanging, as he had just remembered hearing Sanra’s name during the funeral ceremony after the battle of Atvello. It seemed Tayna had been named as her successor by the tribe. Jackson sighed.

“Okay, then. You can keep at it for a little longer, I guess.”

Thankfully, it took only three more tries for Tayna to finally shoot the target. The bullet had connected with the lower portion of the chest plate, about one inch from the fringe, but it was still a good shot.

“Good job!” Jackson said, giving her a little applause. He turned to the other Hellhounds. “Now, who else wants to-”

“I’m not done,” Tayna said, interrupting him once more.

“What?”

“Barely touched it. I’m trying again until I hit dead center.”

“But you-” Jackson took in the resolve in her tone and in her body language, and decided he had to pick his battles. “Fine, whatever. Just, um, try not to spend too much ammo.”

Tayna vaguely nodded, clearly not paying attention to him anymore, totally focused as she was on her target. Guess that’s why she’s the lead huntress. Jackson gave her half a box of ammunition, and left her to her newfound obsession and went back to camp for lunch.

Said obsession paid dividends. When Jackson came back in the evening of the same day, Tayna was lining up her shots perfectly, now capable not only of hitting the chest plate near the center, but also the helmet. Her cocksureness was back.

“Well done,” Jackson said. “I guess you’re ready for the assault rifle, then.”

Over the course of the next few days, Jackson traveled to the other tribes, to gather volunteers, carefully selected for their experience and their aptitude with ranged weapons, especially bows. He and Byron had come up with the idea to create a specialized unit trained in the use of firearms. Only two of the pistols and three of the rifles he had collected could fit Hellhounds’ paws, and one of each were currently fitting Tayna’s paws, so these volunteers ended up being almost all Humans and Demons. Most took to it with a combination of interest and apprehension -one of them initially believed those weapons to be cursed artifacts-, although none showed the propensity -or the obsession- displayed by Tayna. Quite a few of them were in fact veterans of the battle of Atvello. 

Jackson made clear to each of them that the ammunition was in short supply, and required that the firearms would be used only in battle. In fact, the training alone, which took over two weeks, depleted about a quarter of the available bullets. The result, however, was worth it. While the twenty members of the Rebellion’s new rifleman unit were far from being green berets, they could easily handle immobile targets up to one hundred yards away. Moving targets were more difficult, however, as it had been complicated to train for those.

The end of training was marked by a heavy rain that lasted four days with little interruption, and made the river overflow. Several huts had to be rebuilt, quite a few had to be waterproofed; one tribe’s camp even had to be moved. The summer was truly over.

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