We walked a full night, but the next evening, the rift seemed no closer.
Just being able to see the rift didn’t actually mean we were all that close to it. The rift was enormous. It was hard for me to wrap my head around how big it was. Estermont had been a whole duchy of Tacuria, just like Denarla. Estermont, according to old maps, was larger than all of Charlost.
Most of that land was now covered by the rift. According to Sergeant Seyar, we were still more than sixty miles away. Three more days at our current pace, assuming the weather treated us well. Unfortunately, a thick layer of clouds had rolled over the sky as we began our dusk march. We were still closer to Pemolar than we were to the rift.
Even in April’s world, there were very few things large enough to be visible so far away that you couldn’t reach them by walking for a full day. The only comparison I could think of was approaching the Rocky Mountains from the flat plains of eastern Colorado.
The rift was hidden behind trees and hard to see from here without a convenient Reid to climb on top of, but each step toward it made the world a little brighter. Even so, it left me with a creeping feeling. Something about the rift’s light felt.. Off. Wrong, in some unnatural way.
“Here you go!” came an excited voice behind me.
I turned and smiled as Uncle Marnakus approached, with all the sound of a boulder, carrying a hemp sack filled to the brim with materials. We’d only packed up camp about half an hour beforehand and the afternoon sun still lit the sky.
When he reached me, he held the sack out, gesturing for me to take it.
I eyed it warily before looking at his massive arm. Then back to the sack. He was wearing his full regalia and marching in metal plate, and it certainly didn’t look like he was struggling, but I knew I’d told him his need required a huge chunk of metal. At least forty pounds of it, and more supplies besides.
“You… surely don’t think I can hold that, do you? Put it on the ground, silly!–uh. Sir!” I said, tossing him a lazy salute.
There were plenty of people walking around us, some of whom might take offence at a private calling a High Bannerman silly.
That still struck me as odd. It just seemed like the military should be more structured somehow, but I supposed as long as the army got where it needed to go... It occurred to me that the army likely hadn’t moved this many wagons or people for a few decades. Ever since the rift borders had been established, they’d been standing armies. No need to go anywhere. The monsters and enemies were all conveniently right in front of them.
“It’s not that heavy,” he said before dropping the sack to the ground with a loud clunk.
On a whim, I grasped the sack and tried to lift it. The damn thing must’ve weight eighty pounds. I glared at him. “What is your strength stat?”
“Forty-three!” He said proudly. “I’m level fourty-one, you know.”
“Uh huh. You know I’m level sixteen, right? With strength to match?” I asked.
“Well, we’ll get that fixed down at the rift. Plenty of levels to be had killing goblins even for privates. Especially for privates, in fact. Sixteen actually isn’t so bad for a farm girl.”
“I was fourteen before the riftbreak,” I said. “Had a run in with a war troll, and then again with three goblins.”
“Your father told me about the war troll when he was giving me the pepper paste. Is it truly so effective?” he asked. “It smells like rotten a kerlunka.”
“That’s intentional. If you actually get some on your face or inhale the liquid type, it can knock you on your ass and blind you. Doesn’t seem to work so well on goblins, but I guess war trolls have sensitive noses and eyes.”
“Aye, that tracks. War trolls use their noses to track. I’ve seen them do it,” he replied. “For now, I’m excited to discover what you might make for me! Your father told me about his scythe.”
I shuddered.
I’d been steadily re-amassing a stockpile of free points over the evening. Two more people had come to me. Mandek had gotten a sling that enhanced his range and seemed to give him a targeting reticle, though he didn’t have a word for that. Not as amazing as Reid’s bow, but the boy was overjoyed. He used a sling to scare wolves away from his sheep and to hunt small game.
Klyder, the Mitoras victim who had been scolded by healer Ake, hobbled along behind the army back to Mitoras after being healed. He hadn’t joined in Pemolar, but he’d decided to do so after he saw the devastation the rift monsters had wrought on his home. I’d grown close enough to him duriing his healing that I’d been able to make him a strange pair of boots after he’d gathered me some leather, string, aether dust, and feathers.
Ordinary Brown Boots
Effect 1: Injuries to the lower extremities are healed over time while these boots are worn.
He, obviously, needed them to run from war trolls, and while Normuran and Ake both had done wonders in getting him up and moving around, he still wasn’t back to one hundred. Hopefully, the boots would help with that.
An extra sixteen points, eight each from them, put me at a comfortable thirty-three free points available, and I was hopeful that my Uncle had a skill as high as Mom did.
“Okay,” I said as I felt his need bubble flair to life in my mind. Metal, Wood, Paper. “Lets see what you get, huh?”
I reached into the back and touched the metal, even as I activated the need bubble.
The hemp sack fell away as the wooden logs and the chunk of metal floated off the ground. Paper streamed up around the items, it thick jagged edges swirling around the metal and wood as they began to morph and change.
I grimaced a little. This was one of the most flashy bond crafts I’d seen since Hadra’s, and people paused to watch the item begin to form. Thankfully, it wasn’t a storm of ink and light as it had been for Mom, but it was still an impressive sight.
To my surprise, the metal began to shrink rapidly, folding down and in even as it stretched into a long, flat panel. The paper, too, began to morph, creating a sort of cushion as the metal rounded into a… a collar of some sort?
Wood laced the interior, and the paper became a strange cushion layer, all fitting together. Red lights danced around the item as it formed, and the craft was almost completed before I realized what it was.
Soldier’s Gorget
Effect 1: While under the effects of a passive talent, the wearer of this gorget retains perfect clarity.
“Huh. A… a gorget. Well, I suppose protecting one’s throat is always valuable,” he said. The sheer amount of metal in the requirement had thrown me off. Once again, the item's requirements were arbitrarily large and unrelated to the actual amount of material needed for the craft.”
“I really thought it was going to be an axe,” I said.
From Marnakus’s Combat skill, you have gained fourteen free points!
That left me with forty-seven free points. Uncle had really spent most of his life fighting. One hundred and forty points in the combat skill. It was safe to assume he also had large amounts in footwork, endurance, running, and probably
He shrugged. “It’s no matter. It does look like it will easily replace my current one. Perfect clarity. You said I’d need it to prevent me from becoming confused, yes?”
I nodded.
“Well, that’s not good. Gods, I wish you’d have dodged this, Mera. You didn’t need to be here,” he replied lowly to prevent any passers from hearing. “I told the General about your warning. Your talent’s warning. He wants to see you.”
My stomach dropped. “He…. wants to see me? I’m just a private!”
“The general tries to meet most members of his army at least once, regardless of rank if he can. When I told him your talent could warn us of danger, he decided to move up his meeting with you.”
I hesitated. “Mom… told me I should avoid him.”
Markus was still looking distractedly at the gorget, and he hadn’t noticed the sudden panic in my tone. “Not much chance of that now. Why would she say that?”
I shrugged. “She wouldn’t tell me. They have history, and it has something to do with Maulander’s brother.”
“Atrinaska knows the general. How? Is she sure she didn’t just know a different Maulander?” he asked, perplexed as he tore his eyes away from the new piece of armor.
“She saw him in Pemolar. She seemed pretty sure,” I said
He paused, his brow furrowed in thought. “That doesn’t make sense. Maulander doesn’t have a brother. I’ve known the man for six years. I’d know,” he said, assuredly.
“That’s what she told me.” My heart was racing. Alone with the general, who hated my Mom for some reason. Could I get out of this? Not likely.
Only way ahead was through.
“Uhm. Could you go with me? Mom was afraid of him, and she insisted that I should avoid him if I could. I’m pretty sure half the reason Dad joined was to protect me from him.”
I thought about mentioning that Mom had given me something to protect myself as well, thinking of the little black and white rod in my pocket, but decided against it.
He frowned. “The general isn’t a perfect man, but he would never hurt a recruit.”
“All the same, can you go with me?” I asked.
His frown deepened. “Of… of course. I intended to escort you to him anyway. I didn’t know anything about this. When would a farmer’s wife have met the General of the Central armies?”
I had a sudden impulse to tell him that Mom wasn’t always a farmer, but I held back. Mom had kept her identity a secret from me for my entire life. I doubted she wanted me blabbing to anyone. I trusted my uncle, but I held my tongue.
“Maybe we’ll find out together?” I asked.
He nodded. A decent portion of the army had passed us while I crafted his item and we had to move a bit quickly to get back toward the front. Maulander had made certain to walk upwind of the carts, and it did smell a lot better this far away from them.
Maulander wasn’t riding a horse or lounging in a wagon. He walked, the same as his bannermen and sergeants.
When we approached, Uncle Markus became High Bannerman Marnakus in an instant. He snapped to attention before the general, and gave a salute, hand over chest.
I clumsily also gave my own salute as the Sergeant had been teaching us over the past few days. Mine was very different from my Uncles, and I was worried I’d done it wrong.
“General. I report as ordered,” Marnakus said.
“At ease, Bannerman. Private,” Maulander said after returning the salute. He immediately began walking, and we joined him in step. For some reason, I had thought this would be a private meeting in the big tent he set up whenever we stopped to sleep for the day, but it seemed he conducted his business while moving.
“So… A crafter talent that can predict the future,” he said. “What are they putting in the fish in Pemolar these days, to produce such talent?”
“Uhh,” I replied. “Lemon juice and pepper…? I think?”
He snickered before turning to my uncle. “Bannerman. Your report?”
“I requested my niece craft me an item. The item was a gorget, that does indeed appear to prevent confusion, implying that I will be intentionally confused some time in the future. My passive talent is active whenever I’m wearing armor, so it does seem tailor made to me.”
He pulled the gorget out from under his arm and handed it to the general, who examined its properties quickly.
“Frustrating. If I had a passive talent, I would likely keep this. It seems incredibly useful,” he replied before leaning forward to look at me from my place beside my uncle. “Did you know that, private?”
“I don’t even know for sure what my uncle’s talent is, General. Uh. Sir! He told me when I was younger, but it's been almost two years since I last saw him! Sir!”
He chuckled. “General will do, Private Elmerina.”
We continued walking for a short minute while the general thought.
“You’ve caused quite a stir in this camp, private,” he said after a long while. “Stories by the dawn, a spectacle that has the entire brigade exited and chatting. In one night you seem to have managed to improve the morale of a near five hundred fresh recruites, and plenty of veterans besides.”
“I… I just like telling stories, sir. Uh, I mean general! It’s a passion of mine,” I said.
The crowd the first morning had been nearly a hundred privates and sergeants who happened to be nearby. This morning I’d drawn nearly five hundred people. It was actually a little intimidating.
He nodded. “I’m not going to make it an order, but I would like you to continue. Such an improved mood is only good for our army.”
“I will!” I replied.
“You’ve created a bit of a problem for me, private. Unfortunately, when rumors of poisons and drugs spread around, they make people distrustful. There have been Eschal spies found in our camps, and they have led to deaths among our soldiers, even in the central army. So, to discover I may be drugged forces me to cast doubt on all of my subordinates.”
“I… uh… I was just trying to help. My talent is vague. I can only be sure something is going to happen if I see a lot of people with the same need. Like you and Unc–uhh, the High Bannerman.”
“Who else?” he insisted.
“Uhm… H-High Bannerman Presken,” I said, noticing the man. “There was also a girl. Private Uleno.”
I blinked as I noticed that very girl carrying something to another high-ranking officer who’s name I didn’t know.
I started to get a creeping feeling down my spine. Suddenly, I noticed another man whom I’d forgotten. Sergeant Haminal, the asshole who’d directed the attack on Pretyr and Owinda. He was no longer a Sergeant, it seemed, having been demoted to Lancer.
“There were two more. Sergeant Haminal over there, and a man named Mavery. I don’t remember his rank. I saw them back in Pemolar…” I said.
“What does your talent say I need?” he asked sharply.
I focused on his need bubble again. “About forty tons of clothe, the same amount of ether dust, and willow bark.”
“Forty tons? Are you building me a wall?” he asked.
I shook my head. “My talent is social. It gets easier to make things for people the better I know them. You haven’t left a good impression on me, General.”
“No. I suppose I wouldn’t have. Your mother likely did not see me in the best of lights when she was young. I… was a stupid man at the time. I couldn’t believe… well. No matter. It’s in the past. When you see your mother again, please express my apologies, for what little they are worth. I was blind back then. I did not want to see.”
Well. That certainly bore looking into later. I could tell I wouldn’t get anything more out of him on that topic for now, so I decided to change avenues.
“The riot certainly didn’t help. You also knocked out my Oppa’s tooth,” I said.
He grimaced. “I do not like the Diplomacy skill, or its practitioners. I have been manipulated in the past. I do not care to be handled like some noble’s pet. And I never condoned that riot. Everyone involved was demoted.”
I supposed I could understand that.
“In that case, perhaps we got off on the wrong foot. I would like to make you an item as well if I could, but I need to know you better.”
“Ah… that explains the stories. Become someone they love, and it becomes easier for you to earn points. Interesting.”
That was… essentially correct, but it missed the soul of my talent. He presumed I was telling stories with a mercenary desire for free points, when I just loved telling stories and getting to know people.
I decided not to correct him. If that was his attitude, then there was a chance that I would never grow close enough to him to make his need bubble.
He wasn’t a monster though. Mom had been wrong about him.
Mom had been wrong.
What a novel idea.
“General,” a sudden voice called. I looked up ahead to see a private returning on horseback.
“Lancer Mevery. Something to report?” he asked.
The creeping sensation grew stronger. Mevery. The last person I’d seen who had needed to avoid being confused. The man who’d tied my arms behind my back.
All of us were together.
A sudden, massive roar pierced the sky. All of our eyes shot dead straight up to the blanket of clouds, just in time to see a massive winged beast fall right through it.
“Dragon!” Maulander roared, drawing out a massive two handed sword that began to crakle with menacing electricity.
I gaped at the sky, paralyzed as the massive creature descended like a falling god.
Rather than breath fire on us, or swoop down to rake claws across our vulnerable wagons, it beat its heavy wings and moved forward. As it fell, I spotted something that should’ve been impossible.
Sitting atop the dragon’s back in an honest to god saddle was a beautiful blonde haired woman.
The woman tossed something over the side even as the dragon soared over us. Rather than stay and engage us, the dragon sped away, flying back up above the clouds.
“Shoot that!” Maulander cried. Arrows aimed for the packet struck their target true but it didn’t matter as the packet exploded in to powder that reigned down upon everyone in the front end of the brigade. Almost every high bannerman, the general, half the Arc sergeants and all of the upper support staff were immediately covered.
Suddenly, I began to feel dizzy.