“When we got back, the tower was empty,” reveals Vong, sounding disappointed. “It actually went down quite a ways, maybe six levels. It could probably be built back up since the foundation seemed really good.”
I interpret this as simply “the tower was empty upon their return”.
“It smelled like shit,” adds Rakatha.
If goblins had been using it, this is no surprise.
Vong’s eyes go wide and he grins, “Oh yeah, it did! Really bad! Anes was positive it was on account of goblins.”
“Right,” says Level, “where is Anes?”
Did they manage to get my replacement killed with their antics? Their casual manner doesn’t tell me one way or another, since I think they’d all act the same, regardless.
“He’s at the glen,” says Ralith. “He said he would come by afterward.”
“Ah, that makes sense. The glens are very sacred to druids,” nods Level. He is, of course, taking down notes on the group’s verbal report.
“Yeah, he was telling us about his order and why the glens are so special,” adds Vong.
How could he grow up in a city with a glen in it and not know why they are special? I’m a foreigner and even I know that they are the reason Elysium came to be and remains being.
Level prompts the group to stay on track, “Find anything at the tower?”
“Not much, just old stuff. After that we looked around to see if we could find where the goblins went, and the tracks went off in a few directions.” Vong uses his entire body to explain. “We came across some bandits and fought. We have a bunch of swords and some other stuff from the bandits. Do we hand it over to you or is it ours to sell?”
Curious. None of them seem to be carrying anything I wouldn’t expect or appear overladen with weaponry, other than Rakatha. He, however, seems to have the same number of weapons I saw on him last.
Then I remember Pil. Probably instructed to stand outside again, weighed down by a bunch of rusty, old weapons that any blacksmith would only pay the price of materials for and melt down to ingots. Hardly worth the effort to carry back all this way.
“Oh? Hmm,” ponders Level, “anything that seems like a magic item or a family heirloom should be turned in so we can see if they belong to anyone or have any harmful effects. Any common equipment you find, you’re welcome to keep or turn in. Your call.”
“Nice,” says Vong, nodding with satisfaction.
Ralith adds, “We didn’t find anything that might be considered special in any way.” His hands are folded in his lap, and he’s discretely picking at his fingernails.
“Well, good job,” says Corporal Level. “Let’s get you paid and talk about your next assignment.” He shoots a knowing look at me and then counts out the group’s pay, setting neat stacks on the edge of his desk for each member.
“I was thinking we could go see if there’s any action up by where Anes lives,” offers Vong. “Is anyone else in that sector?”
Level pulls out his sector map. “Yes, Hanem’s squad. I had something different in mind, however.”
Twitch, Ralith, and Rakatha’s body language indicates that they aren’t really involved in the discussion.
Vong leans forward with wide eyes and an even wider smile, “Oh yeah? Let’s hear it!”
“I’ve decided to make this group a tactical field unit,” says Level, pulling out a sheet of paper from his ample stacks and preparing to read from it.
Vong is so excited he immediately exclaims, “That’s awesome!”
His cousin died a week ago, and he was devastated and pondering revenge. He said he wanted to go on patrol to keep his mind off of it, but he seems to have forgotten all about it, by my assessment.
“It’s not all fun and games,” explains Level. “This means you’ll often be given intelligence that needs following up on. You might be out in the field on a mission for a single day or an entire month.”
“We’re more than ready,” says Vong confidently.
I doubt that.
“The group will get a pay raise and will get bonus pay if you bring back good intel. Good intel is anything that leads to another successful operation, by either the Corps or the military.”
“Like the cursed farm?” asks Vong.
“Things like that, yes,” replies Level.
I can only imagine the kinds of inane rumors that Vong is going to latch onto now. Although not motivated by the bonus money, he seems to enjoy being praised. I will have to keep the party from appearing greedy and incompetent by trying to report bad intelligence.
Vong appears only too ready to begin. “What’s our first tactical field mission?”
Corporal Level looks down at the paper he had brought out to read from, “I need your squad to go northwest to sector B-2. There are multiple accounts of hellhounds being seen in that area, killing livestock and causing all kinds of damage to the farms.”
“Actual hellhounds?” Rakatha asks, suddenly paying attention again. He’s got an intense look about him, but I can’t say whether it is excitement or fear, or both. Hellhounds are not from this region. Perhaps they are common where he hails from? Or maybe they were a novelty opponent when he fought in the pits.
“That’s what the report says,” explains level, “but that’s why I need you to go out and verify.”
Vong still seems quite excited, “Should we capture them, if we find any?”
“No,” says Level, “just put them down, be they hellhounds or just rabid wolves.”
“Okay,” says Vong, but I sense his mind’s inner workings haven’t put that thought to rest.
“Take your time and clear out the trouble. Come back when you’re done or, at most, check back in after two weeks,” Corporal Level adds.
“Do we need to check in at the sector’s farms before we begin?” I ask, referring to the new policy Level explained to me a week ago.
He shakes his head, “No, that’s something the standard patrols are doing. As a special tactics unit, completing your mission is the only aim.”
“B-2. Got it! Anything else?” Vong smiles.
“That’s all. Just check in after two weeks regardless, okay?” says Level.
“Sure, will do!” Vong stands and turns to address the group, “Let’s head out tomorrow. We’ll meet at the usual place, yeah?”
Twitch nods, Ralith nods, Rakatha nods.
I say, “Since we will be hunting animals, I recommend getting ranged equipment and, perhaps, other items to help with this.”
“Good idea, Zer!” says Vong.
“Zer Khaldun,” I correct.
“Okay, everyone get a ranged weapon and gear up for a long hunting trip!” Vong tells the group, as though only he can hear me.
Let him act the leader. Let him take my counsel and spew my words forth as though they were his own. I can use him for my own gain, and without putting myself out in the open.
The Wordbearer Chronicles is a dark fantasy web series with new passages on Tuesdays.
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