486 Night and Morning

“Hm?” I mumbled. “Is it my guard shift again?”

“What? Hell no.” a female voice responded.

Well, there was only one reaction for that; I stretched out, fluffed my pillow, and started back to sleep.

“Wake up!” she hissed. “Wake up, or I’ll slit your throat.”

I grunted, and grumbled something. As if by magic, I found a blade pressed against my neck. It was cool to the touch, and sharp. With a final protest, I opened my eyes.

Yes, my human eyes. Which were buried in the pillow, and could see nothing.

I gradually became aware of the young woman sitting on my lower back. She smelled like a mixture of paprika and cinnamon.

“Sholwyr?” I asked.

“Not so loud.” she whispered. “What are you even doing here?”

.....

“Infiltrating the army.” I said. “You?”

“Never mind me.” then she took a deep breath and sighed. “Infiltrating the army. Are you trying to assassinate the Fire-Friend captain?”

“Hm?” I rolled the words around, looking for whatever meaning would let me get back to bed quicker. “No, no. I’m supposed to find a way to disrupt the supply caravan.”

“What the... What are you doing HERE?” Sholwyr asked.

“The Conclave of Thorns is insane.” I said. “I’ve ended up here because they won’t leave me alone.”

“That’s not even... shit!” she said, throwing herself to the left and down.

historical

The tent flap opened. “Kid.” Ragnal said. “Shut the hell up and get some sleep. We work sixteen hours tomorrow.”

I did some quick math in my head. “Not fourteen?”

I couldn’t tell if he was shaking his head or using his beard to brush his hand. “Kid... You are sleeping in a cot.”

“Yes.” I said. “It is much more comfortable than the ground, thank you.”

“Bigni and I will be up before dawn. We’re going to wake you. If you don’t get. Some. Sleep. Then tomorrow will be very, very bad for you. You understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good, then stop talking to your imaginary friends. Good night.”

“Good night, Ragnal.” I said.

He let the tent flap fall closed. Before you think I was in some sort of officer’s or luxury tent, it was a fabric and leather box so small my cot stretched both walls, and Ragnal could easily slash open the back wall from the door, were he so inclined.

Sholwyr slowly, carefully, pulled her head over the edge of the cot. “That. Was. Ragnal.” she said. “One of the Dark Narwhals.”

“Black Narwhal.” I whispered back to her.

“How has he not sussed out who you are?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Lack of focus?” I suggested.

“You are an idiot. Do you know who that WAS?”

I smacked my lips together. “I gather not, by your reaction.”

“You want to live one tent over from HIM? He’s the closest thing they have to Miletus. Maybe even better.”

I stretched out quietly.

“I’m serious.” she said. “He survived being thrown into a river full of Makura.”

“I’ve survived...”

“It’s not the same!” then, “If you endanger my mission, I. Will. Kill. You.” she said.

I wrinkled my face, then yawned. “What IS your mission here, Sholwyr?”

“What? I can’t tell you THAT.”

“How do I navigate around...”

“Just go to sleep.” she said. “And don’t freaking do anything that kills anyone above a third sergeant, if you can help it.”

What? What had become of my reputation NOW? I had one, only one, level in a Military class. How was I supposed to... You know what? Two people had told me to just go to sleep. With a final yawn, I did so.

Ragnal was true to his word, flipping the cot upside down on top of me. “I said. Get. Up. Exercise takes time.”

“Huh?” I said, or something similarly profound.

“Up.” he clapped his hands. “Up, up. As a group, we exercise together.”

“Meh.” I said, rolling the cot off me. Even as a yawn rolled forth from me, I sat up. “I suppose I can’t decline?”

“You suppose correctly.” he said.

I emerged into the night sky, the cool night air. I squinted, turning in a circle. “The sun isn’t even coloring the horizon.”

“Welcome to our world, young soldier.” Bigni said. “Now pay attention. We’re going through the stretches that loosen your muscles.”

“I’m going through stretches.” Ragnal said. “You’re just flapping your gums.”

Bigni replied with a yawn that would have done a dog proud, exposing his sharp teeth to the chill of the night. But it might have been for show, because he walked me through ten minutes of stretches and light exercises.

THEN the real work started, forty four minutes of arduous repetition, possibly originally designed as a torture technique. Variants of it, Bigni told me, existed in all armies across the world.

“It’s why soldiers... real soldiers... are worth two or more militiafolk.”

“Like the bulk of the army we have here.” Ragnal said.

Bigni continued as though Ragnal had remained silent. “Sure, anyone can be trained to hold a weapon. But soldiers maintain their weapons, their fitness, their discipline. We can perform as a unit, not just a group of rabble. Our morale is better, our fighting is better, and we can do it longer.”

I was having enough problems getting air into my lungs; I didn’t dare to respond and risk the breathing that was going on.

“There’s a leap of ability power at each level.” Ragnal said, “But that’s not the only measure of strength.”

“Just so.” Bigni agreed. “But... ten counts of butterfly sit-ups and then let’s go splash some water on our faces.”

I accepted the hand he offered, and was almost surprised that I could stand without swaying.

“Heh.” Ragnal said. “Look at the color of his face; he’s been away from proper exercise for too long.”

Ah, the water was glorious! Cold and wet and...

[Exposure to Yellow Fever. Resistance confirmed.]

“Anal assfarts!” I exclaimed. “I just got over that infection.”

Ragnal tasted the water, spat to his left.

Bigni sighed. “Again?”

“Not as strong this time.” Ragnal replied, upending the barrel. “But yeah. It’s still making the rounds.”

“How,” Bigni asked, “do you survive to adulthood in such pestilent lands?”

“The same as everywhere, I guess.” I said. “Mothers, herbs, magic in some cases, faith in others. And yet, I am told roughly one in ten doesn’t make it to adulthood. It amazes me that a full half died getting to adulthood during the Dragon Age.”

Ragnal squinted. “That,” he said, “has to be human propaganda. I mean, look around today and tell me that there’s any shortage of humans.”

Bigni nodded. “And that figure, the one in ten, that sounds low to me. It is unlikely that human mothers care more for their children than real people’s mothers do.”

I held up my hands. “I’ve done no study on either figure, myself. And I yield that the Graveyard of Hattan would be overflowing if those figures were accurate.”

But... could they have been accurate? That amount of death would explain how the place had become an undead nexus. But then, where were the other massive graveyards that had to exist? Ghouls couldn’t have eaten them all, could they?

Ragnal slapped me across the furred part of my head. “Hey, pay attention, kid. We still need to find a clean source of water.”

It wasn’t hard; the next barrel was safe when we got to it, and I left it alone as we left.

After a quick washing and hydrating, it was time to return to camp, and don armor.

“I don’t have armor that wasn’t confiscated.” I said.

“It’s your turn to do the supply run.” Ragnal said.

“No, I even have that recorded in my System.” Bigni said. And then, “Ah, Loki’s Balls on Fire. Okay, I guess it’s my turn.” He made a flicking motion and sighed.

“Shouldn’t take long.” Ragnal said. “He’s small.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“It had better not take long.” Ragnal snorted. “Captain needs both of us if another citizen soldier gets uppity.”

“Citizen soldier?” I asked.

“Our name for the land grubbers.” Bigni said. “The colonist militia.”

.....

“Oh.” I said. “But why would they have any reason to complain? It seems to me that they were getting some good chunks of farmland back north in Whitehill.”

“Let me get my armor on, I’ll see what I can explain while we’re waiting on your new soldier’s kit.” Bigni said.

Ever notice how long twenty minutes is when you’re just dying to learn something?

For those of you fortunate enough not to know, a butterfly sit up brings the right elbow to the outside of the left kneecap, and then down, and up the other way, left to outside right. Two reps, or repetitions, made a single “count”. At no point are your shoulder blades allowed to touch the ground, or your count starts all over again.

Because I wasn’t about to try spreading diseases without even a casting. It just doesn’t end well if you do that continuously. Or, since it involves heinous things happening to the one spreading disease and death, I suppose it does end well ... for everyone else.