Valor and Violence

Jasmine was dimly aware of a dull thump as she regained consciousness. For a moment she drifted, her mind in a stupor as her memories rearranged themselves. There had been an Umbrian mage, she and Asim had dealt with him, the raiders fell before the Calandorian’s onslaught and then… a fist breaking through her flames!

“Gaargh!” she cried, sitting bolt upright, precipitating a sudden stabbing pain in her head. Pressing her palm to her temple, she blinked, taking in her surroundings and trying to piece together exactly what had transpired. Before her, Captain Erwell’s men were dragging the Sixth into a line as the company’s medics bent over them, checking for concussions and bleeding.

Most of the squad seemed to be in fairly good shape, all things considered. Ban was still on his feet but looking the worse for wear as he staggered over towards her. Behind him, the other two short ones were also upright, the one called Mouse leaning heavily against Badger, both of them staring down at Viper and Sparrow. Viper was kneeling over his partner with a worried look on his face, gripping Sparrow’s hand while a medic dug around in the stricken marine’s shoulder with what appeared to be a pair of needle-nosed pliers.

The bloodied marine was pale and sweating but remained silent despite the pain, smiling reassuringly at Viper as the medic tugged something free from the bloody wound and handed it to Captain Erwell.

Nearby, Sergeant Olic waved away a medic with an irritated look as he struggled to his feet and started after Ban. He had only gone a few paces before he stopped, whirled, and grabbed the medic by the scruff of the neck, dragging him along too. Jasmine realised why they were heading towards her when she finally noticed Calris lying on his side next to her, with Ferez fussing over him. Jasmine gasped as she took in his injuries.

Calris’s face was deathly pale beneath a thick rime of blood and soot. Some of the blood came from a deep gash on his forehead, the rest trickling out of his mouth and onto the glass where it mingled with the blood seeping from the angry crater where his chest had been.

She had seen the wound before, but assumed it was shallow, given his ability to move and fight. This close, she saw it was deep and jagged, and haemorrhaging at a frightening rate. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and as she reached out to grasp his hand, she found it cold and clammy.

“Ferez, what do we do?” she asked as she looked over his wounds again, panic burning clarity into her mind as she realised, she knew nothing about treating wounds. “This is… bad.”

“Yes, it is. He is going into shock from trauma and blood loss. Gods, I wish we had an Aetherian with us,” he muttered as he rolled Calris onto his back. He inspected the wound on his chest and the gash on his forehead then opened his mouth and peered inside. Giving a satisfied nod, he stripped off his shirt, bundled it up and placed it underneath Calris’ legs, then turned to the medic as they arrived.

The medic took one look at the scene and wordlessly handed the mage a bundle of clean cloth and bandages. Ferez proceeded to expertly dress Calris’ wounds. Jasmine wasn’t surprised, battlemages tended to see a lot of fighting, and the aftermath it entailed, and Ferez had never been one to rest on his laurels when people needed help. He had likely done this dozens of times over his long life.

“The only thing we can do is stop the bleeding as best we are able and hope it isn’t too late for him,” he said.

“Surely there must be more we can do?” Jasmine asked. It felt like… not enough. The battle was over, they had won, and two of the most powerful mages in the entire Pyrian College stood here. And yet all they could do was strap him up and hope for the best? It seemed wrong that after everything they had overcome, all they could do was sit impotent while Calris fought for his life.

“We’ll keep him warm and let him rest. He is strong, Jasmine. He can survive this,” he said, nodding to the medic and moving out of his way to let him work. “Come, we must speak with the others.”

Unwilling though she was, Jasmine allowed herself to be dragged, literally since her legs still refused to work properly, away to where the captain was conferring with his squad leaders.

“Report, Sergeant,” he said to Olic as the mages arrived.

“Where to even start…” he replied as he lit a cigarette and took a deep breath. He recounted the battle with the Emrinthians up until Calris getting walloped by the Umbrian and the interrogation of the captive. Then he paused, taking another heavy drag of his smoke.

“And then she showed up.”

The captain’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Who?”

“A woman, called herself Elizabeth. She knew about the Key and tried to steal it from the crate while we were busy fighting the Emrinthians. I don’t know if they were in league or not, but she didn’t seem too concerned about their deaths. The officer might shed more light on it, but unfortunately I can’t tell you much. I was out for most of whatever happened after.”

“I can pick up here, boss,” Ban offered, having pried himself away from Calris for the moment, “I was the only one conscious for the whole thing.”

Ban’s regular expression of relaxed affability was gone. He looked strained and fidgety, and his eyes kept darting back to Calris. Evidently, she wasn’t the only one to notice as Erwell put his hand on the marine’s shoulder.

“He’s tough, Ban. He will be fine. Tell me about the woman.”

Ban’s jaw clenched, but after a moment, he relaxed and nodded.

“Well, she was about 5-5, slim but with curves in all the right places-”

“Bull…” Olic growled.

The young marine sighed and ran his hand through his stubbly hair.

“Right, right. I’d say she was a Guilder, based on her clothes, and to be frank, she embarrassed us. She was agile and skilled, but her reaction speed is what really got us. We couldn’t break through her defence. She parried or dodged everything we threw at her and switched up strategies on the fly. I’ve never seen anyone that clear-headed in a fight. Besides you, sir,” he said, nodding to Erwell. “Also, all of her weapons were Resonance Ore devices,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“How many weapons did she have?” Ferez asked slowly, his eyebrows knitting together.

“Can’t say for sure, but it was a lot. She had pipes that used fire magic to launch little rocks or something. They travelled faster than the eye could track. She carried these enchanted globes, too; fire, earth, and light enchantments. It was a fire globe that knocked the sergeant out right at the outset. You all saw the weighted chain, and she had a necklace like the assassin back in Salazaar.”

“By the gods… So much Resonance Ore,” Ferez replied.

“I take it this is surprising?” Erwell asked.

“Surprising and extremely dangerous. People who use Resonance Items too frequently develop Resonant Madness. If left unchecked, it usually progresses to the point of debilitation for the user, but on the way it causes eccentric personality changes, then tempers and depressive episodes, followed by paranoia and antisocial personality. They usually end up killing themselves or others if they aren’t institutionalised.”

“So, she’s talented, armed to the teeth, and mentally unstable,” Erwell said, shaking his head.

“Most likely, yes. The fact she can use so many devices in rapid succession indicates she has an exceptionally strong will, though, so it is hard to say how far along the path she is.”

“Perfect,” Erwell muttered. “What else does this information tell us?”

“She had enchantments from every school barring the Aquis College-” Ferez began, but Ban cut him off quickly.

“Actually, she had something for that too, but it… You know what? Never mind.”

Ferez didn’t ask, absorbed as he was in thought.

“It seems the reach of the Guild Master is further than I thought, even amongst the colleges.”

“Quite,” Erwell said, handing a small metal ball to Ferez. “One of my medics pulled this out of Sparrow. I’m guessing it’s the projectile Ban mentioned. So, she’s an unstable Guild assassin with access to an unprecedented amount of Resonance Items enchanted with magic from every school, and has figured out applications that centuries of mages didn’t. She appeared at the same time as an Emrinthian raiding fleet, yet, crucially, let them die while she tried to steal the Key, and she knew both Ferez and Jasmine were with us.” Erwell paused and rubbed his chin. “Is the Emrinthian fit to talk?” he asked.

“Aye, sir, I’ll have him brought over,” Olic replied, heading to the casualty point.

“What are you thinking, Captain?” Ferez asked as Olic hauled the captive to his feet and dragged him over.

“I’m thinking we have all been played, both us and the Emrinthians. I believe Politis and the Guild Master are behind all of this and, hopefully, the raider validates my theory, but… there is one little detail that isn’t sitting right with me.”

“Why the Guild Master is going to all this trouble,” Asim said, more statement than question.

“Aye. The Guild Master is dangerous, and his organisation far reaching, but this is unprecedented even for him. Why is he so desperate to get his hands on the Key? What does he have to gain?”

“I think I understand what you are getting at, Captain. Politis has significant financial resources, sure, but this is… excessive. The compensation must be more than mere gold for the Master to risk so much on a single job.”

“My thoughts exactly, but,” Erwell trailed off, suddenly looking far older and tired. He swore under his breath. “There are rumours of a war circulating. The Politis family has risen astronomically in wealth and influence in recent years, and they have formed an alliance of noble families from the fringes of the country. Most assumed he would use the alliance to brow beat the Crown into economic and political concessions for the faction, but if he has his sights on a more daring, and traitorous goal… well, I feel like a new king could provide exactly the kind of rewards the Guild Master would want. We need to know what this Key does, High Mage, if it can really change the course of Politis’ planned rebellion…” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I believe we narrowly avoided a disaster just now.”

“This is avoiding a disaster?” Jasmine blurted out. “Two of your men are in a critical condition!”

Captain Erwell turned to regard her, his mouth setting in a hard line.

“Actually, Apprentice, eight of my men are in a critical condition. And three are dead. Or did you forget about the other four ships out there? My men and I are here fighting and dying at the request of you and your master. But that’s what marines do, die on behalf of the elites.”

The tone of his voice hit Jasmine like a physical blow. She did not know; she had assumed that the battle on the sea had gone smoothly with Ferez present.

“I’m sorry. I spoke hastily,” she replied, averting her gaze. The captain sighed, and she looked up to find him rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“I’m sorry for speaking harshly, Jasmine. But this is the reality of what we do. If it upsets you, I encourage you not to get close to my men,” he said pointedly, causing her face to burn as she glanced back at Calris. She wasn’t close to any of the marines, and she didn’t even like Calris, but she had still been unprepared for the realities of battle. In the heroic sagas, the heroes fought against impossible odds with a smile and a witty remark, everyone returning home safe and sound at the end.

Korath the Great was never interred in a death shroud after being riddled with arrows. Venin the Bold never had his chest cavity flayed open while he screamed. She didn’t feel glorious, having won a brilliant victory. She just felt tired, and sore, and sick. Sick with worry for the wounded, and sick with anger that she could do nothing for them.

Even including the Ape.

Unable to say anything, she chewed her lip and stewed as Olic returned with the Emrinthian. His hands were bound in front of him, and he was covered in blood and bruises from the battle, but his wound had stopped bleeding and his treatment seemed fair. Captain Erwell extended his hand to the raider, surprising Jasmine and the man both. He cautiously accepted it.

“I am Captain Erskine Erwell of the Royal Calandorian Navy, released temporarily by the Calandorian Royal Family and here at the behest of High Mage Ahud of the Mage’s College of Pyris,” Erwell said.

The raider studied the captain’s face carefully as he replied.

“My name is Bahad Badawy, Lieutenant of the Serpent Navy, here on orders to recover a dangerous weapon the Calandorian Navy is developing in concert with The Six Cities to seize sole control of the Continental Rift.”

Captain Erwell’s eyebrows raised slightly when he heard the reason for the attack.

“That’s why you are here? Was this the same reason your navy attacked my ship on the way to Salazaar?”

“I was not privy to their orders, but it seems likely,” he said, head high, staring Erwell in the eyes. “Know that, though we may have failed, there will be others. We will not allow the Rift to fall into any other nations’ hands.”

“I’m sure. May I ask where this information came from?”

“We have eyes and ears everywhere, Captain. You can conceal nothing from us.”

Erwell shook his head, releasing the man’s hand and turning to Ferez.

“Someone fed their intelligence network false information. This ‘Elizabeth’ must have been sent to recover the Key, either in the chaos or the aftermath.”

“That is… bold.”

“I agree, but that woman took on a mage, a guardsman, and a squad of my finest fighters. She was willing to fight you, too, until almost a hundred marines arrived. The primary plan would have been to snatch the Key in the chaos of battle. The alternate was probably to kill the survivors from whichever side won and take the Key, or snatch it while we were seeing to our wounded. It might have worked if our victory hadn’t been so decisive.”

“Cunning.”

“I was going to call it cowardly.”

“Enough!” Badawy shouted. “I will not stand here and listen to you talk as though I’m not here!”

Erwell stared at him for a long moment, but the Emrinthian was uncowed. He stared straight back, proud despite his defeat. Eventually Erwell shrugged.

“Alright, I’ll admit that was rude. You want to talk? Then talk.”

“You say we were duped. That the Serpent Navy was manipulated, by the Guild Master of all people, as easily as a naïve child. That all my men… my friends… have died for nothing.”

“I am sorry, Lieutenant. But yes.”

The look on the raider’s face almost broke Jasmine’s heart. In a single heartbeat she saw surprise, confusion and anger flash across his features, before they were all replaced with the broken look of a man who just discovered the sacrifice of everyone he was close to had been senseless.

“Then please, kill me. I cannot bear to keep living, knowing I led my soldiers to slaughter for nothing.”

“I will not, Lieutenant. Though that may be your wish, I will not compromise my character by executing an unarmed prisoner.”

“Then give me a knife that I might do it myself!” the raider screamed as tears filled his eyes.

Captain Erwell stared at the raider, and Jasmine wondered what was going through his head. Erwell had proven to be a shrewd and intelligent man. Before he spoke, she could see the cogs whirring in his head, as he weighed up all the information and angles before making a decision, but she did not understand why he paused now. Surely, he would not accept the man’s request?

Jasmine tensed, ready to intervene. Although she had been this man’s enemy before, now he was broken and helpless, and she would not suffer his execution, Erwell be damned. But when the captain spoke, it was not to summon a blade.

“Lieutenant Badawy, how long have you served the Emrinthian Empire?”

“Ten years,” he replied, pride shining through his grief.

“And in those ten years, have you not lost friends and comrades in service of the Empire?”

“This is different,” he said. “My command is dead. The fleet has been destroyed.”

“The only difference is one of magnitude,” Erwell replied, cutting him off. “Your failure and the deaths of your men do not absolve you of your duty.”

Jasmine gaped. The man was on the brink, so destitute he was demanding to end his life. If Erwell was trying to change his mind, Jasmine felt that a different conversational track would have been more effective. And yet, it seemed to work. The raider settled slightly, some of the tension in his posture ebbing away. He was still rightfully agitated, but he had stopped demanding a knife, which she considered progress.

“Why are you saying this?” he asked. “Though we were here under false assumptions, you are still my enemy. If I do not die here, if I do not abandon my duty, we may well cross swords again someday.”

“And should that day come, I invite you to try and take vengeance for your fallen. But I suspect that our battle here today was orchestrated by someone who has neither of our nation’s interests at heart. Tell me, you saw the fight between my men and that woman, correct?”

“Fight? She spanked your men like disobedient children.”

“So I’m told. Was she working with you?”

“No. I’d never seen her before, though you can believe I was cheering for her.”

“What if I told you she was the reason you and your men came here to die?”

The Emrinthian chewed on this for a good while. “Then I would vow to kill her along with you and your men.”

Captain Erwell nodded, satisfied with this response.

“That’s fair enough, I suppose. When your wounds have closed enough for you to travel, I will give you enough money to make your way back to Emrinth.”

“I am not such a fool as to believe you would do this out of the goodness of your heart. Speak plainly your motives. And do not think I will sacrifice my dignity for my life,” he added.

Erwell muttered something that might have been ‘bloody Emrinthians’ before he replied.

“I am using you to my ends. To Calandor’s ends. But I also believe this will serve Emrinth as well. I want you to relay a message; about what happened here and why a Calandorian warship was actually in the Rift.”

“Sir…” Olic interrupted, drawing hard on his cigarette, concern on his face. “Is this wise?”

Jasmine could understand the sergeant’s misgivings. The captain was playing a dangerous game. Granted, the Guild Master and Politis was their true enemy right now, but that didn’t change the fact Calandor and Emrinth had been raiding and killing each other for years. She even understood that Emrinth had invaded Calandor in force many years ago, though it had been unsuccessful in the end. Obviously. Regardless, even if it supported their mission, telling the Emrinthian anything could see Erwell swinging from a noose for treason.

“The Guild Master has fed your spy network false information to have you do his dirty work. He attacked us unsuccessfully in Salazaar, and even he lacks the resources to attack a marine company in force outside of his city. I believe he had you come here to attack us so that the woman, one of his agents, could steal his objective in the chaos.”

Badawy licked his lips as he considered his response. “What is he after? What do you have that he would go to all this trouble?”

“Truth be told, I don’t know. We were travelling here to figure that out when you attacked us.”

“You really want me to go back and tell my commanders this was a setup, because the Calandorians we were sent to kill told us to? And that we can take it on good faith they aren’t developing a weapon against us, even though he wouldn’t tell me what it actually is or what it does? You ask an enemy for too much blind faith, Captain,” he said, crossing his arms.

Erwell scoffed, an amused look on his face. “How about I show you, then?” he asked as he opened a pouch hanging from his belt and pulled out the Key.

“Captain Erwell!” Ferez protested, his mouth hanging agape.

Olic blanched and swore, puffing on his cigarette in a rapid staccato.

Asim winced and let out a frustrated sigh.

Ban scratched himself and looked around, confused.

Jasmine just stared, dumbfounded. Just because they didn’t know what they were dealing with didn’t mean that no one knew. Politis and the Guild Master, at least, must know what it did, and they considered it important enough to risk the ire of an entire nation to attain. If someone within the Empire could identify the Key, who knew how they might react?

“That’s it?” Badawy asked as he peered at it. “I’ll concede it doesn’t look like much of a weapon.”

“As I said, Lieutenant. We don’t know yet. But someone in your Empire might. Go back and tell them what I told you. Describe this to them, and then see what they say.”

Badawy looked around at everyone’s faces, registering the open shock and dismay, deciding the captain was, therefore, likely telling the truth.

“I agree to your terms, Captain Erwell, but one final warning. If what you say is true, I will ensure the Guild Master dies for what he has done. But know this; after he is dealt with, I will come for you.”

“And I will happily kill you then, Emrinthian, but for now, both your country and mine need you alive. Sergeant Dubbo!” he called over his shoulder. “I want you and the Third to escort this man to the nearest town. When you get there, return his weapons and possessions, and send him on his way with some coin.”

“Aye, sir,” one of the sergeants replied, collecting Badawy and leading him towards the entrance. As they left, Captain Erwell turned to the rest of them, an expectant look on his face. Ferez was the first to speak.

“What in Val’Pyria’s name did you just do, Captain?” he demanded, before Olic stepped between them, hand on the hilt of his sword. “If they know what it is, they may redouble their efforts!”

“Watch your tone, sir,” Olic warned as Asim planted himself in turn between the old man and the marines. Jasmine could feel the tension in the air and was ready to inject herself when Ban piped up.

“What’s the big deal? The Captain was just muddying the waters.”

“What?” Ferez asked.

“Well, first the Emrinthians sent a raiding party, right? Then they sent a small fleet. So next time they will probably send a big fleet, and if that doesn’t work, then they’ll send an even bigger one and so on, so forth. As long as they think we’re on the verge of gaining control of the Rift, they can’t ignore us. They rely on it too much. And all this is before they figured out what we’re actually carrying around? Maybe they know what it is, and it doesn’t actually bother them, in which case, great! One less enemy to deal with, but if it’s still something they are worried about, then they sure as Pit wouldn’t want the Guild Master getting his hands on it, either. And they’ll be pissed he compromised their spy network. So yes, they may still come after us, but now, they need to come after us, while also going after the Guild Master. For the Guild Master’s money, he can keep trying to hunt us, but now he’ll be fending off Emrinthian forces too. Between that and the crackdown in Salazaar, he’s going to struggle finding room to move. And while everyone is busy killing each other, we quickly figure out what the thing does, then sail off into the sunset for tea and medals, happy as a Skjar Ice Pig in an offal trough.”

Jasmine couldn’t help but laugh. Two mages, a college educated guardsman, and a marine sergeant all failed to figure out the captain’s plan while this one foul mouthed, unwashed soldier had figured it out instantly. He was clearly not the simpleton he pretended to be. The tension in the group dissipated instantly.

“Was this really the plan, Captain?” Ferez asked.

“Aye. Risky, I know, but if we can create a headache for the Guild Master, it’s worth it. Once we leave the Rift, the Emrinthians will struggle to reach us. The Guild Master, on the other hand, has agents everywhere. Anything we can do to weaken his organisation now will only help us in the long run.”

Ferez tapped his finger to his chin and chuckled. “To be honest, I’m a little embarrassed Ban figured that out, and I didn’t.”

“Don’t feel bad, Fez, we can’t all be geniuses like me and the Cap,” Ban beamed.

Erwell shook his head. “Don’t lump me in with you, you bloody pillock,” he muttered before turning back to Ferez. “We’ll establish the camp here and start patrolling while you figure out how to activate this thing. I’ll be around here somewhere when you figure it out. And please, don’t dawdle.”