Chapter 42.
There was a nervous buzz around town, and a crowd was gathering inside the gate. A man, dressed in elaborate red and blue attire, rang a bell that echoed with magical force. As I joined the crowd, I felt almost like I was standing near the speaker at a concert. He seemed like some kind of herald or town crier. Curious, I followed the lead of everyone else.
“Oyez, oyez, oyez!” The man yelled, ringing the bell a final time for emphasis as the crowd all quieted down. “War has been declared by the Duke of Hator! In the service of the king, Lord Grosswin is mustering troops. Any able-bodied person can make up to four shillings a day for their service. Report to the castle to register!”
My stomach dropped. War? Fucking war?!
The town crier didn’t give any more details; instead simply continued down the street, repeating the message as whispers and chatter broke out.
What… Fucking war?!!
Oh god. War. Like actual war. Jesus fucking Christ.
It wasn’t as though war as a concept was something new to me. Armed conflict had been plenty common; there was a whole industrial complex for the sole purpose of profiting from war. Genocide, invasion, kidnapping, assassination, they all had their own headlines. But mercifully, I had never been at the receiving end of any of it.
Until now.
Baron Grosswin was the king’s vassal. So if the king was now at war, we were also at war. As much as I could count as a part of any we.
Fuck!
I hurried back towards the outposts. That ominous announcement had left me with about a million nervous questions. And the town crier had already gone on his merry little way.
I had been pretty oblivious to the geopolitics of the world. I couldn’t even remember the name of the kingdom I was living in, despite having probably been told at some point. Now, with war on the horizon, I was terrifyingly out of the loop.
I scampered up the stairs two at a time and burst into the Tavern Crew’s space. “We’re at war!” I announced, panicked. It wasn’t a good explanation, but it was as much of one as I could come up with right now.
All four stopped bickering to look at me.
“We know,” Frida offered gently with a comforting smile.
“Oh,” I nodded. But her tone was reassuring; she wasn’t panicking, at least. “Who… are we at war with exactly? What is going on?!”
I was obviously interrupting, but it was definitely mostly the kind of situation which warranted it.
Martrix nudged Kimrel, who cleared his throat. “The Duke of Hator is Lyndon the Kind,” he began. “He is the older brother of Harold the Earnest, who is King of Dremor.”
Dremor. That was the name. I had totally blanked on it. “Wait, brothers?!” I huffed, though it came out with more surprise than it warranted. Historically, it was super common on Earth.
Kimrel just nodded. “Their father died… must be almost five years ago now. And despite Lyndon being the eldest, the crown fell to Harold for whatever reason. The two have been arguing about it continuously, or so I’ve heard.”
I nodded, doing my best to follow along.
“Regardless, a declaration of war wasn’t unexpected; tensions have been heating up for some time, and Lyndon has the support of several quite prominent families,” Kimrel continued.
“Okay, cool,” I muttered. “Where exactly is the uh… fighting happening?” I asked
“Well…” Kimrel sighed, seeming to consider it. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I will be meeting with my father at the capital to join the fight. If Lydon’s forces cannot be repelled, then that will be his final destination.”
“A while west,” Martrix supplied for clarification, seemingly catching my worry. “Nowhere near here.”
Finally, some good news that I could actually make sense of. “Hold on, you’re joining the fight?” I frowned.
“We all will be,” Frida added apologetically.
“No, absolutely not,” Petven immediately protested.
“There’s a bit of a disagreement,” Martrix grimaced. “I was under the impression that we weren’t that kind of mercenary.”
“Yes, and I agree,” Kimrel sighed. “However, I must go out of duty. My house owes Harold a debt.”
“And thus we’re all going because we’re a team,” Frida added. “Come on, Martrix, you’ve known him longer than anyone,” she pleaded.
Martrix shook her head. “I’m not a soldier. There’s a big difference between slaying monsters and hurting people. I’m a bard, I tell stories, I bring joy and entertainment. It’s just not what I do.”
“And human politics really aren’t any of my business,” Petven added with distaste. “It sounds to me as if Lyndon has a rightful claim to the throne. I hardly see why we’ve all got to go to war over it.”
“Because we’re going to help Kimrel,” Frida reiterated with determination.
I sighed as I watched them continue back and forth, around and around. I wasn’t sure I had ever met a group of people who bickered as much as these four. Eventually, they would tire each other out and make a decision.
My decision was an easy one; I was staying right here. No way in hell I was getting involved in aristocratic feuding. I didn’t want the Tavern Crew to go. They were my friends, and I wanted them to be safe. But they were adventurers, or mercenaries, whatever. They didn’t really do safe, and I wasn’t really one of them.
All of this made my head spin. I was only finally starting to get a decent handle on my life here, and now a war had broken out.
On a very, very flimsy bright side, I was hardly going to be drafted with my missing arm. Though it left me equally vulnerable and quite limited in my ability to defend myself if it came down to it.
I couldn’t even really picture it. Regardless, war wasn’t anything like dissolving a few giant centipedes and already that had been far beyond anything I had been comfortable with.
Fuckkkkkk.
At some point during dinner, it was decided they would all go. That seemed to dampen the mood significantly, regardless of how much I lost at cards. Personally, I thought they were all a little crazy, Kimrel for his fixation on honour and the rest of them for deciding to go with him.
What use was honour to a dead man? At least his friends would do their best to stop him from ending up a dead man. But they could just do none of it in the first place… why risk your life because some rich guy couldn’t be bothered to work out his problems face to face? This wasn’t a fight against tyranny, or for human rights or anything; it was a squabble between nobles who would both walk away from this alive and well over a field of the dead.
I drank maybe more than I should have and barely slept a wink. This time, the Tavern Crew would be going away for a long time, and they might really never be coming back.
It was almost horrifyingly simple. They were all up before me, once again packing up, gathering supplies, shining armour and sharpening weapons. I felt like I was standing in the eye of a hurricane, as within a few hours, they were ready to head out again. So, so fast, and they were leaving again.
Frida gave me a hug, holding me tight. “It might be a few… months,” she admitted. “But we’ll write. Just make sure to tell us all about how the Academy goes.”
I nodded, still searching for the right words. I still couldn’t mentally catch up, time slipping through my fingers. I wouldn’t see them for months. This was an actual goodbye, and I was still too stunned to really process it. I wasn’t good at goodbyes; then again, no one was.
“I-I will,” I nodded. “I’ll make sure to include all the juicy details for Martrix,” I added, trying to lighten the mood.
Martrix smiled, giving me a hug next. “You’d better. I paid good money for that gossip.”
I chuckled, trying and failing not to cry once again.
Martrix squeezed me tighter. “Room's still ours until the new spring. You’re welcome to it as long as you want it. Just try not to destroy the place.”
That was a small relief; I was more worried about their well-being. “Only if you all come back with all your limbs,” I replied adamantly. “Or else I’m trashing the place.”
“We’ll do our absolute best,” Martrix grinned. “Though I do think I’d look rather charming with a nice big scar.”
“No scars,” Frida assured me. “I’ll take good care of them,” she nodded resolutely.
Kimrel gave me a hug next. “We’ll be back, I promise.”
“You can’t promise that,” I croaked.
“I can,” he smiled, dragon maw and all. “We shall meet again, and I will make sure to include all our juicy details from the battlefield in our letters.”
I shook my head with a chuckle. It shouldn’t have worked. But his stupid jovialness held a certain sway.
Even Petven gave me a hug. “I’ll make sure these idiots make it back alive,” he told me, as if it were an easy task to accomplish. “Focus on your studies. You’re an outworlder, you’ve got so much to offer the world,” he shrugged.
I stared at him in disbelief. How once could be so touching and yet uninvested in anything I couldn’t begin to fathom.
I waved as they all descended the steps. “Bye! Be safe!” I called, my throat tight with emotion.
All smiles and brave faces, they waved back as they headed for the gate.
I stood there for a long time after trying to breathe past the suffocation in my chest. My friends had just gone off to war. Everything had changed so impossibly fast.
Some things might never change, but others were far too fleeting.