Vol. 2, Ch. 108: Unfulfilled Vows
Earlier...
When Hadley approached the run-down tavern two hours from Rivilat, she was tempted to skip the venue. “Jurik, this place is a dump.”
“It’s far cozier than it looks, and the food is better than you’d expect for the price.” She was unimpressed by the broken floorboards of the porch and the welcome sign hanging loosely from a frayed rope, the other having snapped some time prior.
Most of the planks had several screws missing, and were stained with several suspect liquids. To say it smelled like vinegar would be an insult to vinegar; it was a medley of foul substances, including tobacco chew, stale beer, and likely, bloodstains from frequent brawls outside.
It was also the only tavern directly on the way back to Rivilat. "Jurik, I really hope the hospitality is far better on the inside than the exterior appears,” she said with a slight bite to her words.
“The dancing barmaid is a stock and staple for the area,” he said stiffly.
“So I should lower my expectations, is that what you're saying?”
“All I'm saying is give the barley and lamb stew a try." He opened the door door, and she was greeted by tobacco smoke and something else more pungent. including unwashed humanoids throughout the room.
[Hunter Senses], one of her passives, sometimes told her more than she ever wanted to know about people and places. The tavern was about one-third full, and the mood was calm–no yelling voices or jovial banter, and someone was playing a stringed instrument in one corner.
A young barmaid walked over to them, wearing a light-colored shirt and skirt, waving them to an empty table. “Academy members? On business?” she asked, pointing to their lapels.
Jurik nodded, eyes on an empty table in the corner. “We are. What do you have available tonight? We're here to grab a quick meal before we return for the evening. Official duties and all.”
“Well, we got the barley stew and lamb, that's the most popular one. We also have some fish from the local rivers. Oh, we have also been receiving a lot of harvest greens. If you're into the vegetative lifestyle.”
“I'll have the fish and a garden salad," Hadley called out. Jurik raised his brow in surprise. “And half a portion of the stew.”
“Good choice! For you, sir?”
“Stew for me," Jurik answered. "Plus, I'll take any red wine you have in season that pairs well with it."
The barmaid nodded and smiled politely at him. "I know just the thing. It's got notes of courant and elf berries." She scurried to the kitchen and called out the orders through the serving window. Hadley could feel the heat of the stove as one of the cooks tossed a slab of meat, sizzling and dripping, with a brief flare of fire, and a sharp male reply echoed the order back.
The scents from the kitchen, all savory and spicy, smelled far better than the tavern's main room. She leaned back, still uncomfortable with having to remove her weaponry at the door. Her holdout dagger, however, remained ever-present. "So, what's our next move? Bring in an inquisition squad?”
“I'm not quite sure. It is obvious to me that Marisano is involved. Whether that's willing, or coerced, is up in the air.” She didn’t like how much Jurik gave the man the benefit of the doubt. The son had his hands in this, too. “Remember, we go by the evidence. I suspect there are more factors than coin and influence at play.”
“But what does he get out of it by supporting this guy, if it's voluntary?" They spoke in low tones, Hadley leaning over the table a little. Jurik remained poised and calm. “Do you think he has a deal for his own survival against the Varadur?”
“I don't believe the Varadur would ever strike a deal with humanity. Not at present. It may be anathema to their very existence. I’ve yet to see evidence that they would ever parley. Twenty years of battle, and not a single attempt to send negotiators? It’s hard to look past that.”
The barmaid brought out two tankards and poured wine for each. As soon as she was done, Hadley tipped back the tankard.
The wine's sweetness couldn't overcome the bitterness of reality. She set the tankard down with a dull thud. "Jurik, I have spent my entire life knowing nothing but the monsters. I was born three days before the fall of Arivol, before the Sundering. I can’t envision any scenario where this doesn't end with either humanity dead or all the monsters dead. Peace was never an option. I don't think it ever will be. But you still have some faint hope. I just don’t know how.”
Even so, it did nothing to break Jurik’s contemplative expression. "Well, if it's the latter, then I suppose humanity does have the edge in the long run. We’re resolute, all of us: from the avians, to the forest folk, the elves, and more. We’ll endure. Just like we always have.”
“Let's hope so. Because I have no idea how this is going to play out when we get back to the campus.” For a few minutes, they sat in relative silence, while she tasted the wine, noting the tart flavors. "How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
She pointed at his face–where one small burn scar persisted. “Have hope, after this long, after your entire body and soul has been scarred three times over.”
He chuckled softly. “Usually, I remind myself that humanity is still capable of incredible feats. The Awakened, even more so. And occasionally, I open Paglier’s commentary on the struggles and rewards of life.”
“The philosopher?” she asked him incredulously. “He also used to do poetry. I don’t know how many times my mother would recite his book when I couldn’t fall asleep at night.”
“Yes. Yes, he did. My favorite passage is his reflections on life and the rewardless struggles of a soldier. The greatest unsung heroes, more than generals, more than kings. The power of a man defending his land and his heart will always be incalculably greater than the power of somebody trying to take it from someone else."
She folded her arms and leaned back against the chair, considering his words. Her doeskin boot tapped against the floor. “I hope nobody writes poems about us. I've got my own issues, some of which you know. And you? Divines, Jurik, I don't know how you are still alive with what you must have seen in the past twenty years. How does it not become an insufferable burden?”
“I've always valued a strong mind more than I have a strong body,” he said in a slight deflection. "But, I sometimes wonder what I'll do if we somehow survive—if we win. Old soldiers never go home. Their home is on the battlefield. The trials of humanity are their subsistence. Death is an old, familiar friend who greets us with welcoming arms, in the end.”
“Paglier,” Hadley murmured. “That’s near the end, isn’t it?”
“His experiences against a futile rebellion in the land of Arivol? Yes. Those days haunted him.” Hadley saw him rubbing a ring on his finger with his thumb absentmindedly. It was a plain silver band, rather unremarkable, and tarnished. She could think of a hundred different magical rings suitable for a man like him to give him a fighting edge, rather than carrying an old, seemingly unenchanted one. She saw a faint stenciling of a small bird, wreathed in the outlines of a flame.
Then it clicked.
“Were you married? I mean, sorry, are you married? I don’t think I’ve ever asked.”
“I’ve also never talked about the subject,” he offered, sipping from his tankard, if only to occupy his hand with something else. “The answer to that is…not anymore.”
“Oh.”
A discomforting silence settled between the two of them. Hadley tapped her foot faster, feeling like she'd made a mistake. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I just…I don’t know why I never really thought to ask. I always assumed you had someone back home to return to."
“Old wounds are the hardest ones to heal.” His words were barely a whisper, and the shadows cast by the flickering hearth flames danced across his face, as though his flesh were still burning. “Some don’t ever fully heal.”
She took that as her invitation to ask. "I get the feeling she's not passed away. So, what's really the reason?”
Hadley noticed a rowdy group of four men and two women stumble into the tavern, slapping each other on the back and laughing about some stupid joke. They looked like farmhands and workers from the industrial mill not far from the town center. One of them was rather rude and grabbed the barmaid’s wrist as she turned to fetch their orders. He joked about how he'd like an extra serving of her on the side with his order.
Hadley lowered her hand to the hidden dagger in her boot, but Jurik saw the motion, shaking his head subtly. The reaction was only a split second, and he returned to calmly sipping from his tankard.
She still felt unease pressing down on her; now, she was aware of the changed tone of the crowd. She watched the girl give the unruly man a baleful look, bite her lip, and then go into the kitchen.
Hadley's gaze narrowed in on the offender, laughing and slapping the table, joking with his friends, and how to make an introduction.
She had a far different opinion on the matter. Jurik cleared his throat, and she returned to look at him. “You know how you’re scarred from Felix?”
“You mean, how I want to end his suffering about as much as I want to kill him for what he did?” she responded. “Or is this something else? Jurik, you're carrying a bigger burden than the rest of us combined. You're carrying out a friend's final wish by looking out for Juni. I know she's not your daughter. But you treat her as such.”
“What makes you think that?” His wistful answer was her confirmation.
“Because my own father treated me the same way. Quiet, calm, reserved, but very knowledgeable. You remind me of him. He always said how vast knowledge could empower others. He has that kind of raw determination you do.”
He took a slow sip of the wine and attacked, eyes flickering as if he were running calculations in his head. "I was married. We had a daughter together."
She leaned in, curious. The laborers, still laughing and shouting, faded into the background, still telling dumb jokes, spilling beer all over themselves. “The Varadur killed them, didn’t they?”
He didn’t shake his head. It was more of a twitch than a voluntary motion. “No.” That answer surprised her a little. “But they were a contributing factor.”
That doesn’t sound good. Hadley would have asked more, but was interrupted by a whistling call from the rowdy table.
“Hey, looky here, the monster bangers are on a date!” one jeered, making an obscene gesture with his tongue and two fingers. She promptly ignored them, flipping her hair as if she hadn’t heard them.
Jurik continued without skipping a beat. “I think you can put some of it together, Hadley. You’re sharp. You’re tougher than I figured when we first met.”
She nodded. “I think…based on what you’ve said before? I have a pretty good idea of what happened.” He didn’t answer, but rubbed at the waxy scar tissue on his arm.
His reminder was the scars on the outside…and within.
“We’ll kill them all, Jurik. For everything they’ve done. And hopefully, by the end of this? Humanity gets its head out of its collective ass and gives Neska, Juni, and everyone else who fought, bled, and died to put those monsters into the grave, a place to call home.”
“Hey, sweetie! I’m talking to you!”
Her nails curled into the table as one of the men approached. Jurik regained his composure and sipped his tankard, unbothered by the man with the moppy hair and watery eyes, his mouth missing two front teeth.
“Can we…help you with something?” Hadley asked patiently.
The man smelled of beer and acrid-smelling tobacco. “I was just wondering, what's it like to bang a monster?”
What a pig. She delayed her response to the man by tipping back her wine, staring him right in the eyes as she did so, before calmly setting the tankard down. “Wouldn’t know. Why do you ask?”
He pointed at her travelling jacket. “Those lapels. Seen them from people at the academy. The monster bangers. You know! It’s their way of communicating with each other. It’s like…a badge. The bigger the monster, the more colorful the badge!”
He was about as drunk as he was wrong. “I see. Well, if I find anyone with experience, I’ll send them your way,” she said with a smirk.
“Larry! Cut that shit out!” one of the other men shouted out, waving to his inebriated friend. The presumptive Larry gave a shaky wave at his friend and made a dismissive raspberry.
“Nah, see, I gotta hear it from the source! Pretty little lady like you, they must like you. You must like it there to be surrounded by freaks.”
Jurik stood up gently. “Why don’t you join your friends? We’re just for a meal, and then we’ll be gone.” She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She doubted she’d be as courteous with this man if he kept pushing his luck.
Except that her honor was at stake. The man tried to push Jurik away, but stumbled and staggered into the table, spilling Jurik’s tankard. Hadley pushed up from her seat, having had enough. “Okay, buddy, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, but you need to scurry home.”
“Oh? You think I’m not good enough for you?” he asked, rosy cheeked and looking at her lecherously. As far as Hadley was concerned, any woman was too good for him right now. “Have you been with a guy? Or have you found them lacking, so you had to seek out different flavors?”
She saw two of his buddies edging up around the table to their left and right. This felt exactly like a setup. “Listen. Larry. I can call you that, right?”
“You can call me anything you want, as long as I get a taste,” he grinned.
“Right, sure. The thing is, I think in your current state, you’ve forgotten who keeps your inebriated ass alive. People like me and my counterpart here.”
She gripped him by the shirt and reeled him in, acting as a tease for him while also positioning herself to deal with the man to her right should he prove aggressive. “Anyway, the Academy also has a lot of talent that aren’t the Awakened. You know that, right? Surely you must have seen a lot of students come through here?”
“All dead. Yet the Awakened are the ones that keep coming back alive,” one man with a scar on his cheek sneered, his hand resting on his belt. “Think you’re above all of us? Should the academy get everything handed to them on a silver platter? We’ve been fighting and dying too. We got the shit end of the stick. They keep taking my farm boys, training them to hold a pointy stick and charge. I’m lucky if they send bits back enough to bury.”
She smiled faintly. “I sympathize. But the Academy of Rivilat has the best combat record on the continent. And it’s earned with blood, and lots of sacrifices.” She propped up the drunkard, who was probably still thinking he might be getting lucky.
“But you’re not impressing me. Maybe the monsters make better people than you do.”
The drunk’s face scrunched, and he growled. “Wow, you stupid bitch–”
The grazing hit to her face was one she allowed, her head turning just as his punch sailed by. It still stung when his knuckles scraped her cheek and caught her by the orbital bone.
The entire bar froze as Hadley grinned. “You know, I’m glad you made it easy for me to justify what happens next.”
Hadley gripped her relay so tightly she felt the metal starting to buckle. “Keep yourself alive, Cassia, we’ll fight our way down to meet you!”
Panic would not ensue, as she fired off an incendiary arrow that airburst taking out three wasps. The buzzing targets might be small, but in these close quarters, their maneuverability was limited. “Roche, on me! Clear a path in the front, I’ll keep them off your back! Push toward Trevor and Brent! Don’t let these buzzing bastards past your guard!”
She had several vials of Neska’s antivenom. She didn’t know how long each dose would work, but she had this feeling they’d be making use of them.
“Hang on then!” Roche activated his bulwark shield, the barrier flaring with an angry orange color as he pushed forward, bashing wasps into green paste. Hadley shot more incendiary arrows, utilizing her skills to make them even more effective.
[Piercing Shot] would have been, by most accounts, a rather mundane ability. It made an arrow or other projectile penetrate a target and continue on its path, losing little momentum. It could be stopped by heavy armor or thick monster carapaces, scales, or comparable defenses. Certain other Abilities could counter her [Piercing Shot], but it also had another, rather interesting upgrade that triggered as it pierced one wasp, detonating in a plume of fire and smoke.
Each pierced target would activate any ability already imbued on an arrow, whether enchanted by runic magic or by alchemical effects, duplicating the effect. In Neska’s case, she’d imbued dozens and dozens of arrows with her incendiary-infused venom and other alchemical concoctions, like the sleeping draught.
She tried to fight the grim smile that emerged as the shot pierced and detonated three separate times on the wasps lined up in close quarters, creating three blasts that shrapnelled the insects nearby.
Even with the multiple targets down, the experience gain was modest, at best. She drew back another arrow and fired, with the [Piercing shot] doing a lot of extra work for her.
“Save some for me back there!” Roche protested, laughing as he smushed a wasp between the wall and his shield. The body smeared and collapsed to the floor. Larger wasps were starting to appear, the ones with the sharp talons for legs. Hadley kept him going forward, directing him down the tunnel as she tracked Brent’s scent.
“Left tunnel, then a right!” she barked out. Brent still had numerous targets on his tail and was still fighting, along with muted magical crackles from Trevor getting his share of experience in combat now.
Thirty seconds later, they reconvened in a chamber intersecting three different paths, Brent bloodied but alert, and stabbing himself with an injector filled with Neska’s antivenom. He gripped his furry forearm, muzzle clenched, and gave a weak wave to Hadley as she took her light blade and finished off a grounded wasp.
“Heads up, that taloned ones have venom on their legs. It hurts like a son of a bitch,” he growled. His hand stopped shaking, and he flexed his bicep gently. “Glad to see the wasps didn’t carry you away, Corporal,” he grinned.
“Brent, I didn’t need protecting!” Trevor huffed, disheveled and looking pale. He was mana exhausted, and already tipping back a mana potion. “Corporal, where’s Cassia?”
“She fell into the pit, but she’s alive,” she relayed. “We’re fighting our way down to her; there’s too much of the swarm between her and us. Brent, you and me, on point. We've got a lamia to provide backup to."
And a vow to fulfil. They're never fighting this fight alone again.
The buzzing monsters never let up. Evenin a tight formation, they threatened to get past each other's guard. Hadley was glad to have Roche and Brent along who could take the hits, and Trevor was able to provide fire support. They all held up well.
Several distant explosions could be heard, dust drifting down. By the feel of the ground shaking under them Hadley tapped her relay. "Cassia, was that you blowing something up, or did you swallow bombs technique spectacularly backfire?"
No response.
Brent grunted, digging a stinger out. "You know, it was several small booms. If it was our lamia suffering a mishap, it would be one big boom. Just saying."
"Swallowing bombs. She's insane," Trevor groaned.
"And that was better than carrying them around, without the safety of an inert dimensional space," Hadley pointed out. "Look, even as crazy as some of her ideas are, they usually work out."
"Swallowing bombs. I think that bears repeating!" Trevor huffed. "Brent, antivenom?"
"Save it for a tough fight. My regen is enough to counter it in small doses. Hurts like a bitch though."
Hadley clicked the relay. "Please be okay, Cassia," she whispered.
"Sorry. I had some problems to deal with. A few hobgoblins chose to explode rather than run."
Hadley let out a triumphant roar. "Yeah, Ne--i mean uh, Cassia, that's the way to do it!" she hastily corrected. Damn, it was hard to keep that straight. "Are you hurt? Did you see the other teams?"
"No. Nothing but dead bugs and uh... yeah. Hobgoblins are even grosser than dead bugs. I'm somewhere in-the mid level. This place is roughly an inverted cone, and hatcheries are clustered towards the center and bottom. The queen must be at the base."
"Jurik here. Finally got a damn signal," the veteran's voice crackled over the relay. "Hadley, Cassia, Corvin's team was ambushed. Two of their members are missing, Kasfew and Noricatu. They fought off some fiery wasp thing that came from below, but were separated by the swarm. I'm doubling back to assist Corvin. Keep an eye out for them, if you can!"
"I thought I heard something further ahead. That could be them. Signal is unreliable," Neska said over the relay. "Keep pushing toward us. We'll need the full team for the final attack."
"Stay alive, everyone," Jurik said firmly.
“Like we'd ever leave anyone behind. " Let's get going, Corporal,” Brent scratched his head, then tilted his head. “Hey, uh, that reminds me. Why did you call her Neska earlier, by the way?”
Hadley froze as she realized what she’d let slip in the moment before Neska fell.
Oh, god damn it.