Penitent-Chapter 31: Reconciliation

The next day Michael was sent straight to Dugan after breakfast. He found that he was nervous seeing the dwarf after all that had happened. He and Meera were the only two natives whose opinion actually mattered to him. He approached the quartermaster’s office and went to the desk, knocking on it twice to get the old dwarf’s attention.

There was the sound of movement inside and the scrape of a stool being dragged across the ground, then Dugan appeared back at the top, his beard brushing some dust from counter as he did so.

“What’re you doing out here? Come on back, we have a lot of work to catch up on from the exercise and the other students that help me are worthless.”

Michael smiled, “I’ll come right in.”

He went inside, and Dugan immediately pressed a half dozen tasks onto him. Forms to fill out, armor to polish, swords to inspect, and a large amount of dry goods to sort. Dugan brought up nothing about what had happened the last few weeks, instead focusing on work, and even answering the usual random questions Michael would ask him throughout the day.

“Why isn’t everything more magical?”

Dugan gave him a look he’d grown used to, eyebrows raised and a frown as he looked up at him.

“I mean, I’ve been told there are dragons here, magical beasts. I’ve met you obviously, I see lights lit by magic, see spells practiced, and have even started to notice a few recruits with slightly pointed ears and wide eyes, but I thought I’d see… I don’t know, more of those kinds of things.”

“Stent doesn’t like those things. They have them hunted, killed, or driven away. In Tusinia or Svict you’d see goblins by the roads, kelpie’s trying to drown kids in lakes, or even the crawling skeleton of something long dead brought back by musclelike fungus. Here the Militias in every town eradicate them whenever they can and during peacetime or truces the entire military devotes itself to removing anything they feel may be a… distraction. The lack of those things is one of the reasons I choose to live here,” said Dugan, returning his attention to his paperwork as he spoke. “Some of those things are good enough. The bad ones don’t make it worth dealing with the good though.”

Michael could understand that perspective. He would find all of those things interesting to encounter, but to a local they amounted to pests. Pests that could kill you and eat your corpse. He returned his attention to the sword he was working, finding a gruesome chip at it’s edge.

“What about magical metals, anything like that here?”

Dugan shrugged. “There are a number of weapons, armor, and shields that have gained titles. They tend to be stronger, and sharper by default even if that’s not what the title specifically grants them.” He paused, scratching his beard. “Back home in the mountains sometimes we’d find veins of metal that didn’t exist anywhere else. Small deposits that would glow with fire, or feel like ice that didn’t melt. They had no match, and their properties were always unique… Usually they get scooped up by some dwarven king or noble. A few have made their way to the surface though, I’m sure.” He shook his head as if needing to physically shake himself from a daydream. “Enough questions. I want to get as much of this done today as possible.”

Michael sighed and got back to work, eyeing the hundred or so more swords he needed to get to.

…

Michael spent the rest of the week getting back into the groove of things. He’d spend his morning healing at the infirmary, practice divining with Meera, and then he’d spend at least two hours with Dugan, helping the quartermaster to inventory, file, and distribute supplies as needed. The afternoons were back to physical conditioning, archery, and then weapons training. Horsemanship had taken a pause for obvious reasons while a new instructor was located. Michael noticed during interactions with the regular recruits that things had grown more terse, more unfriendly. Those who’d given him a pass due to his healing them or their friends were more likely to try and start trouble. During some mixed sparring with the regular recruits, a number of them began going for his face or groin with their strikes. Desdin hadn’t been well liked, but there were a number of recruits that seemed to favor him, or were looking for another excuse for violence. He noticed his new deed, Revenge Denier, activating the first time it happened.

He was in a mixed sparring exercise with the regular recruits. The weapon was spears, which amounted to staffs with a blunted metal tip. The moment he was told to stand across from a young dark haired recruit, his senses seemed to sharpen. He could smell the sweat in the air, feel a very slight breeze he hadn’t felt only a moment before, he could see small motions his opponent was making, and even hear a conversation going on amidst all the grunting and cries of fighting around him. He was so distracted by it, that he barely noticed when the match began.

His opponent dropped the head of the spear and thrust it quickly toward his face. It seemed slower than it should’ve been. Not as if it was in slow motion or anything like that, rather as if he was moving at the speed they’d do for a light spar rather than full contact.

Michael snaked his head to the side to avoid it, then batted the recruits spear away with his own before smacking the side of it onto his head. The recruit quickly rallied and tried to sweep Michaels legs, but again it seemed slow and he was able to leap over it before kicking dust into the boy’s eyes and jamming the weighted end of his staff into his shoulder, causing him to lose balance. He won that round, and the next several against that particular opponent, but in all of his matches with his friends, or other Takers everything was normal.

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The only normal recruit that seemed unaffected by what Michael had done to Desdin was Lance. He stopped to greet Michael whenever they ran into one another, and even exchanged a joke or some small-talk whenever they passed on another. He was friendly with Pytor, Davi, and Ollie as well, though not beyond a simple nod and hello. Michael imagined he was thankful for how useful they’d been during the exercise, and how he’d healed his leg. When he’d done that, he’d seen a bit of Lance that he didn’t seem eager to share with everyone else. In general he seemed to be charismatic and friendly, a natural leader, but Michael had seen his interaction with his father, a time when he was vulnerable and weak.

He was thinking of this and looking at him practice with a lance as the Takers were heading to the cafeteria. Titles and Deeds appeared suddenly in front of him.

Titles:

Lance Kreg

Heir to Solda

Heir to Vym

Heir to Lomar

Deeds:

Victor of the Festival of Blades Joust

Wyvern Slayer

The Victor in Black

Along with information he hadn’t been able to see before.

Heir to Solda

Grants:

Middling Strength

Middling Durability

When in Solda these change to Major

Heir to Vym

Grants:

Middling Speed

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Minor Awareness

When in Vym these change to Major and Middling

Heir to Lomar

Grants:

Minor Reaction

MInor Recovery

When in Lomar these change to Middling

The Deeds flashed in his vision too, but he couldn’t process all of the information quickly enough, and felt a hand on his back. He turned to see Pyotr looking at him concerned.

“Does seeing the horses upset you?” he asked quietly.

“Because I killed a man that taught us to ride?”

“No, because you know you’ll never have a manhood like theirs.”

Michael sighed sadly. “You’re exactly right. It’s truly hell to know I’ll never match up.”

Pyotr nodded sagely, rubbing the beginning of a beard on his face. “As a fellow old man, I’d like to say I’m above such things, but unfortunately there are some things we never grow out of.”

They shared a chuckle, and Michael paid more attention to what he was doing as they walked the rest of the way to the cafeteria. That was the first time he’d been able to divine more than the basic list of titles and deeds someone else had. He’d expected the first time would be when observing Ollie, or one of the others in their small clique, but he supposed it was easier to empathize and understand someone so young with so little life lived. His friends were by default more complex by nature of having lived far more life than the regular recruits not to mention the added complexity of living a second life.

Lance’s titles and deeds and what they granted answered a number of questions he’d had. He had wondered what his ‘heir’ titles granted since he first saw them and it appeared just being the inheritor of land gave significant bonuses to an individual's strength and abilities. He’d already known that power flowed in this world from the top down, but to see that even a general’s son got so many advantages by default showed just how skewed power could be. If someone is born with that many advantages, they also have a greater ability to earn deeds, and even be granted more titles by their kings or the system.

The fact that he hadn’t heard of any political system other than monarchy since he’d arrived was making a lot more sense now that he knew just how powerful the abilities that were granted by the right bloodline could be. Hard to revolt against that kind of power. He wondered if any kings actually took to the field themselves if they were so powerful. They could likely turn the tide of a battle alone, though from what he could tell they still preferred to send others to do their fighting for them. Made sense, a well placed arrow, fireball, or blade could probably still end them.

After dinner the final rankings for the week were revealed. Michael had once again taken first in physical conditioning, but his archery was now the lowest of everyone else. The bows he’d been given weren’t strung correctly, or his hits were counted as missed. He was fairly certain Kline was aware of it, but didn’t care because Michael’s archery skills were toward the bottom anyway.

After that they all went to the barracks to clean up and rest. When Michael dressed and made it toward his bunk, he saw Marcus sitting in his own bunk, seemingly waiting for him.

Michael walked toward him, and Pyotr, Ollie, and Davi moved to be near or between them.

Marcus stood up and stepped past them toward Michael. He looked a little wan, but not too much worse for wear.

“I was in the woods following the moderator that was dead. I didn’t want to kill him, I just wanted to hurt him. I don’t know why, it was like all my blood was in my dick all the time. I could only think of Crim, and any other woman I saw. I had no control over myself. Even not screaming at the slightest inconvenience felt impossible. I tried to cool off by taking flags, but it barely helped. These last two weeks I finally started feeling better. I think she was doing something with those injections she was giving me.”

Michael nodded. “I know. I had the same suspicions and the day you got caned I saw her smiling. I tried to bring it up softly, but I was never able to get through to you."

Marcus shook his head. "I’m sorry man. I shoulda kept myself under control.”

Michael grimaced. "I should've kept myself under control. Yesterday, after she gave me my injection she came onto me and I... I broke her finger."

Marcus raised an eyebrow and the others exchanged glances.

"I healed her and threatened her, but it was stupid. Luckily, we're all done with our injections at least."

Ollie coughed, "Not uh... all of us."

Michael frowned and brought a hand to his face. "Fuck. I'm an idiot."

"You are, but I can't blame you. Fuck her."

"I wasn't going to bring it up to Kline, but maybe-"

"Don't," said Davi shaking his head. "Once the accusations go flying we know how things will land."

"I'll be okay, it's not like she can kill me. I only have a few injections left, I'll make sure the medics are there before I go and I'll watch her carefully." He shook his head, smiling. "It's worth the risk to not be stuck at five foot nothing anyway."

Michael chuckled, but sighed afterward. "Thank you for giving me grace," he said to Ollie, then looked at Marcus, "both of you. I should've had more myself."

Marcus nodded, a little awkwardly, and looked around at the rest of them. “So, did I miss anything else?”

“Michael killed a guy,” said Ollie.

“What?”

Michael gave a quick and dirty description of what had happened, then the others started describing what had happened on their end at the end of the exercise. Michael found himself drawn away, toward the barred windows. The light seemed strange. He looked outside, but saw no other light sources, then tilted his head upward. The moons in the sky, all three of them, were perfect crescents, one green, one silver, one gold all giving off an amber tinted light.