[url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/246624086/0/0]Table of Contents[/url] Derik lay on his back, staring up into the night sky. A thick layer of clouds concealed the stars, but he could still faintly see snowflakes drifting down between the trees. Some landed on his face, and he scrubbed them off with the back of his wrist. “I wouldn’t be nappin’ if I were you,” a gruff voice commented. Derik turned his head to look at the man sitting next to him. His name was Geralt: a rather unfriendly man from a town in Rotan’s sector called Tanra, with a hard-set face and a notable lack of people skills. “Traveler knows you sure could use one,” a woman retorted slyly. Her name was Irene, and she was from Lager Olgi, one of Daedalus’ towns. She had made a point of getting everyone sitting near her during the road trip to introduce themselves, and hadn’t given them any choice but to sit with her now that the procession had stopped. “We’re supposed to be quiet,” another man interjected. Ibis wasn’t a talkative man, but he managed to carry himself with enough authority to silence the group. It was the first thing he had said since stating his own name and that of his hometown, Mertvy. “Right,” the man to Derik’s right agreed with Ibis. His name was Willis, and he was a remarkably small and thin man. He was also from Mertvy, and had described it as the outskirts of a ruined Golden Age city. Willis was cheerful, extroverted, and apparently followed a pre-Golden Age religion. “Remind me why we’re bein’ quiet?” Geralt muttered. “Same reason we stopped,” Irene said, “We’re close to one o’ Queen Natalia’s towns. What was it-“ “Pinton,” Derik answered, anticipating her question. “So why all the quiet?” Geralt grumbled, as if they were fools for not understanding, “Why ‘ave we been rottin’ ‘ere all night while that tin can prances around in the trees?” “Because,” Saul hissed, “If the people in Pinton hear us or the motors runnin’, we’ll lose the element o’ surprise. Lady Avery is out there killin’ the guards, doin’ the dangerous work for us.” Geralt glared at him, “Honestly, I’m surprised a Warlord-lover like you has enough brain cells to think o’ that.” “Lady Avery’s the best Warlord you’ll ever see!” Saul snapped back. “Only good Warlord’s a dead Warlord,” Ibis sighed. Irene put a finger to her lips to shush them, and Derik did the same. “Now, now-“ Willis began. “Amen,” Geralt applauded, “May the Light strike them all down.” “Listen here,” Saul bristled, “You-“ He gasped and fell flat on his face. Less than a second passed before Geralt did the same, trying to remove the boot planted firmly on his back. “Shut the hell up!” The owner of the boot growled, sweeping his rifle to point at all of them. It was one of Daedalus’ gunmen. One of Avery’s stood behind Saul, and she was equally upset, “Still o’ night, I could hear you idiots yammerin’ a mile away! Be glad I don’t put a knife in your throats.” Having made their point, the guards walked away. Geralt and Saul picked themselves up and brushed snow and dirt off of their coats. “You‘ve got different opinions,” Willis whispered, “But that isn’t worth arguin’ over.” “Keep a lid on it,” Irene advised. “Best Warlord,” Geralt scoffed under his breath, “Tanra’s been under e’ery bloody Warlord. Best don’t mean good.” “Hey,” Derik soothed, “We’re tryin’ to make peace, not get ourselves stabbed in the throat, remember? We can at least agree on that.” Some of the others chuckled at that. Even Geralt cracked a smile. Irene put a hand to her mouth and giggled, “Did she mean one knife in all of our throats at once, or what?” It was a morbid joke, and bloody scenes flashed through Derik’s mind, but the awkward image of all of them pressing their necks together was comical enough to overshadow the worse thoughts. They all stifled their laughter and glanced over to the guards. When they had calmed down, Derik looked to the tractors, which sat dormant at the edge of sight through the trees. “It’s been a few hours, hasn’t it?” He asked, “When will we-“ “ALRIGHT!” Someone shouted, piercing through the frigid air, “Lady Avery just radioed in! Pinton is ours! Load up, we’re movin’ out!” • • • The villagers didn’t seem to know what to do with themselves. Some were locked in their houses, peering through windows, while others stood in the road. Some looked angry, some sad, some undecided, but all were clearly terrified. They didn’t know what had happened, what was happening, or what would happen. Daedalus was at the front of the column, leading the small army out of the woods and into Pinton. Derik stayed at the edge of the group, working his way past the others and closer to the Warlord. He tried not to make eye contact with the townsfolk pressed against the walls of their homes. Daedalus stopped in a plaza that seemed to mark the town’s center, and Derik squeezed around one of his guards to get a better view. Avery stood in front of a large building on the other side, accompanied by some of her own gunmen and Daedalus’. The two Warlords walked towards each other and met in the center of the square. Their guards followed them, and Derik shadowed the escort. “I see no one was hurt,” Daedalus observed, “Well done.” Avery didn’t acknowledge the compliment and went straight to business, “There were four armed men. All dead. There may be more who stayed hidden. I want to question the elders for the names of any remaining loyalists, then comb the houses.” “I’ll get to that, then,” Daedalus exhaled, “Who will we leave to-“ “That won’t be necessary,” Avery said, “I radioed Hilton. Alan will bring in the jumpship with reserves to protect the ground we take.” Daedalus tilted his head doubtfully, “We won’t be leavin’ Empyrea exposed, will we?” “I won’t leave any town unattended,” Avery promised, “And even with only two gunmen no one would realize Empyrea was vulnerable.” “Fair enough,” Daedalus sighed. “Alan will bring fresh supplies as well,” Avery continued. Derik shifted and her eyes darted to him, piercing through his skull. She looked back to Daedalus and kept talking without missing a beat, “Brenon, please escort Magnate back to his place. We can also take rations from the food stores here. Between those and what we take as we go, food shouldn’t be too much of a problem.” Brenon came up next to Derik and rested a hand on his shoulder, leading the outsider back to the waiting army. “I’ll be careful not to take too much,” Daedalus decided, “Last thing we need is to make these people starve an’ hate us.” “Ammunition may become an issue once the...” Avery’s voice faded out of hearing as the distance between them grew. Halfway across the open space, Brenon stopped. “Don’t worry about what they’re doin’, Derik,” he advised, “Just keep your head down an’ try to stay away from the action. I’ll take care o’ the rest. Alright?” “Alright,” Derik echoed, reaching for a handshake. The scout’s hand was slick and wet, making it hard to grip. “Light!” Brenon cursed under his breath, slipping his hand out from Derik’s grasp as if it were covered in soap. “Wha-“ Derik started, looking down. Streaks of metallic red liquid ran from his wrist to his fingers, reflecting the dim light from the nearby lampposts. Brenon quickly snatched up the end of his cloak, grabbing Derik’s outstretched hand and wrapping it in the cloth. Derik retracted his hand. “Is this blood?” He asked. Brenon let out a long breath and nodded, “Yeah.” He held up his hands, coated in drying blood, “We had to kill ‘em quiet, then move the bodies. It was…messy. Hasn’t dried all the way quite yet.” Derik stared at his hand. “Let me get that,” Brenon offered, bringing up his cloak again. Derik let him rub off the blood. When he was done, some of the skin was still stained red. “Hold on,” Brenon said, bringing the cloth up and cleaning the shoulder he had touched before. Then he bundled up his own hands and apologized, “Sorry, Derik. But this is what you signed up for. An’ the war’s only gettin’ started. You might do your own killin’ soon.” He let his bloodstained cloak drop back behind him, “There’s gonna be a lot o’ blood. A lot o’ dead people. Don’t focus on that, okay? Don’t think about it. Just focus on stayin’ alive.” Derik swallowed and nodded. “Good,” Brenon approved, turning Derik around to face the waiting army, “Trust me, I’ve been doin’ this a long time. We’re all in it together, an’ we’re all gonna have to live with it.”