Chapter 76: Chapter 69: The Price of Complacency

Day 24: Early morning.

Keon shuddered, trying to overcome the splitting, pounding pain that threatened to split his brain in two. He heard voices, but they came as a din, and no matter how hard he blinked, only murky shadows filled his crimson-stained vision. He tried to stand and found ropes biting into his arms and legs, securing him tightly to a wooden frame.

What… What had happened? Keon concentrated on his memories. He and Emily decided to visit a movie theater and stumbled upon a crowd in a dark alley. A man invited him for a ride, but Keon declined. Then a multicolored flash devoured everything as a bat connected to his head and Emily... What happened to her?

“Where is she?” A whisper escaped his lips, and Keon’s leg touched a wet, hairy broom. Why was there a broom on the floor? He didn’t understand.

“Wakey, wakey, shitstain.” A finger snap in front of his nose sent another surge of agony through his head. It was torture just to see anything, let alone concentrate on anything. “Time to rise and shine.”

“I didn’t ask you to open his head, Raffy,” said a cold voice, and another shape appeared before Keon. It sounded familiar.

“A minor inconvenience,” the first voice responded mockingly. “What matters is that he is here, right, boss?” Even through his confusion, Keon heard the sheer venom in the man’s words. “It wasn’t all bad, you had to admit. We even started to settle the score for what those barbarians did to my men.”

“Layman. Go on, play your succession game, and leave us.” Gentle hands touched Keon’s face, lifting it, and a soft cloth cleaned his inflamed skin. A bottle was pressed to his swollen lips, and the soldier drank hungrily. “Apologies, Keon.”

“Who… are you?” the soldier asked in a hoarse voice, spitting out teeth.

“A kindred soul, cruelly torn from its homeland. Like you, I have witnessed my country vanish in conquest,” the figure said in a soft, sad voice. “The homes we grew up in are gone or abandoned, the streets where we had our first kisses are buried under the sand, and our friends and family are scattered everywhere. Our cultures, our languages, our very identities are on the verge of disappearing. And for what? So that the Reclamation Army can say ‘Mission Accomplished’ as it chokes down another helpless nation?” the speaker spat. “You and I have been given a unique opportunity. Fate has maneuvered us into a position where we can do great harm to the Reclamation Army and possibly cripple this colossus. The salvation of our way of life has slipped from our grasp, but vengeance is within our grasp.”

The speaker cleaned Keon’s wounds, wiped the blood from his swollen eyebrows, injected medicine around his cracked cranium, and bandaged the gaping gash in his head.

“Revenge?” Keon managed to ask. Images of toxic waste and towering blocks of stone, erected on the orders of Techno Queen and the lifeless land, flashed through his mind. “How are you going to do that?”

“For every force, there is a counterforce. We will use a beast to wound another. The details will be revealed to you if you join us, Keon.”

“What will it solve?”

“It will bring justice to the dead,” the voice insisted. “Do you mean to tell me you have not lost a friend, a loved one, or a family member to the war that was forced upon you? The Dynast is merely another warmonger masquerading as a liberator. By his actions, you can judge his true nature. Was your country perfect? I doubt it. None is. Did it deserve to die?”

“Die? No,” Keon said, regaining his will. “It did not deserve to perish, nor is it dead. The land is not a place or a stone, nor is it a language or a culture. It is people, and they live on, carrying their dreams and finding their purpose in the lands of the Reclamation Army. You say the Dynast is a warmonger. I cannot deny that. I will go further and say that the man is a monster. Only the ultimate monster can bind beings like Commanders Ravager and Devourer to his will.”

“Then you see him for what he is! He and that cursed serpent throw entire nations into their melting pot to boil until every shred of individuality and uniqueness is lost.…”

“There is merit to your words. The Dynast is a monster that devours the worst monsters,” Keon interrupted the speaker, shaking off the last of the dizziness. He expected to whimper and beg for mercy, but strangely, fear no longer gripped his heart. “He is also the chainbreaker, the liberator, the builder, and the unifier. Perhaps he deserves a bullet for all that is done under his command. I am not a philosopher or a judge; all I know is that my people found a second chance under his leadership and that my loyalty is to him and the Third. To take revenge on the Reclamation Army is to harm my own countrymen and the woman I love. I refuse.”

“Such foolishness,” the voice said, giving Keon more water. “You are so blinded by propaganda that you are deaf to the cries of the innocent lives lost in conquest. Keon, I do not want to harm you, but I must tend to the bigger picture. So many countries exist in the world, big and small, and every single one of them is under a threat as long as the Reclamation Army exists. Perhaps if we had extracted you more carefully, if I had more time to explain to you… But today is an important day and I have little time. Go to your woman, Keon.”

To your woman? The realization sent a shiver down his spine. Keon whimpered, mourning not for himself but for the dear soul who had accepted him and beside whose warm body he had shared nights dreaming of the future, planning their retirement and one day returning to Houstad. He tore at the restraints, understanding that it wasn’t the broom next to his leg, and a gun was forced into his mouth.

A shot pierced his brain, and Keon, a man who had traveled so far to see the Core Lands, saw nothing more in his life.

****

Day 24: Midday.

“Sorry for the blunder we have caused.” Janine stood at attention and the mayor motioned for her to sit in an armchair.

Jaquan’s office was not what she had expected. She thought it would be drowning in opulence, as magnificent as the ancient building itself. But once Janine passed through the massive stone columns and took the elevator to the fifth floor, she entered a plain white office with a vast window behind the mayor’s desk that looked out onto the crowded plaza. Wooden bookcases lined the walls, and a single picture of the Three Great Commanders dominated the left wall. Next to it was a detailed map of Houstad, casually marked in several places.

The mayor’s leather-upholstered chair seemed a bit too rough, and Janine knew the morbid reason behind it. One of Houtstad’s first mayors was caught embezzling funds from the city budget. The Dynast made an example of her by turning the woman’s remains into an eternal reminder for all future servants.

“I do not think we should be dwelling on this event,” said Schalk, offering an oversized glass of wine to Janine. “Several thugs died, boo-hoo. Who’s going to cry about that? Should we really bother the mighty berserker who stalled Blood Graf with such trifles?”

“I didn’t halt him at all.” Janine shook his head. “He crushed me in a single blow.”

“Schalk, stop licking boots of your superiors and act your rank,” Jacomie ordered, sitting sourly on a sofa. “Kids saw guts spilling on the floor. That is no way for soldiers to behave in the Core Lands.”

Janine nodded in agreement. There have been many misunderstandings over the past few days. Upon getting a leave, dozens of black-furred bodies charged across the streets, crept under the bridges, climbed on the roofs, sniffed everything they could and left marks for future groups. The police had to physically stop a wolf hag from scent-marking the statue of Devourer in the park. Janine herself had to calm the distraught woman, who was ready to offer her head to atone for the shame. Soon, another mishap occurred.

Her cubs and the soldiers of the Ygrite pack were involved in a bank robbery. The standard protocol for such an event was to surrender and let the police handle things, who often captured the criminals without firing a shot. To her great shame, no one explained such a tradition to the Wolfkins, and they reacted naturally. The news sang praises, elevating Kirk to the status of a national hero for saving a cub, and by the Spirits he deserved every ounce of glory. But Janine suspected that hearing the gurgling of the dying and the desperate pleas for mercy had disrupted the sleep of many civilians present on the scene.

Their problems weren’t over there. Impatient One initiated a bout at the police station, seeking to cheer up her sister. The two woke up in a different cell to a police therapist, who quickly became concerned after inquiring about the sisters’ childhood and the reason for their intense aggression.

One problem followed another. Janine was burning with shame and worried sick about her girls when the news of Alpha’s arrest reached her. She still had no idea what exactly had driven the strongest warlord into such an unusual fit of rage. It happened during the celebration of Kirk’s bravery. The party soon grew into the base-wide explosion of fun and debauchery that came to an abrupt halt at Dragena’s and Alpha’s arrival. Alpha nearly caved in Ygrite’s skull in front of the shocked state’s journalists and kept beating her until Captain Cristobo arrived.

The police had to get involved, but Ygrite, of course, chose not to press charges. Janine still did not know what this all was about, but Dragena now never left Ygrite’s side, and the weakest warlord sat down and wrote several reports, resulting in Chak’s complaining about a sudden obscene amount of work dropped at him. Alpha was taken to the state’s jail and spent her time discipling local druggies and alcoholics into changing their ways or dying at her claws.

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“Come on, ma’am,” Schalk said. “The city will be cleaner without some trash littering the streets.”

“Regardless, we should have known better,” Janine quickly interjected before the lieutenant could speak. “On behalf of the Wolf Tribe, I offer our sincerest apologies. Should you ask for a blood price…”

“I will hear none of it.” The mayor slammed a hand onto the table. “Warlord, I understand that savagery is a way of life in the north, but here we act as civilized people. Your soldiers…”

“Not all of them are under my command. Alpha is....”

“Irrelevant. They will do community service under the supervision of Sword Saint Tancred Ironwill, who has taken on the role of protector of the city. Not that there is much to protect against, but they can clean streets and serve in soup kitchens…”

“Fur,” Jacomie said angrily.

“Yes, right,” the mayor allowed himself a smile. “Well, we’ll find something for them to do,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Why can’t your kind be normal like Ice Fangs? Your cousins have already mostly left the city, checking on their fiefdoms and schools, spreading their majesty everywhere. And your kind seclude themselves and act like barbarians.”

“We are the barbarians,” Janine reminded him.

“But you don’t have to be! I have received a report that six of your kind have visited the therapy clinic. Six! Out of thousands!” The mayor pressed his hands together. “Our mental institutions are a far cry from those in Iterna, but they can aid your people in overcoming traumas. You may feign a strong façade…”

“I will not,” Janine said, remembering Colt. “There are times when even we need help.”

Therapists, or soothsayers, as the tribe called them, were a constant source of contention among the shamans. Soulless One believed that their interruption softened the warriors, creating a potential risk for greater casualties. Other shamans calmly pointed out the clear improvement in the souls of those who had dared to visit the strange mind fixers. Janine had no strong opinion about the matter. She once stumbled upon Kalaisa’s and Anji’s joint exercise, where two wolf hags skated down the street, falling, getting up, and learning from each other. Then the two played chess. It was a beneficial exercise in bonding, but try as she might, the warlord could not understand how it helped with Kalaisa’s aggression.

“And we want to help!” Jaquan put a hand to his chest. “Trust me when I say it; I want to see your people integrated into the Reclamation Army at large to see your children attend schools and universities. The state is willing to spare no expense, and the Wolfkins are not inherently inimical to a peaceful life. Cinemas, theaters, markets, and stores—are all open for you, and my heart sings when I see Wolfkins visit them.” Jaquan shook his head. “But so few do it. It’s as if you don’t want to live in a world you helped create and would rather wage pointless wars.”

“Pointless? Elaborate.” Janine demanded, quenching her anger before a growl could escape her lips.

“Take your last conquest. This Tecno-Queen. What have we won?” Jaquan met Janine’s eyes. “A fat nothing. The land that can’t be used, we got thousands of new mouths to feed, lost loyal soldiers during the conquest, and your own tribe ended up being bled dry on the campaign.”

“We stopped Techno-Queen…”

“Don’t give me that crap,” Jacomie sneered. “I’ve read the reports and spoke with the captain. She ruined her own country. It was only a matter of time before it became a necropolis sticking out like a sore thumb in the Wastes. And we just walked into a hornet’s nest and got our asses red. Death is all you brought home.”

“And lives,” the warlord rebuked her. “You are wrong, Lieutenant. Had we waited, hundreds of cubs would have died…”

“Matters of another country…”

“Don’t interrupt me ever again, Jacomie.” Janine stood up over the soldier. Her sudden move caused an unusual sensation, as if unseen eyes were hardening and examining her back. She ignored it; no doubt the mayor had his own defenses. “The Dynast’s will is clear. All are to be united under his banner. And we can’t do that if these people are dead. Even if you don’t care about lives, think of the danger. Techno-Queen wasn’t some crazed ruler or politician we can ignore. No, she was an evolving threat that desolated a country. By eliminating her, we may have spared our own country from a future invasion.”

“Again with the same argument,” the mayor groaned. “Warlord. I deeply respect the Third’s action. But look at Houstad.” He gestured to the window. “For all our splendor and glory, we still have people living in slums or on the streets and migrants huddling in barracks. There is a clear shortage of available housing. Yet two quarters of our annual budget goes to support the armies. Two quarters! Can you imagine what we could have done with those resources?” A light came into his eyes. “Renovation of run-down neighborhoods, orphanages to house war victims, new factories to create jobs, and, of course, the construction segment! Rather than saving others, we should first solidify our own industrial base. Teachers, doctors, specialists ready to solve every hurdle the Wastes and the Ravaged Lands may face…”

“Those who don’t feed their own army are bound to feed the army of another nation,” Schalk recited an ancient proverb.

“Rubbish.” Jacomie tapped on the sofa, getting Janine’s attention. “You spoke plainly; let me return the favor. These rumors of invasions from afar? They are nothing but fear-mongering to keep our war machine going, to make people like you feel needed and heroic.”

“I disagree with this assessment. You are not fully understanding what you are talking about. The danger is real. The Core Lands were invaded in the past,” Janine replied, keeping her cool. There was an honesty in Jacomie that she respected. Of course, the woman was clearly misguided in her views.

“And we crushed the invaders! We, the Provincial Army, did all the heavy lifting while our armies conquered elsewhere.” The lieutenant’s fist clenched. “And I know what I am talking about, Warlord. My tribe were peaceful people who lived their own lives…”

“Ma’am, please…” Schalk tried to stop her.

“And you know what happened?” The woman ignored him. “One day the Second Army showed up, smashing our gates and shooting everywhere.” She stood up, pointing at her waxy skin covered by scars. “I was six years old back then. Black-skinned. My mother tried to carry me away when a building near us caught a flaming bomb. The conquerors dragged us to the Outer Lands and declared us civilized. As if we weren’t! And now the language of my tribe and our traditions exist only in museums and…”

“Jacomie. Enough,” the mayor asked, but Janine raised her paw, requesting a word.

She bowed to Jacomie, showing the back of her neck.

“I am deeply sorry for what has happened to you and your tribe.”

Janine meant that. To lose one’s identity was unthinkable. Janine imagined the situation reversed: she dreamed of herself witnessing the fires devouring many tents in her village, soldiers dragging cubs away to be locked in orphanages, adults taken to the re-education camps, their religion dead, and survivors hesitantly searching for a job to feed their cubs, alone and isolated from the rest of their people… No, even though their cause was just, she wished no one to experience that kind of agony.

“Keep your soldiers on a leash, and we are even,” Jacomie forced out a laugh. “It’s all ancient history, anyway. Sorry for getting emotional, Warlord. My point was that there is simply no one outside strong enough to challenge us. Oh, I know of Iterna and the Oathtakers, but let’s be honest, there is no new war brewing. We are allies now. Countries like in the Old World.” She rubbed her forehead. “I am leaving to meet with Cristobo and Maxim. We will be at a shooting range, thinking about how to explain Alpha’s shitshow to the press and how to avoid future incidents.”

“Of course. Janine, we will solve the problems and get your soldiers cleared. Just please inform them not to start a ruckus in the future,” Jaquan asked.

“I swear on my pride,” Janine said.

She spent more times with the man, discussing Houstad’s customs and Jaquan’s plans to ‘civilize’ the Wolf Tribe. The mayor had grand ideas, ranging from moving the entire tribe to the lands east of Houstad, and Janine flatly refused, along with sending her cubs to the schools. Such a decision was simply out of her paws, but she agreed to command six hundred soldiers to attend the evening celebration of the one hundred and sixty-seventh anniversary of the creation of the Core Lands.

Jaquan revealed more of himself in their conversation, explaining that he and the lieutenant were officially members of the Restoration political party, an ever-growing movement attempting to persuade the Dynast to cease expansion and turn the state’s attention inward. Their primary goal was the total removal of the distinction between the Outer Lands and the Core Lands, granting every citizen the same privilege of access to universal health care and bringing every settlement up to the standards of the Core Lands. Their short-term goal was to reduce the barbarism of the warring tribes serving the state, and the Wolf Tribe was their current prime target in this pursuit.

“I wish you the best of luck,” Janine said honestly, indulging in tasty morsels known as shrimp. Their juicy insides slid easily down her throat, giving the warlord immense pleasure. “Mind if I take a few for my son…”

“No need. They’ll be on the base’s menu. My gift,” Jaquan said. “I didn’t expect you to show an understanding of our goal.”

“Had I been younger, you’d offend me. Not anymore,” Janine admitted. “I tried my best to convince Marco to try life in the Core Lands, but to no avail.”

“Send the boy to me,” Jaquan offered. “Officially, he’ll be in charge of passing messages to you and working as my secretary. In the meantime, I’ll try to give him a new perspective on things.”

“I will give it a thought,” Janine warmly thanked the man, leaving the office.

“Warlord!” Schalk caught up with her, slipping into the elevator at the last second. Janine had already had to squeeze in to fit, and with another person, it got cramped. “I just wanted to say that Jacomie Bronkhorst is a loyal soldier of the state, despite her harsh words. You can trust her with your life, so please don’t…”

“There was no harm,” Janine grumbled, trying not to smear the man against a wall. “Honesty is appreciated. You told me you and Jacomie were from the same homeland.”

“The same town, actually,” Schalk said. “My father served in the garrison. Got himself killed by an agent of the Second Army prior to the invasion. After the conquest, I decided to follow in his footsteps, minus getting killed, of course.” The man flashed a strained smile. “The lieutenant and I first joined the militia in the Outer Lands before being transferred here as a reward for our service.”

“I am sorry about your home and family,” Janine said softly.

“Well, it’s not like we can change the past, right? We must move on and live in the present.” The man shrugged.

A buzz of the terminal distracted the warlord from the dark thoughts.

“Janine, what is it?”

“We have a problem,” Chak said on the other side. “Keon is missing.”

“You sure he didn’t simply overslept?”

“Yes.” Chak’s mandibles produced a click. “Keon is a nice boy, unlike your flea-ridden rabble. Besides, his partner also didn’t report to the morning training either.”

“Tell Ashbringer, at once. Have her contact the police and see if he is in jail. I’ll get back to you as soon as we find anything,” Janine switched the channel, raising a finger to halt Schalk’s questions while she called Till Ingo.

“Warlord,” he answered in a calm voice. “I sincerely hope this is important and not a friendly call, as my presence has been requested for the pointless inspection of the power plant and my patience is at an end. Also, Banshee says hi,” he added with a hunt of irritation.

“Good health to her and you. We have a missing soldier. I remember reports that you tried to recruit Keon, a recruit from…”

“I know who it is,” Ingo interrupted her. “He turned down my offer, and no, I don’t know where the boy is. Report to me immediately if you find him, Warlord. Yes, Agent Piam, I am ready…” the researcher cut off the communications.

“Something happened?” Schalk inquired as the elevator stopped at the first floor. Janine stepped out and briefly explained the situation to the sergeant. “Keon, huh?” he whistled. “I remember the boy and the girl; they were in a hurry to ditch us while we escorted the wolf hags to the cinema. Perhaps the lovebirds built themselves a nest and forgot about the time? Ah, the wonders of youth,” he giggled. “I’ll ask around for them; it shouldn’t be hard to find them in one of their usual spots.”

“Thank you, Schalk,” Janine told him.