Orphan at the Edge of the World 21 OEW 20

With less than four hours of daylight left, the group got their first up-close view of the consulate. It was horrifying. The shoddy, half wrecked stone perimeter wall was pocked with burn marks and bloodstains. The sentry on duty had rust spots and other more unpleasant stains on his armor, decked with grizzly trinkets.

A sentry tower and barracks in good repair was all that could be seen of positive features as the actual consulate office and living quarters were little more than a mockery of waste materials in the shape of a two room shanty. Judging by the smell emanating from it, the only reason it existed at all was a cover for the soldier's latrine. From the lack of respect or care for their arrival, combined with the out-house office and quarters, there was no doubt that good times and easy days were a luxury these soldiers had not seen in a while thus not inclines to supply to others.

Ignoring everyone else, the sentry approached Cray and asked, "What happened to Cap, Country?"

Cray look apprehensively at Nadir who nodded his head, then said, "Cap took coin from the wrong hand. Got me n' Spook to try n' kill that mam n' her son. Did you know Spook was a gilly? I mean we all knew Spook was an ash suckin slant-ear but not only was she a gilly not full grown, she was Cap's get, er, daughter."

A look of surprise turned hard again and the sentry said, "Focus Country. Who killed Cap?"

Nadir cut in, "It doesn't matter who. He was a traitor who turned his blade towards The Empire."

The sentry turned to Nadir in anger and sadness in equal measure then said, "When The Empire turned a blind eye, sending cowards and thieves to lord over us, it was Cap who kept us in food and kit. We respected that by not asking where the coin came from..."

As the sentry spilled his grievances, others started filtering out to share theirs as well. By the dossier, there were fifteen active duty and five waiting to return with time served. What stood before them were six relatively whole and in good shape, two heavily scarred but fully functional and another two that were stable but in no shape to soldier who were currently taking turns watching over three who were in various states of dying. After hearing about the last, Orison moved to check on them but was stopped by Droya and Captain Nadir at the same time.

Orison sighed then took a deep breath and bellowed, "I got heals. Whoever might be thinking about shanking me because of Quentus, can I get a death pardon long enough to try and save your wounded!?"

One of the men stink eyeing the group said, "What's a little sh** sniffer like you gonna do for them?"

Cray beat everyone to the punch and said, "He's right good! Took an arrow to the neck and couldn't feel nothing from there down. Tortured me nearly to death and back again twice but I'm right as rain."

Orison said, "I'm only going to ask once more and all it's going to take is one sour word or someone stepping in my path then I say to the Abyss with it and start setting up a pavilion since some kind soul used what was supposed to be my home for a latrine. If you want to turn your nose up at a handful of water in front of you for a river that isn't there, it's no skin off mine."

Within seconds, there was a clear path to the barracks and not a single word spoken directly to him as he stomped his way there.

"I tell you, Hefty. It's like the soul of Stitches raised from the dead to chew our ears again. Feel, I got goosebumps," one soldier said as Orison walked by.

"If those slant eared fish stall girls don't show up again soon, I'll be throwing an empire flag over your head and feeling something else, Mellow," a soldier who could almost pass for a Northlander replied.

As the good-natured squabble got too far behind him to hear, Orison added two new worries to his list. He'd need to be checking for STI's and his mother should never be left alone. His plans to get his mom a maid would have to be reworked too. It wouldn't be good to get a woman out here to keep his mom company just to become a sexual assault victim.

It was bad. Of the three, only one could be put together well enough to soldier and one died despite his best efforts, mostly because he wasn't willing to flash his potions around these men, Cray being the introductory exception who was already warned by both Orison and Nadir to keep his mouth shut. He felt guilty about it but his first priority would always be his own people and these men were not his people. After saving one and patching up another well enough to get him home, the men weren't frosty to Orison but the grudge of losing their 'Cap' wasn't going to disappear easily.

He wanted to rant and rage how he had the right to defend himself, that a man who'd kill a child was nothing to respect but Orison knew better. It didn't help his mood that despite opening a channel for supplies and working day and night to turn the dump of a consul into a livable place with facilities it hadn't properly had in over a year within the first week they were there, the soldiers still heckled and 'cat called' his mother. One even got brave enough to try and pin her to the side of the bathhouse Orison had erected with the help of the golem a day before. The subsequent near-death experience that soldier suffered nearly caused a mutiny on the spot but Captain Nadir managed, by the skin of his teeth, to get things calm again.

The channel opened by Droya with the nearby fishing village was filled with problems. The promised goods would be short or some of the food would be poisoned, diseased or both, nearly every delivery. Droya tried to reach out to the neighboring clans only to find out they had moved, been replaced with a less friendly one or receive no response at all. Even knowing that things would be much better if he could just hang on for less than three weeks, Orison had already been tempted to pack up and leave more than once and after the barely thwarted assault on Droya, she wouldn't have had anything to say about it.

The second night of their second week there. Orison awoke to loud noises and the faint scent of burning. Moments later a shadowy figure had attempted to crawl into Orison's room after breaking the lock bar on the window slats. Fortunately, after a tussle with a soldier who tried to take frustrations out on Rithus, it had left Orison so on edge that he slept the last two nights battle ready. The last thing that figure saw in this world were two angry blue-green glowing eyes and a shimmering blue axe.

After taking a quick peak outside to see that the infiltrators weren't great in number and no signs of a mage, Orison released a golem to target hostiles and stayed with his mom and Rithus. At some point, his faith in Nadir had waned and he wouldn't turn a blind eye to need but didn't really see any reason to care for men who he felt had spit on his good will. He knew that his assessment was biased, that most of the men didn't hold any ill intent, but the ones that didn't hadn't stepped up to help his mother or Rithus either.

Predictably there were injuries that needed attending and even though none had so much as peeked over to see to his or his family's safety during the fight, Nadir was at his door to request his healing assistance. For a moment, the imagined action of punching Nadir in the face felt so real he almost thought he had actually done it. Snapping out of the delusion, Orison grudgingly relented.

As they walked over, Orison said darkly, "While I'm healing your men, do you think you can make sure no one tries to **** my mother or kick Rithus to death?"

Nadir attempted a platitude. "I...I doubt-"

Orison interrupted, "I do too. I doubt you're taking our fear and concerns seriously. I don't care that she kicked his ass. It doesn't change that my mom was assaulted. I don't care that Trash Bag, I mean Hefty, only boxed Rithus in the head a couple times before I knocked him out with a rock. They would have done more if they could get away with it. Don't pretend otherwise."

Fighting to control his own temper, Nadir said, "I'm walking a tightrope here. Until your retinue and my soldiers arrive we need to persevere and aid each other when we can."

With little time left until he'd reach the sick room, Orison finished, "Mom's secured us supplies. Rithus has slowly been improving sanitation and cleanliness for everyone and I don't think you need me to brag about myself... What I want to ask you, and it's a rhetorical question I want you to really think about, is what in the Abyss have you done for us!?"

Orison slammed the door in Nadir's face as he turned around to the startled, sneering and in pain men within. As he started healing the men who needed it, he addressed all of them and individually, when it was their turn. "Here I am to slap some healing again, ungrateful sh**s. Where were you when Hammy pinned my mom against a wall... Where were you, Mellow, when Trash Bag was slapping Rithus around... Cray, I'm not angry at you, man, but I am sorely f***ing disappointed... Hefty, I'll put the arm you used to hurt one of mine back to working order again. But if I don't hear the most sincere f***ing apology I've ever heard in my life, given to Rithus tomorrow, I won't so much as piss on you to put a fire out and you'll forever be Trash Bag to me."

Finished, tired and sorely desiring to look on the only two true friendly faces in this place, Orison turned to leave.

A soldier who'd never made an impression on Orison asked, "What about Hammy?"

Orison turned to look at the soldier who only looked concerned for a friend, nothing more, and sighed. Walking over to Hammy, a nearly stereotypical lanky sleazeball whose daily speech made Venito's wh*ring brags sound angelic, Orison noticed that the man was suffering from a head concussion and a cut that ran across three ribs. It was likely that whatever had cut him had been meant to slide between them instead.

As he cleaned the cut, Orison discovered that Hammy would respond to other's voices but he would ramble his own internal monologues instead of speaking straight. Hammy's friend and the two disabled soldiers who were on speaking terms with the guy, were hovering around to keep Orison 'honest'. Out of curiosity and pragmatism Orison said his mother's name a couple of times at conversational volume. For the first couple of sentences Hammy's words about her were complimentary if a little creepy but then he seemed to get a little angry. He started talking about the things he'd do to her once he got her, the attitude problems that he would 'fix' until she was a 'proper wh*re'.

Orison stood up, obviously uninterested in continuing. Hammy's friend accused Orison of setting Hammy up, that a man with a concussion didn't know what he was saying. Although it wasn't said out loud, the friend and the two disabled soldiers he'd never had a meaningful interaction with, seemed to suggest with body language and veiled words that there might be consequences for not doing all he could for Hammy.

Internally lamenting the loss of materials, gruesome as it was, Orison summoned out the heart of the Ashlander he had killed earlier and set it on Hammy's chest. Using his now bloody hand, he made a print beside it. It was all stage and dramatics but Orison wanted to impress on them that he was vengeful and unforgiving.

For the last touch, Orison intoned, "I won't heal him and I won't harm him with my own hand but I'll see the Dark Matron herself claim him before anyone can force me to dirty myself on this filth another time in this life!"

Fear and anger danced in Hammy's friend's eyes but he didn't stop Orison from leaving. Stopping to cork the last wine bottle with what drained while he was gone, Orison cut the Ashlander's body loose and dragged it over to the others being tossed into the central bonfire. Until that moment, the soldiers had been unaware that a threat had slipped passed them to endanger the three consul inhabitants.

As Orison walked away, Cray muttered a heavyhearted apology as Nadir softly dressed down the other soldiers for their dereliction of duty, his own way of admitting his wrongs. Droya, who was waiting by the door, draped an arm around Orison's shoulder as they entered inside.

Before letting him return to bed, as Rithus left the boy's room with a pink tinged cleaning bucket, Droya asked, "Why did you do that? The Ashlander's body, you didn't cut him up because you were angry, right?"

Orison struggled with a good way to respond before Rithus surprisingly came to his rescue. "This one knows of some things, whispers from others and whispers from the shadow of the home marshes in the bones. The young master tries to protect us with the powers of nature, life and his own strength but is preparing to call upon the shadows cast by life and nature if what he now does is not enough. Lady Mother Droya, this one can tell that if he does, it will not be without good cause. Please be kind to the young master and not ask more."

Nodding at Rithus, Droya sat down and locked soft eyes with Orison, then said, "I know I have been busy writing letters and receiving runners but I will always make time for you. You aren't alone and if I have been forced to admit that I can't hold up the sky for us by myself, know that you don't have to either. We can each take a corner, yes? Now come give me a hug while there's no one around to embarrass you."

Not until that moment, receiving warmth that had been missing for the past few days, did Orison realize just how much the oppressive environment and circumstances had started to wear on him. He didn't have to hold up the whole thing. Rithus held up a little here, Droya a part there and not that far away more were coming. They just had to hold on a little longer.

Chapter end