Born a Monster

247 Servant of the Axe – Logic Does Not Apply

Chapter Type: Conflict (versus others)

They came for us that night, bearing ladders so long that it took four men to carry them. Someone to our right hadn’t waited for the signal, and we were awake. We couldn’t dislodge those heavy ladders, but they were wood. Enough flaming pitch poured on them, and they spread cheer throughout the defenders among the wall.

And then the orders of dumbness arrived.

Orders we could either obey, or be beheaded.

“Who issued these orders?” Peng Gang asked. But the young girl didn’t know, so we went. All the way back down the staircase, through the courtyard and out the gate, where units were forming up into haphazard lines.

“General Mong Tu? Who made that dolt a general?”

“So, we’re heading back inside?” Lian Zhi asked.

“What? Hell, no. Someone in power tells you to march or die, you march. Mong Tu may be an idiot, but he’s still the idiot in charge.”

It turns out that Mong Tu was exactly the idiot who shouldn’t have been in charge of the battle. We started taking arrows early, so archers were ordered to the front. Mong Tu ordered them back, had us all march forward into the incoming fire.

.....

There were elementals and other spirits harassing the left flank, so he had the whole formation rotate that way, and then had us rotate back when the enemy began advancing. Neither problem, the archers nor spirits, had been addressed at this point.



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“Oh, merciful Emperor in heaven!” Lian Zhi said. “At least the arrows have stopped.”

“Squad, right and a quarter face! Get to facing right!” Old Toothless screamed.

Most of us were already looking that way, if only to know when to raise shields to block arrows.

Then the enemy were upon and among us, streaming between the squads that had broken formation to face them, and almost directly over those who hadn’t. The dogs I had mocked just that morning were underfoot, finishing off the fallen.

When our archers came into play, their arrows fell on friend and foe alike. Tien Wa in her heavy armor shrugged them off; I with my scales took very little damage. The others... there were injuries and criticals and friends slaying friends.

The one saving grace of that debacle was that the enemy hadn’t brought any cavalry, and there just weren’t enough of them to encircle us. Some enemy or other struck down Mong Tu, and morale on both sides improved.

The horns sounded our withdrawal, and I saw Old Toothless being carried toward the gate by a very frustrated, very bloody Tang Ning. The enemies deepest into our formation were just crushed as squads came together due to limited space.

In an unobstructed field, base travel speed is determined solely by Might. Add in several dozen fallen, and that speed drops. I mean, I could have just turned and used Sprint, but I’d have gotten crushed in the press by the gate.

Besides, a brother-sister pair of sword-wielders were trying to catch me between them; I admit I found that distracting.

Then, arrows from the wall just started landing seemingly everywhere; the enemy stopped pursuing, and fell back toward their positions, stopping to loot, aid, and dispatch the fallen.

The press near the gate pushed me three blocks inside before I found an alley I could catch my breath in.
Not all the blood on me was mine, and somehow I had avoided major head trauma. My shield was... well, fixable once I regained my mental balance.

I hadn’t seen that many of our individual squad falling, but too many people were milling about for me to find them before dusk.

They were all clustered around a pyre, and on the pyre was Meng Gang. He was dressed in underclothes and a blood-soaked hospital gown, with his sword and armor stacked on top of him.

“Damn it.” I said, joining the seven of us who were left. “They got Meng Wa, too?”

Lian Zhi spat. “She’s our sergeant now, they have her in a briefing... somewhere.”

Oh... I guess there were eight of us, then.

Who was missing?

And more importantly, WHAT LANGUAGE WERE THE PRAYERS IN?

Honestly, if you’d filled the priestess’ mouth with marbles, she couldn’t sound any less clear. When she started dancing, I initially mistook it for drunken swaying.

Honestly, with a quick look up and down the street, the poor woman must have been worked to the bone.

It took Tang Ning two tries to find a language we could both speak; good to know it wasn’t just a problem for only me.

“You saw the arrows, right?”

“I saw some arrows. I figured the resistance shot him while we were falling back.”

“Nay. He was hit in the back three times. The colors of the fletchings confirm it was our side. We even know who. Are you coming with us to put a knife into them?”

“No, and neither should you.” I said, “Emotions are bad now. Our side just lost. It is time to come together, not to cut away.”

“Your Macchu is terrible.” She said, and resumed talking with the others.

There were subdued tones, and subtle gestures, and eventually much sharpening of knives. By then, the pyre had been lit, and a bronze bowl of pitch set at Meng Gang’s feet. There was some arguing about when to apply it, but Tang Ning’s will won out.

Before the pitch had even burned out for the first time, they were gone. They were back before the third and final application, cross looks on their faces, a mixture of guilt and frustration.

“Guards?” I asked Tang Ning.

“Someone had already slit his throat.” She said. “They had no right! It should have been us. We lost our father.”

“Your father?”

“No, not our father, our sergeant. Learn to pronounce things, idiot scaled frog.”

“Monitor?” I asked.

“I’ve seen monitors. You’re some kind of deformed scaled frog.”

Okay, harsh, but I suppose a funeral isn’t the best of times to nit-pick at details.

We saw his body burned, spare bits of metal gathered into a sack for cleaning and return home to his family.

And we returned to what we thought of as our position on the wall. The squads to our immediate left and immediate right were missing three and two people, respectively. Meng Wa found us there.

“Take watches, but get good sleep tonight. We sally forth again tomorrow.”

“But... Didn’t we just lose doing just that?” asked Lian Zhi.

“Right we did. Now it’s a matter of honor. The new general, Yuan Nihi, says we have to do it properly.”

There was grumbling about that, but no treasonous remarks.

As someone who was only 22/40 health, I wouldn’t have minded a healing potion, but even the reagents for those were already double in price.

Next time I fight in someone else’s war, I’m negotiating for better supplies, I promised myself.

a small spirit sent.



I found myself in a cranky mood.

I asked.

Ugh. WHY? I didn’t need this minor spirit’s help.

But I pulled out the point of Blood mana and tossed it near him.

He began to noisily devour the arcane mana. I emptied my waterskin over the side, and began the temporary enchantments that would make it a spirit home, if only for a night.

“This should be big enough.” I said, when it was done.

He said, entering it without reservation.

I corked it, sealing him inside. He was safe from wandering spirits; we were safe from him.

Kismet and I exchanged words that night; it seems that the intention of our orders had been that I would be on the sea-facing wall.

“But you’re near the Rice Gate?” she asked.

“Yes, we’re by the Rice Gate.”

“Okay, stay there. Donna and I are coming. And I *WILL* hit you in the eye for this.”

“No, I don’t think...” But it didn’t matter what I thought, because dream logic, Kismet was already elsewhere.