Born a Monster

318 218 – Loyalists

Plotline: Main

Chapter Type: Social

Ever try lying on the beach until discovered? It turns out that I didn’t have the patience for it. I coughed up a lungful of water, and made my way along the coast toward the village. I didn’t need to feign fatigue or hunger.

Wartime isn’t the best time for a foreigner, even a young and unarmed one. Their shouts were less of welcome, and more to alert their neighbors. The whole village was a dozen houses, a warehouse, and some manner of irrigation thing from inland that provided the village with fresh water from further up the river.

“You! Stop there, or we’ll gut you like a fish!” an old lady with a whaling harpoon said.

I stopped, raising my hands. “I know I’m not supposed to be here, but I am.”

“We have nothing for you, drowned one.”

“I’m not drowned.” I said. Yes, the Drowned Dead are a thing on my world. Some of them walk and talk, and eat people. Her caution was warranted.

“You are from the north.” she said.

.....

“I am from the north.” I confirmed. “My ship has been sunk by your Daurian fleet.”

“Ah-ah. Go away. Nothing here for you.”

“I am willing to work for my fair share of the food.” I said.

“No. No work here. No spare food here. No shelter from the soldiers here. You will go away now.”

I sighed. “Where is the nearest place I could find work?”

She wagged her head inland. “Follow the road. You’ll come to a mining village. They always have work.”

Ugh. “Okay, I’m going. Thank you for not killing me.”

“Get gone faster.” she said, moving in aggressively. Then she suddenly stopped.

Oh, I’d brought my sword to my hand. I continued moving the direction she had indicated, and we watched each other warily.

The “road” was a muddy, grassless convention more than a public work. Again, the wilderness was clearly over-hunted. It was okay; I didn’t need protein to survive, and there was enough brush and scrub and grass.

And it took biomass to refresh those; how do humans survive on such limited digestive tracts?
Three fiber per serving of wood; forty servings in my System stomach, one hundred twenty nutrition, of the one hundred thirty five I needed to survive. In theory, I could get three such meals in a day. I could survive on what the wilderness provided, and I spent much of that day just sitting against a tree, wondering why I felt compelled to remain with these people.

A quick view of my System Quests revealed that the word of the elementals was spreading all on its own; I might be able to rely that to finish my quest for me. Honestly, the only reason to stay on the island was the Ermine Cloak and... whatever the name of that big diamond was. The admiral had both of those; since he intended to kill me, I could count those as unavailable.

Turning the war in favor of the rebels wasn’t going to help me get either of those; they’d end up in the hands of some rebel general or other. Winning the war for the guards got me nothing, except maybe an execution.

Or maybe, just maybe, it would get me a ride off the island.

Noticing a willowy (polite for skinny) woman watching me from the wood, I waved at her. I sent.

She panicked, turned into a fox, and fled into the wood. Okay, that was new.

All right, let’s presume that the people running the tin mine didn’t kill me. Copper Farms hadn’t when I’d been in my natural form and wearing a black headband. They might have work for me, but that work would probably be in the mines. If I were lucky, I’d have the nominal option to leave. More likely, I’d be enslaved.

Dang it, there were no good options. When I came to the edge of the farmland that surrounded the village, I hung a left. In theory, there was a road to the south, to the heart of the Ricelands.

“You! Foreigner! Get away from my crops!”

“I’m on this side of your fence, and I intend to stay here.”

That wasn’t good enough for him; he followed me along the edge of the cleared area between the farms and the edge of the woods for twenty minutes, hollering invective, and orders, and asking questions I wasn’t about to answer for him. He even crossed the fence into his neighbor’s property and followed me until his neighbor took issue.

I left them screaming at each other about clod-like feet and improperly set rows of crops.



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Noticing some fresh bamboo shoots, I detoured into the woods to pick them. I’d like to claim that my hunger saved me, but in reality, I’d have heard the musicians from at least half a mile away.

They traveled five men abreast, flags blowing in the wind, red on black, just shy of a hundred different designs.

Were those... loyalist colors?

If so, they would have...

An arrow struck the tree I was hiding behind, less that two fingers from my head.

... scouts. In the woods. The woods where I was hiding, looking suspicious.

I sighed, raising my empty hands for the second time that day.

“What the fuck? Is that a foreigner?”

“Looks like.”

“What’s he doing here?”

“I’m just a Hunter. He looks suspicious.”

“Hey, you! You know you’re under arrest, right? Don’t move, or the next arrow goes into your favorite head.”

“Please don’t do that.” I said. “I surrender. I won’t resist.”

They were both professional and thorough. They took my weapon and my shield, had me lay on the ground and bound me with rope before leading me over to the troops. I was loaded into a supply cart, and the guards of the cart became my new guards.

“What is this, a regiment?” I asked.

“First Loyalist Regiment.” said one guard.

“Don’t talk to the prisoner.” said another. “And you. Shut up, if you want to have your tongue to answer questions after we liberate this mining town.”

That liberation took all of twenty minutes. The gate was originally shut against the troops, but someone or other came to their senses, and opened the gates before there could be an assault on the village wall.

It took hours for the troops to pass through; it looked like a single company was left behind, roughly one soldier for every citizen. It wasn’t enough if the Liberation army came, but the town itself was clearly discouraged from revolting. If they hadn’t been such assholes, I might have felt bad for them.

The main army camped just west of the farmlands, a process that took up the last two hours of daylight.

I was shown into a wooden crate, large enough to fit me in and small enough that it wasn’t comfortable.

Onto this a lid was hammered.

Sometime after dinner, four men came, hefted my crate and in a surprisingly gentle manner brought me into another tent. A crowbar wrenched the lid off, and I found myself in a well-lit tent of moderate size. I was dumped out onto the ground before a foot-table, upon which was set a plate of seafood over rice.

“Indeed. Not what I expected a spy to look like at all.” said a thin man, tall and shaved bald. He had that thing where his real eyebrows were shaved off, and a higher, thicker set applied with mascara. He wore the cloth dress uniform of a general, and the golden circlet of landed nobility. The lines around his mouth and eyes spoke of a face that lived in a perpetual disapproving scowl.

“I am Lord General Ding Mu, Administrator of the Ricelands, and commanding officer of the First Loyalitst Army. What is your name?”

Being quite tied up, I lay there on my side. “My Daurian name is Ping, given to me by the monk Kong Bai, of the Shanshu brothers of the monastery on the other side of this hill.”

“Ah, a story that would make you an ally. If only it were true. Brother Shun, stick your dagger in his ear if he repeats his lie. Now, who are you?”

I sighed. “Should I resume my natural form?” I asked.

“Oh, please. I’ve never seen a Tanuki or other shapechanger. I understand the process is fairly quick and magicial. Amuse me, and change back.”

[Undoing last transformation. Human, Manoran into modified Human, Daurian. Transformation will take eight minutes.]

What? No, I wanted my NATURAL form!

There was screaming that was not mine, and they repeatedly slapped or otherwise struck me. I barely felt these things, and let none of it affect the process.

As my breathing stabilized, I opened my eyes. Blood got in them immediately, and I winced in pain. “Ah! Greumyar!” I said, or something like that.

Lord General Ding Mu picked up his fan from where he had dropped it. “That... looked unpleasant.” he said from behind it.

“The process is neither quick nor easy.” I said. “But I am Ping, I assure you.” Blood got into my mouth. I seemed to be covered with a layer of the stuff, infusing my skin, my hair, my clothing.

The lord general cleared his throat. “Untie our guest, if you would, please.”