Chapter Sixty-One: ‘To yield no ground...’

“Everyone! Hello! My name is Desmond, and my friends and I will be kidnapping you today!”

A crowd of about fifty soldiers looked at him as he stood on the dais on one end of the base’s conference hall. Their faces were a wild mixture of anger and fear and horror. Clearly, they still required a bit of homogenizing.

“Now I know what you’re thinking. ‘Kidnapping?! That doesn’t sound very fun!’ But you are mistaken. We’re going to have a grand, old time. Trust me! I have experience with this sort of thing!”

The reapers floated among the soldiers, watching and listening, sizing them all up, while the other six servants hovered around the perimeter of the crowd--the shepherds who had gathered the flock.

“You may notice that we’ve taken all your knives and ammunition and given you unloaded guns. This is because we don’t need you fine fellows to do anything other than march around and look pretty.”

Desmond reached into the bag at his feet and pulled out a special treat for everyone. “As you can see, I have in my hand here, your commanding officer’s head.”

A ripple of murmurs passed over his audience.

Desmond held up his other hand. “Please hold all questions until after the presentation is over.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t catch his name, so we’ll just call him Teddy. Teddy was very brave. Teddy didn’t want to do as my friends and I asked.” Desmond dropped the head on the floor. “Don’t be like Teddy. Don’t be brave. We’re looking for cowards here today. Cowards listen to us. And more importantly, cowards get to live. But if, for whatever reason, you are still feeling that courageous impulse, then absolutely feel free to tell any of my esteemed comrades, and they will happily solve that little problem for you. I’m sure you all recognize our faces already and are therefore aware that we can snap your frail bodies like the tiny, insignificant twigs that they are.”

‘Nice speech,’ said Ezmortig privately. ‘Move it along before our friends start getting restless.’

“Right. Everyone, please make your way to one of the designated vehicles on your left.”

Six armored cars sat near the wall in a disjointed line, and the soldiers all began to filter toward them. It wouldn’t be enough for all the troops, but that was what the small jet in the adjacent hangar was for. Desmond very nearly felt a tinge of pity for the soldiers who ended up on that plane, because Hanjir was the one piloting it. The reason they hadn’t stolen a giant plane for everyone to board together was because Hanjir was the only pilot of the seven, and nobody else wanted to fly with that maniac at the controls. There’d been talk of stealing a new pilot to go along with it, but Hanjir made a fuss, ranting about how they shouldn’t trust some random person with such an important part of the mission. It seemed obvious enough to Desmond that Hanjir just didn’t want to share the sky with anyone, but the man’s words had convinced the reapers.

Under cover of darkness, they set out. Of the six cars, one was left unoccupied by a servant, as Karkash chose to simply fly under his own power and observe the convoy from above.

Desmond relaxed in the backseat, a soldier on either side of him. His body still felt a bit stiff, muscles sore, bones heavy. He rubbed his eyes and gave a loud yawn. “I’m going to take a nap now,” he announced to his fellow passengers. “You may be tempted to try to kill me or run away while my guard seems to be down. Go ahead and give it a try, if you want, but I will become rather cranky. At which point, I won’t care if only one of you tried something. I’ll kill all four of you, anyway.” At their uncomfortable silence, he added, “Can I get a ‘yes, sir’?”

“...Yes, sir.”

“Delightful. Wake me up when we get there. Or if something catches fire. Or if that plane crashes. I will need to go laugh in Hanjir’s face in the event of that last one.”

“...Yes, sir.”

Desmond grinned and shut his eyes. “I could get used to this. Have you given any thought to becoming professional yes men? Because I might like to hire you.”

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

The Carthrace Nature Reserve was an enormous stretch of forested mountains and valleys, occasionally broken by small lakes or hidden caverns. There were only two roads that ran through this area, both having been built long before the land had come under protection, and as such, they were no more than dirt trails, used only by hikers and forest rangers these days.

Hector supposed the place would have been more beautiful during the daytime, when it wasn’t all just pitch blackness against the lone headlight of his motorcycle.

The servants took up positions at the far western edge of the reserve, while the reapers all flew up high in the sky to enhance their view of the horizon. They’d all expected a long wait, and they certainly got one.

Hector partnered with Roman to watch the southern path, the Atreya-Rendon border at their backs, no more than three kilometers away.

The two men were perched atop a cliff, sitting on a metal bench with a domed cover against the wind. The night air was brisk on Hector’s face, but his riding jacket was fairly warm. Roman didn’t look bothered by the temperature, but of course, the man could also generate heat with his alteration power, so perhaps he was cheating.

Voreese and Garovel were both off scouting, so Hector and Roman took turns meditating while one kept watch over the road below, but after a few hours, Roman seemed to grow bored of it and struck up a conversation instead.

“So I guess your power has grown quite a bit since I last saw you.”

“Ah... y-yeah, I suppose,” said Hector. “What about you? Lynn said you achieved emergence.”

“Lynn? Oh, you mean Lynnette? You call her Lynn, huh?”

“I, uh... well, that’s what she said her name was, so...”

“Mm. Yeah, I’m a lot stronger now, too. I can do all sorts of fun stuff. Like flying.”

Hector turned his head curiously. “Really?”

“Little difficult, though. Haven’t quite mastered it. I can fly even faster than reapers can, but I haven’t worked out how to prevent my body from getting pummeled by g-forces.” Roman rolled his neck. “Broke my spine a few times.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Heh. What’s the worst injury you’ve had so far?”

“Oh, um. Hmm.” He scratched his head and took a deep breath. “I think that time I got blown up in Sescoria is still the worst. Y’know, when... uh... back when you saved me and Garovel?”

“Oh yeah. Okay, then what’s the worst you’ve had that didn’t kill you?”

“Hmm... I’m not sure, uh... There was one time in Klein where the cops pumped about a hundred bullets into me. There was the time my whole mouth got shot off--oh, but the time I had my, uh... my chest cavity ripped open... with like, surgical clamps... that was pretty bad. Though, I guess I was technically dead when it happened...”

“Impressive. Worst for me was probably the plane crash. Had to shield Lynnette or she would’ve been toast, so I didn’t have time to protect myself from this huge metal beam--came straight for me, basically cut me in two.”

“Ouch,” said Hector.

“Yeah. Was feeling that one for a couple weeks.”

The conversation hit an abrupt pothole as Hector realized that it was up to him to respond but that he didn’t have anything to say. He quietly agonized for a fresh topic, but Roman soon filled the void for him.

“So how did you originally die?”

Hector’s mouth was left open at that question. Mid-breath, it just made him stop.

Thankfully, Roman didn’t seem to notice yet. “Me, it’s kind of a funny story. Guess you could say I was a bit of a punk, back then. Always trying to get my hands on something valuable, something I could sell. Always trying to work people, get them to think that I was someone I wasn’t so that I could, y’know, take their stuff.” Roman paused for a nostalgic smirk. “Maybe I’m still a bit of a punk, honestly. It’s so much fun when you trick the right person.”

Hector just offered a nervous smile, still dreading the moment when he would have to answer. It felt like he was somehow back in school, back before meeting Garovel, during one of those awful times when he was just waiting for the teacher to call on him and tell him that he had to give his presentation to the class.

“Basically, though,” Roman was saying, “I ripped off the wrong guy, and he had me killed. All because of some stupid diamonds that he didn’t even need anyway. Guy was absolutely loaded. I mean, don’t get me wrong--I am a greedy son of a bitch, too, but come on. I outwitted him, was all. Murder was taking things a bit far. So I didn’t see it coming until it was too late, and that’s when Voreese found me. Then she helped me dismantle the bastard’s entire life and leave him rotting in prison with nothing.”

“Ah... w-wow...”

“Was pretty satisfying, I have to say.”

Hector was just hoping Roman would forget the previous topic as he said, “Uh, w-was that also when you met Gina, or...?”

“No,” said Roman. “I didn’t meet Gina until about a year later.”

“H-how long have you two been... um...?”

“How long have we been, what?”

“Been, um...? Er, what is your relationship, exactly? I-if that’s not too personal, I mean.”

“She’s my second-in-command. My right-hand woman. My babysitter.”

“One of those things doesn’t--”

“She’s the glue that keeps my boat in the air.”

“That’s definitely not a thing people say...”

“She’s the golden goose that makes sure I don’t count my chickens before they hatch.”

“...I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”

“She’s the giraffe to my peanut butter--”

“If you don’t want to tell me, you can just say so.”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“Ah...”

Roman gave a sideways nod. “Honestly, though, I’m not entirely sure, myself. Gina is a curious one. I’ve met a lot of people who make their living off of keeping secrets, but Gina is more difficult to read than most of them.”

“You think so? She seemed pretty, um... straightforward... uh, to me.”

“Yes, well. She would. And I did tell her to help you, as well.”

“Hmm...”

“When I first met her, she was borderline agoraphobic.”

“Agora...?”

“She was extremely reluctant to go outside. I don’t think she’d left her apartment in months.”

“Oh... and you helped her get over that?”

“You could say that.”

Hector just looked at him, waiting for elaboration.

“I kind of burnt down her apartment,” said Roman.

“Aha...”

“Accidentally.”

“Right.”

“The details aren’t important.”

“Uh-huh...”

“Long story short, I helped her get back on her feet. Was only meant to be a temporary situation, but she ended up sticking around.”

“And you don’t know anything else about her?”

“I never said that.”

“But you said... all that stuff about her being difficult to read.”

“Yep.”

“Then...?”

“If you want to know more about her, then ask her yourself. Not my place to tell.”

Hector gave a small nod.

“You never answered my question,” said Roman. “How did you originally die? Told you mine.”

Hector nearly cringed. He was better prepared to answer now, but he certainly would’ve preferred Roman to have forgotten.

For most servants, it was probably a benign enough thing to answer--simple and chat-worthy, even morbidly amusing, like Roman’s had been. The man likely had little reason to suspect that it was so personal a question.

He considered lying. It would be easy enough. A car accident, maybe. But the thought of lying about it was somehow even more humiliating to him. So he decided to take a cue from Roman. “I... don’t want to tell you.”

Hector knew that it might appear rude for a seemingly harmless question or that it might just spark even greater curiosity from Roman, but he was prepared. He’d had plenty of practice remaining silent.

However, Roman did not pry any further. “Fair enough,” was all he said.

Hector took a long, quiet breath as there came another lull in the conversation, this one more enduring. He could already see the first hints of daylight on the horizon. Clouds gathering in the distance suggested rain to come, no doubt very common weather for this forest.

He squinted, looking up diagonally. He could just barely make out the floating white skull in the sky. It was moving, scouting, and Hector couldn’t tell if it was Garovel or Voreese. ‘How much longer, do you think?’

‘Not sure,’ said Garovel from wherever he was. ‘The waiting is pretty terrible, though, isn’t it?’

‘Y-yeah...’

‘Something not too many folks realize. Big fights usually involve a fuckload of waiting. You’d think that’d change in these modern times, but nope.’

‘Ugh...’

‘How’s Roman? Does he seem nervous?’

‘Er, not really...’

‘Hmm. Ask him how long he’s been a servant.’

Hector regathered himself and asked, “How, um... how long have you been a servant?”

“Six years or so.”

‘He says six years,’ said Hector.

‘Odd.’

“What about you?” said Roman.

“Oh, uh.” He recalled what Garovel had told him previously about keeping his faster growth a secret, but he wasn’t sure what an appropriate lie would be. “About seven months, I think...” It hadn’t even been four yet, but he remembered telling Gina five a couple months ago.

Roman cocked an eyebrow at him. “So young.”

Hector returned a shrug. “Six years seems kinda old.”

“I suppose it is. I’ve mostly stayed out of conflicts, so I’m sure my power hasn’t grown very quickly compared to yours. Voreese and I were more concerned with financial matters.”

“Why would she care about money?” Hector asked. “Why would any reaper?”

Roman gave a laugh. “You probably wouldn’t think it, but she’s actually quite ambitious. Wants to build a servant empire of her own.”

Hector blinked at that.

“Not getting involved in big fights for the first few years was part of her plan, see? According to her, that’s how the servant emperors in the past have pulled it off. Keep a low profile for many years, let your physical power build slowly, and in the meantime, focus on acquiring funds and a reliable network of contacts. Then you make your debut and try to draw in some bigger fish, hopefully get them to join your team. And from there, it’s all about momentum.”

“I see...” Hector looked across the endless canopy of trees another time.

“That’s what she says, anyway. The simplified version.”

“Hmm. In that case... six years seems really young, too.”

“Yeah. That’s the trouble with long-term plans. The world keeps turning while you’re busy getting ready. You remember Gerald, right? That old prick whose garage I took you to? That’s why he abandoned us, you know. He’s more concerned about the future than the present.”

“Mm.”

“Networking is a real bitch. My advice? If you find genuinely trustworthy people, hold onto them as best you can. If you don’t have enough space for them in your life, then get a bigger house. Don’t let them go.”

Hector was quiet a moment as he let those words sink in. They seemed wise, though maybe a bit simplistic. He was reminded of a certain family of three. Perhaps that was Roman’s intention. “You... you really want to become an emperor? Like Sermung and all them?”

“Maybe.”

“It hardly even seems possible--uh, no offense. I mean, like, personally, uh... I couldn’t imagine myself doing something like that.”

“You don’t think so?” said Roman with a sheepish grin. “Maybe we could be partners, you and I. Build an empire together.”

Hector’s brow depressed. “Uh...”

Roman laughed. “Not up to you. I know.”

“Ah... w-why does Voreese want to make an empire?”

“Delusions of grandeur.”

“...What?”

Roman’s expression softened. “She wants to make the world a better place. And not just in a good-deed-for-the-day kind of way. She wants me to obtain so much strength and influence that I can at least try to fix some of the really fucked up things in the world. Like slavery and widespread famine and institutionalized poverty--y’know, the things that no one’s been able to fix in centuries.”

“Y-you, uh... um... wow.”

“And that’s not even counting Abolish.” Roman laughed again. “She fucking hates Abolish.”

“Garovel’s not a fan, either.”

“Ha. Anyway, yeah, she’s got all sorts of lofty ambitions. But I suppose that’s what I like about her.” He paused to look at Hector. “Don’t tell her I said that, by the way.”

After a bit more chatter, they both returned to their meditations. Not long into it, however, Roman’s hand gripped Hector’s shoulder, taking the young man away from the metal house that he had been imagining.

All amusement had gone from Roman’s face. “They’ve chosen our road,” he said. “Voreese is on her way to inform the others. Tell Garovel.”