The Slime Farmer - 60 Aftermath

“How are you here?” Defi curled his arms around Turq. He’d been half-disbelieving when he’d seen the familiar seakrait form on the battlefield, but the feel of the bond didn’t lie.

“People were worried when the first search parties didn’t return.” Hanna, who he recalled was one of the farmers he met just after Kern had given him that damnable letter, answered.

Her brother Bron grinned. “We met Helan on the road.”

Defi’s eyes went to Cuthes, who was resting on the other bed in the tent.

The man shrugged. “Couldna let ’em go alone, yeah? I know some of the area, after all.”

“We got lost two times,” Hanna scoffed.

“I’m wounded!” Cuthes waved his arms, one of them in a new splint.

“Your brain’s not in your arms, old man.”

Lergen shook his head as he bandaged Defi’s leg. “Those kids of yours told me to bring you Turq no matter what. I regret wondering why. That transformation nearly stopped my heart, do you know? Moreover, I can’t believe you didn’t get this looked at for hours. You walked on it to Genlet!”

Defi had numbed the area with the Current. In the aftermath, there had been no time to get attention from the limited amount of healers. There had been others that more severely injured. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

He looked at Hanna and Bron, Lergen and Cuthes. “I don’t think yesterday would have gone so well without you and the rest supporting the army.”

Cuthes hacked a cough, with a wide smile. “That’s what I wanna hear! Some people, eh? They worry too much.”

Hanna put a hand on her hip and lifted her brows at the old soldier. Bron sighed. “Ma would kill us if you died and we didn’t prevent it.”

“You’re related?” Defi peered at the three of them. The only similarity between them was the riot of curls on their heads. Hanna and Bron had a smattering of freckles across their cheeks, only just visible.

“Cuthes is our mother’s only cousin,” Hanna said. “Unfortunately.”

“Oi, oi, where is the respect?”

Lergen tied off the last knot and tucked it in neatly. “We’re heading back to town today. Knowing the mayor, she’s already sent the first catch to aid Genlet and the soldiers. Let’s not be here when it arrives.”

Defi understood. It was impolite to reclaim gifts given in support. Though the grievously wounded would stay in Genlet, those that could return home would not stay even if the Genlet mayor asked.

After all, Genlet was currently supporting over fifty soldiers who just entered their first battle, a similar number of abducted and starved tradesmen, and the wounded from the surrounding villages. Genlet was a rich trade town, but medicine and recovery dishes were expensive.

It would be at least three days before the wounded recovered. Then maybe a week before the business of the Blades was done and the soldiers moved on.

But that didn’t have anything to do with Defi anymore.

Bron nodded. “I’ll check on the carts.”

His sister followed him out after patting Turq on the head, waving at them. “Don’t go to sleep, uncle, no one’s carrying you.”

“Brat.” Cuthes turned to them, the only others in the tent, indignant. “D’you hear what she said? Mine own niece? Unbelievable.”

The happy light in his eyes belied the tone of his words.

Lergen chuckled. “Yes, yes.”

Defi forced away the wistfulness in his chest. “I’m staying a while. There are some people I need to talk to.”

Lergen sighed. “Your back and leg means you need to stay here in any case. Why you didn’t go to the physickers’ hall the moment you got to Genlet, I cannot imagine. You have to take care of yourself, Defi. There are people waiting for you to return, you know.”

Defi hugged Turq, nodded.

It took only half an hour for the Lowpool contingent to be on the road, happy to be returning home. Defi watched them go, then headed toward the cooking area.

He was told Natan had been isolated in a tent with the most injured people. Defi just needed to find the tent that had physickers and apothecaries running in and out all the time. It should also be near the cooks.

Sure enough, one of the larger tents was busier than the others. No one stopped him as he entered, despite the numerous guarding soldiers.

Defi paused as he neared one of the curtained off areas in the large tent. The major was sleeping on a chair at Natan’s bedside.

Battle made strange friends, it appeared.

After what was left of the Blades surrendered, the major had ordered the army to identify the dead, then bury them in place. The dead of those that were not Blades would be taken back to their families.

The locals had assisted with a sort of angered solemnity.

The Gamber Blades were the security forces of the province of Havare, whose nobility had fled after the demise of the marquisate in fear of catching the emperor’s eye. Even now, when the nobles were trickling back to their old estates they were hesitant to deploy too many armsmen in the area.

The Gamber Blades security company was one of Havare’s most trusted institutions, despite being less than a decade old.

The major’s actions indicated that he would not cover the matter up, despite the blow to the reputation of the army and the reputation of security forces in the empire.

Defi recalled the scene he’d come across yesterday, and felt his respect for the man rise.

He glanced at Natan and exhaled a puff of air.

It was unbecoming to be caught eavesdropping. He still wasn’t certain how Natan saw him. Possibly his Shade? Natan had red flame. How did that allow detection of hidden individuals? Maybe it was intent, like the Current could? He’d turned to help Natan just before the man warned him away. Was it possible?

Defi cleared his mind of the conundrum. It was no use speculating at this time. His studies on the sorcery of Ascharon were still too shallow.

And after all that, he hadn’t learned anything that was immediately useful.

In the epics, the dying villain told the heroic prince everything with his last breath, a last confession and a final grace, allowing the prince to punish the hidden wrongdoers and reward the humble deserving upon his return to the kingdom.

He was not ashamed to say that was the primary reason he lingered at a scene that should have remained private. A prudent person did not turn away knowledge that had fallen at their feet.

It was lamentable, truly.

Was there no way to gain so much knowledge without the aggravation of being in an epic?

Natan’s eyes cracked open as Defi stopped at the foot of the bed.

“I gave you a bottle you didn’t use.” Defi greeted, lips tipping in a wry smile. He knew roughly the efficacy of his savras extract. Seeing Natan after the battle with the Blades’ leader, he had not used any of it at all.

Natan glanced to the side, another bed. On it laid a woman unconscious, wan and still. “She needed it more. It helped greatly.”

“It was only savras extract.”

The woman on the bed seemed half within the door to death. Defi did not think a minor medicine would have helped all that much.

“Prolonged her life enough to get here. Thank you.”

Defi nodded. “The others have already left to the Lowpool. Cuthes went with them. He insisted the broken arm wasn’t serious. Ernye is asleep and Hanel is still unconscious, so Helan hasn’t left either.”

He really wondered about whoever gave those two their names. They weren’t even twins.

“And you?”

“Better than before.”

“Defi of the Lowpool.” The major had woken up. He studied Defi, eyes sharp and calculating.

“Major il Vons.”

“I am glad, Defi of the Lowpool, that you are well. Seeing you yesterday, I half-thought you were a traitor.”

Defi of the Lowpool.

The man appeared to be attempting to carve Defi’s name in stone. Did he have a bad memory? In any case, Defi hoped it was that and not the man imagining carving a gravestone with his name on it.

He replied lightly. “Surrounded as we were by traitors, I am not surprised.”

“Yes.”

There was an odd character to the man’s voice.

Defi hid his surprise. “You do not think so?”

“We are investigating.”

Defi had forgotten how many times the ‘official’ story had passed his lips. The major needed practice in that regard.

He did not pry, making note to see if Natan could be persuaded to tell what happened in their fight at a later date. Unlikely, but curiosity was encouraged among the children in Ontrea. Curiosity and the holding of secrets.

“I wish you success,” he said instead.

The major stood. “I will leave you to your conversation.”

“Major,” Defi stopped him. “One of your men and I, we have unfinished business.”

“I was informed.” The major looked back at him neutrally. “If it were just a day ago, I would attempt to dissuade you. Today, it appears I must request use of the barracks.”

He nodded sharply at the both of them and left.

Defi huffed a laugh. “Even if I win or lose, your officer would learn something?”

Natan grunted. “Not just the officers. The troops are looking for something to take their minds off yesterday. Soldiers who learn fast survive. That major won’t pass up the chance. This is a training group, after all.”

*

The barracks was packed. Hunters and soldiers, the guards of Genlet town, and the mayor himself were squeezed against the walls. Turq was left with Natan in the physickers’ tent.

Defi faced Vice-captain Raber Gerac in the enter. He eyed the vice-captain, who looked slightly more dishevelled than yesterday morning. “You have the choice of weapons.”

“A spear! A spear!” came the shout from the walls. It was taken up by more than a few.

Raber Gerac’s face changed, as what he was going to say was interrupted by the din.

Defi had almost forgotten that nearly everyone here had seen him fight. It could not be helped.

“Are you trying to disadvantage me?” he laughed. “My spear arts are not suited to duelling.”

He was booed loudly.

He laughed again. It was almost like being back home, surrounded by people who appreciated a beautiful sword strike more than the songs of beautiful women.

The two spear arts he mastered were weak compared to others, but it was undeniable that they were made for the chaotic battlefield. He could modify them for duelling, having attained mastery, but that was not what was needed here.

He wanted to end this in one stroke, in one move, but with the betrayal of yesterday he did not even need Natan’s cautioning words to see he could not go overboard.

Besides, people knowing of such a limitation to his skill would put them at greater ease.

“Swords, then.” Raber Gerac snapped the words out crisply, a trifle smug.

Boos and cheers resounded, the barracks giving their all to their whoops and yells.

Defi nodded. The other was confident. The swordcraft he’d seen in Ascharon so far was interesting. It was not wrong to say he wanted to know more.

The Stormhawk Sword was a foundation sword dance that condensed the basic teachings of millennia of swordmasters. If he could understand something of the sword arts in Ascharon, it would be possible to enhance the Stormhawk Sword. One of the reasons it was also called the Scholar’s Sword was its ability to absorb a new style into itself. Even after century after century of constant refinement, the Stormhawk style was still conducive to change.

Because of such considerations, Defi preferred that the vice-captain be skilled.

The swords were procured.

Defi gave a swing or two. His opponent did the same. They readied.

“Start!”

A chorus of cheers sounded long and loud. The abruptly stopped.

Defi held his blade at the opponent’s throat. It was not even five seconds.

He met the vice-captain’s shocked eyes.

Just because there were other considerations did not mean Defi would so easily forgive.

He smiled, showing teeth, then stepped away. “Best two out of three.”