277 Guard Work

Tycondrius smirked, watching Sasha's elven eyes widen, her pupils dilated. She licked her lips, clearly able to smell its contents.

"Venison jerky," He waved the package in front of her, and her eyes followed it... "Taken from the hindquarter. 1/8th ilm-slices. Cut against the grain of the meat... Pliable but chewy..."

Sasha was visibly salivating. She wiped her mouth with the back of her coat sleeve.

Tycon whispered his next words to attack her soul, "Sweetened... with honey."

Sasha rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Tycon and burying her face in his armored chest.

...Likely, she did not understand what she was doing, but she did understand that a 'sincere' hug would see a reward. Clever girl.

Food was the most powerful diplomatic measure in all worlds, not just this one. That he was decent at cooking was one of his most powerful aspects.

He recalled that it was likely how the Rhodok Healer began to trust him so unreservedly. When he picked fruits for the noble Rhodok stallions, Bucephalus and Heracles, he cut and sun-dried what he could, for his tent-group. Luck saw that those bits of apples and berries suited Fortuna's elven palate.

"Do well, young lady," Tycon stroked his daughter's hair. "When I return, we will continue our travels."

The chocolate elf looked up at him and nodded, a slight smile on her lips.

...

Modestus sat underneath the shade of a leafless, dead tree on the mountainside, staring at his dried rations with annoyance and disgust. For the past several suns, he had padded his meals with Duplicarius' Zehr's fire-roasts, meat jerky, fruits and berries-- both fresh-picked and sun-dried. He knew the military rations were bad... he was used to them from decades of military life.

...But Flame take it all, he missed that green-haired boy's food.

Decanus Ferrutius was in charge of the two tent-groups guarding the entrance of a cave. Guard work was a good 80% of military work, so no one complained-- well, no one was surprised. Everyone complained.

The Rhodoks had arrived early in the morning and after an excruciating 16 bells of guarding and patrolling, he checked the sunlight to see... that it was just past noon.

Flame. Take it. All.

The Rhodoks had brought tents, but Modestus hoped they wouldn't go on into the night. Knowing his luck, it would... but with his sense of time, he'd probably be dead of old age and boredom when that came around.

They guarded a cursed place... where over two dozen archers had been killed by a monster called a Manticore. He and the men swept through, covering up old blood with sand and earth, whispering Old Prayers. Some more brazen men blasphemously called on unfamiliar gods, hoping that *some* deity would hear them.

Modestus didn't like it-- but he started to see some of the sense in pleading for forbidden help from the great beyond. He forced himself to chew some hard tack, washing it down with water...

"I'll worship whatever Flame-scarred demon that pops out, if she can cook me a proper meal."

A Decanus with a wild, orange beard sat beside him, drinking heavily from one of his canteens. It was filled with wine, and the breaths of the two of them stank of it heavily, "How about you head into the caves and ask the devil, Zehr, himself."

Modestus chuckled, scratching at his itchy grey beard, "Like hells, I will. First off, the boy has a temper-- like you didn't notice. And second... those caves are black as night and full of holes that drop down to the hells."

"Tch," Ferrutius scoffed. "Like I'm scared of that prick. Haha... More wine?"

Modestus smiled politely, taking the offered wineskin. The Decanus had his own pride-- every warrior did. Zehr walloped him in a straight fight. Ferrutius would be a fool to challenge him to a second.

Modestus took a deep pull of the delicious liquid, returning him to a warm state of light drunkenness.

"You ever wish you were anyplace but here, Brother-Immortal?" Ferrutius laid backward, resting his forearms on the dirt, "I heard you have a wife."

Modestus nodded, passing the skin back, "Aye. Most of the coin I earn gets sent directly to her-- and she budgets well. And I've a boy who was apprenticing for a potter-- pretty sure he's mine, too. Even if the company goes to shite, I can just go home and be a family man."

The Decanus began to chortle, squealing like a dying pig, "Flame take you, Modestus. You sell your body for two silver slugs."

"Hey, that's three silver-- and that's for a kiss on the cheek!!"

The two of them laughed for a short while...

"Ah, no... It's a joke, Decanus," Modestus sighed.

"You know, with the way Zehr talks... Don't you think the boy believes it?"

Modestus felt his eye twitch... Shite. That was right...

"It's too late now..." He let out a helpless sigh, "Any harm that's done with that's, already done."

"Brother-Immortal..." Ferrutius sat up... "You thinking of retiring after this?"

Modestus groaned and rolled eyes so hard, his entire head rolled back. He wished he hadn't done so... with the way his neck felt, he was certain it'd be sore in a few bells, "Flaaaaame take thaaaat, Ferrutius. I'm immortal, haven't you heard?"

Ferrutius grinned, revealing a crooked, untrustworthy smile, "I have."

"It's bad luck to talk about retirement. In the stories, the old man gets offed on his last sun-- you know that."

Modestus scowled, snatching the wineskin back from Ferrutius. He drained the last of it.

"I thought you said you were immortal?" Ferrutius countered.

"I can be as immortal as I like and not want my skull dashed against the rocks, thank you."

The Decanus gazed up at the bright blue sky, "Well... I'm one to tempt fate. I think I'll retire after this. I've done my duty to my country... and the thanks I get is a bit shite for it."

Modestus sighed as he rifled through his pack, looking for another wineskin. He offered it to the Decanus, "I don't blame you."

The scream of a large hawk or eagle cut the somber moment. Modestus looked up to see several... bird... people swooping down towards his Rhodoks.

Men and women began shouting. Their weapons clattered as they scrambled to pick up their weapons.

The monsters of the mountains were attacking...