Chapter 170: 44 Gaw: Shit-(1)

The army of the [Cleanly King] had arrived at their capital city, Mundus. The army had lost more than half of its number and returned to their garrison to lick their wounds. Only then did [General] Rathos call a retreat.

So happy were the [Cleanly King]’s forces to see the [General] leave that most did not realize he had left with only a thousand cavalry, a far smaller force than the [General] had started with.

Those who did notice assumed much of the cavalry was unable to endure the grueling, endless march and were instead given time to rest.

The truth was far less kind.

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“Keep marching!” a deep voice shouts as the sun begins to crest the horizon.

Left unsaid is what happens if they stop. Abdel has already seen it. Clean, expertly done arrow shots, straight through the neck. The monsters didn’t even bother to use tipped arrows, instead using sticks and broken arrow shafts so as not to waste ammunition.

Abdel, former [Captain] of King Tersus, and before that, King Gravitus, gulps as he glances at the humanoid horse monster waving its bow. With a deep breath, he continues marching the pace alongside the rest of the defeated army. He looks to the right and left, seeing other ragged men like himself. Exhausted, tired, hungry, but they marched.

“What’s going to happen to us?” asks a young [Soldier], barely sixteen winters, as he trudges through dirt.

Most ignore the lad. It’s been days since the march began, and the men have already spread all sorts of unsavory speculations of their fates amongst themselves. Food, target practice, but the most common one was,

“Slavery,” a [Soldier] states. “We lost, and now the lot of us are going to become [Slaves]. Better get used to this, because the rest of your life is going to be nothing but hard labor.”

Several other [Soldiers] grunt in acknowledgment and the man who posed the question gulps. It’s not an uncommon practice to make captive [Soldiers] into slaves, but it’s considered impolite among kingdoms to not offer ransom first. At Least for the loyal elites. However…

“No, not [Slaves],” Abdel interjects. He taps his sword at his side. “If that’s what they wanted, then they would’ve disarmed us already. They plan on using us as [Soldiers], probably to bolster their army.”

“Really? Shit, thats worse,” A [Soldier], a Gravitus [Soldier] considering the armor he wears, curses aloud.”

Abdel would have to agree. Trying to integrate defeated soldiers with your own army is a fool’s errand. The added [Soldiers] are sent to the front, used as fodder to weaken the enemy. They are sacrificial pawns.

Then again…

“Maybe not. If I remember correctly, that [General] didn't have much infantry. It looked as though he only had cavalry.”

Abdel reaches up and scratches his stubble-covered chin. He hasn't had a chance to shave since he started marching. His growing beard has been itchy.

“They may actually try to keep us alive,” he says aloud, but to his surprise, those around him don’t seem to notice his words. Glancing to his right, he sees the [Soldiers] staring up towards the direction they are marching.

Following their gazes, he blinks in astonishment at a wall far larger than any he has ever seen. His stupefaction grows as he continues marching closer, eventually passing the wall under construction and entering into an area swarming with empty tents.

Then, the army stops marching as one of the scaled monsters steps forward. Behind her is a contingent of horse-people, wearing blankets with red crosses emblazoned. As the lizard begins to speak, Abdel can pick out that the voice appears to be feminine.

“Welcome, [Soldiers]! I am [Prime Quartermaster] Marcia. Your army was defeated, and you are now our captives. Going forward, the choices you make will determine your future.”

Abdel breaks into a cold sweat as he feels the pressure behind her words. It feels similar to when his late [King] Gravitus addressed his troops.

“Now, my [Queen] is in need of loyal [Soldiers], but we are in short supply. Thus, each of you has a simple choice.” Her lips quirk up into a smile. “Swear Loyalty to [Queen] Nighmora and join our ranks,” Marcia grins and flashes them her sharp, pointed teeth, ”or die.”

Silence descends upon the entirety of the army. Never had they expected such a proclamation to be given. In almost every case, it’s either to serve or become a [Slave].

“Now, get in line.”

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Abdel is afraid.

“Next.”

No. Not afraid. Afraid doesn’t truly encapsulate the dread and fear he feels.

“Next.”

No, Abdel is pants-shittingly terrified.

“Next.”

He gulps and walks towards the dias. The female monster lounging languidly on the throne is one he of which has never seen the like. While physically similar to the lizards in form, her skin is covered in hard, white plates, like a bug’s carapace. Her elongated tail lazily curls and uncurls around the base of her throne. He doesn’t know what she is except that this Nighmora is a [Queen], one who easily killed over a hundred [Soldiers] who refused to swear loyalty. At least, Abdel hopes they’re dead.

He looks to the side where things once human, stand. Now, they are monsters, covered in the same white plate as the [Queen]. She had struck them with her tail and transformed them into those… things.

He sighs. One in five [Soldiers] and every single [Captain] is now one of those monsters. Considering the track record and his class, he is most likely going to die.

He gets to the podium and quickly kneels.

“Name and class?” the [Queen] asks.

“Abdel, [Captain],” he answers.

“Do you swear loyalty to me and my kingdom?” the [Queen] asks while her tail floats down next to him. A needle extends from it, ready to impale him depending on his answer.

He swallows hard. Abdel doesn’t want to die. He had served under Tersus after Gravitus. Why shouldn’t he give up on the [King] that took his kingdom?

Why not? What’s another? he asks himself. He bows his head.

“I swear,” he utters.

A pregnant pause follows his words. The seconds that tick by feel like hours. Abdel’s heart beats hard within his chest. Sweat drips down his brow.

“Hmmm… Interesting,” he hears her words as the tail retracts. “You pass.”

“I… W-what?” he stammers.

He doesn’t get an answer. Instead, he is directed towards the tents by the scaled [Soldiers]. Though, unlike before, he is directed with far less hostility. They seem… almost welcoming to Abdel. Almost. Even the female named Marcia has a softened look when he reports to her, even smiling.

Granted, her sharp-toothed smile isn’t exactly a comforting sight.

“A [Captain]! Finally. I was beginning to think we weren’t going to get any. This is good,” she reaches into a container, selects a red sash and hands it to him. ”Here, put this around your arm. The color denotes you as a [Captain],” she shifts her head and points towards the central tent, “Darrow is in charge of the infantry and will be your commanding officer. Now, do you have any questions?”

Abdel has many, but most importantly; “Do you have food?” he asks. The march has been long and he is famished.

She nods professionally. “Absolutely. Our cooks have already prepared stew in several locations. It should not be hard to fin-” she stops and looks up.

A roar echoes in the sky and both Abdel and Marcia are forced to shift their attention to the ice-blue wyvern the size of a warhorse as it descends a few meters from their position.

In fear, Abdel jumps back and unsheathes his sword. It’s a rusty blade, but the edge is still sharp thanks to his maintenance.

Though upon closer examination of the monster, he’s not sure his paltry blade would be enough to even injure it.

The beast turns its head, vertical slit pupils focussing on Abdel, a human that dares to-, “Frostyyy,” a childish voice comes from the beast’s back alongside a tapping sound, “No! Bad. You can’t be mean to people like that,” the voice exclaims.

Marcia sighs aloud and shakes her head. “Aisha, why are you here?”

The wyvern lowers its head and body, allowing a little, scaled girl wearing a dress to hop off. The first thing Abdel notices is the child is blind. Clear white eyes with a gray pupil stare at nothing. For some reason, he feels like she can see him.

“Marcyyyyy! I came to play!” The child smiles.

Marcia frowns. “Aren’t you supposed to be training?”

Aisha puffs up her cheeks. “I was, but Volpy is busy with a new baby and they won’t let me see how they’re making them.”

The child releases her breath and gazes at the multitude of tents that are set up.

“Soooo, what are you doing?”

Marcia’s tail swishes in annoyance. “We’re expanding the kingdom’s army and I am busy organizing the new [Soldiers].”

“Ooh! Can I help?” Aisha asks.

“No,” Marcia denies her with only a word.

Aisha frowns and stomps her feet. “But I’m bored…” she complains. Noticing that Marcia won’t budge, she instead turns her blank eyes to look at the tents and people milling about.

“Fine, I’m gonna go see what the new people are doing,” she exclaims and starts walking. The wyvern begins to follow, but Aisha quickly turns, “No, Frosty. I’ll go alone. You stay here and wait for me.”

The wyvern mewls.

“No, stay. I’ll come back later,” she announces and continues heading to the tents.

Marcia groans as the little girl walks away. She quickly looks around, seeing already a line of new [Soldiers] building up.

Then, she notices Abdel with a sword dangling at his side. The man looks very confused.

“Perfect. Abdel, right? I need you to follow Aisha and keep her safe. Don’t let anyone try to hurt her. I don’t want the whole camp destroyed because some idiot was swinging a sword.”

“Err, Ma’am-”

“Go,” she says and points.

Abdel complies and rushes after the child. The Wyvern named Frosty glares at him as he passes by, but does not move from its spot. It lays its head down on the ground and takes the opportunity to menacingly glare at every new [Soldier] that passes.

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“Hello, um, girl?” Abdel catches up to the scaled child who cocks her head and looks at him curiously. Now that he is closer to her, he notices that she has a bracelet on her arm.

“I’ve been ordered to accompany you.”

She gazes silently at him.

He gazes at her.

She continues staring.

He starts feeling very uncomfortable.

Then she smiles. “Okay. I’m Aisha,” she extends her hand, “It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Um, it’s Abdel,” he replies and shakes her hand. He is surprised at how soft the scales on her hand feel. They look rigid from a distance.

“Okay Abdelly, let’s go on an adventure. I’ll lead!” she swerves and starts marching. Abdel follows her as she leads.

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As they walk through the camp, he and the little girl get a great deal of attention. Most of it lands on Aisha, but some befuddlement (Confusion? Amusement?) makes its way to Abdel.

Maybe I can get some answers to some questions now.

“Aisha, if you don’t mind me asking, what species are you?”

She turns her head to him but continues walking. “I’m a Gejan.” she answers.

“And, uh, the horse people?”

“The four-legged, tall people are Centaurs and the huge horn people are Minotaurs and, uh, the fluffy tail people are Kitsune. My teacher is one of them. She is very strong but is super nice.”

She tilts her head. “You’re human, right? Like Quasy?”

“Quasy?”

“Our [King],” she answers with a smile, “He is the best and he calls me a princess,” she giggles.

As they continue deeper into the camp, they near a large tent with a red cross. A line of [Soldiers] are outside, waiting. All of them are wounded.

“What’s that?” Abdel asks.

“[Healers],” Aisha answers, “Come on!”

She leads the way around the back of the tent and then wriggles under the tent wall before Abdel can object. In a panic, Abdel follows her and finds himself in a partitioned-off corner of the medical tent, next to an altar to Eir.

Aisha peeks out through the partition’s flap, her tail slowly wagging. Yells and screams originate from the room beyond.

Abdel creeps up behind the tiny gejan and peers over her head. The tent proper looks like an antechamber to Hell. A dozen wounded human soldiers lie restrained on cots. Centaur healers drain infections, irrigate wounds, set bones, and stitch lacerations all without anesthetic.

One particularly unlucky soldier, the one on the cot nearest Abdel and Aisha, is being vivisected. Aisha watches with rapt attention, unfazed by guts or gore or screams. Her blind eyes track the motions of something only she can see as the healer carefully sorts through the man’s abdomen.

“Finally!” exclaims the healer as he pulls out a barbed arrowhead, “stitch this one up.”

Just then an orderly opens the partition to the shrine and catches Abdel.

“What are you doing here?” demands the centaur.

“Um,” Abdel looks around and sees the last of Aisha’s tail vanish under the tent wall.

“Are you hurt? If you’re not hurt, get out!”

The centaur grabs Abdel and throws him out the main entrance of the tent.

“Who’s next?” the orderly demands.

A nervous, pale, injured soldier catches his eye. The centaur grabs the injured man and drags him into the tent.

Abdel catches up to the mischievous gejan just before she can interrupt a soldiers’ game of dice.

“Come on, squirt,” he takes Aisha’s hand, “how about we go get something to eat?”

Aisha looks up at him, eyes and tail perky, and nods, then sniffs the air.

“That way!” She points.

They follow Aisha’s nose to the mess area. Several long tables are arrayed around a cooking cauldron, where a few [Soldiers] are lined up while a much larger number sits at the tables, eating.

“Ooooohhhh, food! Let’s go eat,” Aisha announces as she patters to the cauldron.

Abdel speeds up to keep pace, and the duo stops when they reach the pot. Aisha frowns. The cauldron is bigger than her, so much so that she gives up halfway through trying to scale it.

She then points at him. “Abdelly!”

She then points at the cauldron. “We need food.” she declares.

The [Soldiers] nearby snicker and chuckle.

Abdel sighs. He grabs two empty bowls and spoons from a nearby table and arrives.

The [Captain] frowns at the green stew. Green, of all the colors he has seen stew be, green is a first.

Abdel’s frown deepens when he sees small cuts of meat, which are also green. Other than the spicy smell, he really doesn’t think the food is edible.

“It looks weird, but it’s actually pretty good.”

Abdel turns to the speaker, finding a [Soldier], nay, a [Lieutenant] he actually recognizes.

“Istra, is that you?”

Isra smiles. His auburn hair stands out from the usual black or brown of most people.

“Yup, it’s me [Captain]. Glad to see you’re still with us. What’s with the kid?” He gestures to the small gejan.

Abdel shrugs and ladles two bowls of the green stew.

“She says she’s a princess.”

He hands one bowl to Aisha, who finds herself a seat next to a bunch of confused [Soldiers] and starts eating.

He sits next to her and starts digging in. The stew is spicy and flavorful. The meat is a bit slimier than usual, but it’s not bad.

“Not bad, right?” his buddy says while taking a seat on the other side of Aisha.

“Yea,” Abdel answers, “though I wonder what the meat is.”

“Itsh Myrshmerr,” Aisha answers with a rather large piece of meat in her mouth.

“What?” he asks.

Aisha swallows her food.

“Myrmer meat,” she answers and quickly takes another spoonful.

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Two hours later, the sun is setting and Aisha begins yawning.

“Hey, kiddo, I think it’s time we got you back home. I’m sure Frosty misses you.”

Aisha nods and Abdel leads her back to the Wyvern that has been patiently waiting. She mounts the beast. The Wyvern gives the captain one more icy glare before flying off with its charge.

Abdel releases a tired sigh.

With his mission completed, he heads to the center of the camp and enters the largest tent. A Gejan that looks like his scales are made of metal plates folds his arms when he enters.

“[Captain] Abdel, you’re late by several hours,” he says authoritatively. “I’m sure Marcia told you to meet with me immediately.” the big Gejan folds his arms.

Abdel swallows the spit in his throat as the hairs on his neck stand on end. Fear takes him as sweat forms on his brow. He can feel the anger emanating from the huge Gejan. The pressure is deep, powerful, and is starting to make him feel dizzy.

“S-sorry, sir. I was ordered to keep a child named Aisha safe. She wanted to see the whole camp.”

The pressure instantly abates as the Gejan relaxes and smiles. “Oh, was that it? Why didn’t you say so?” the Gejan chuckles, “She must have been pretty bored to come here.”

The Gejan shrugs. “Well, considering the camp is still standing, you did a great job.”

The big man turns and walks to a large chest. “Well, since it looks like you weren’t goofing off, I guess there’s no reason you can’t have this.”

He opens the chest and grabs a sack and throws it to Abdel.

The sack hits Abdel’s chest and almost knocks him over.

“Now then, there’s a set of armor in the bag, and a new uniform. You’ll be wearing that from now on. I can’t have my [Captains] walking around in rags.”

The Gejan taps his chin. “Now then, do you have any questions?”

Abdel frowns. The person before him seems… odd.

“May I have your name, sir?”

“Tails piss, of all the shit to forget-- Well, whatever. The name’s Darrow! I’m in charge of the infantry and am also your superior.”

His tail swishes as he looks at the open tent flaps. Night has already fallen.

“Well, seems like it’s a bit late. We’ll talk more in the morning. In the meantime, all of the tents to the left of mine are for my [Captains]. Choose one and go to sleep. I’ll need you bright and early in the morning.”

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Abdel chooses the closest tent to Darrow’s. Opening the large flap, what he finds impresses him. His residence has a full bed, a chest, a chair, a table, and even a mirror. The best thing of all is that it’s all his own. Abdel is barely over level fifty and only a year ago gained the [Captain] class while he served [King] Gravitus. Unfortunately, shortly after his class upgrade, Gravigrad was attacked and his [King] was slain. [King] Tersus had used him as a simple [Soldier] and had placed him in barracks with them.

With a sigh, he sits on the chair and opens the bag. He rummages inside and finds some nightclothes. He puts them on and closes the tent flaps. He leans into bed and quickly passes out, exhausted.

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A scream jolts Abdel awake. Several more screams follow, joining in a hellish choir of torment. He hops out of bed and grabs his sword, unsheathes it, and cracks open the tent flaps. He glances outside, but sees nothing.

Still, the screaming continues, alongside the sounds of roaring and heavy breathing. The sounds are coming from men, and a rather large number of them.

Slowly, he opens the flap and steps outside. His nightgown is thick, protecting his body from the chilly night air.

With sword at the ready, he follows the sounds to their sources, which are nearer than he expected.

When he reaches the spot, he is struck with a horrid smell of death and decay, as though a corpse was left out to rot for weeks on end.

Then his eyes get used to the night and he understands what’s happening.

By the Latrine, which is just a large dugout, squat several dozen [Soldiers], all of whom are groaning, sweating, screaming, and of course, shitting. Each and every [Soldier] looks like he’s in immeasurable pain as tears and snot come out of their faces.

One soldier, a bigger man, roars as he bends forward and releases a spray of green excrement.

“Oh,” he says as understanding dawns on him.

…

…

…

His stomach rumbles.