Chapter 72: Go On

Chapter 72: Go On

My journey to the office was slow, my awareness mostly inward due to the pain, leaving little attention for my surroundings. Upon my arrival, Piers greeted me, asking, "You okay, Boss?"

"Yeah," I responded. "Anything new?"

"A couple of requests for credit extensions, a request for a meeting from someone named Corv, nothing else."

I grumbled. "Any idea what Corv wants?"

"To hire you."

"Thank him and put him off. I'm occupied for the next week, perhaps two. I'll review the requests later."

"Understood."

"And inform Thorne I need to see him."

I hung up my cloak and eased into my chair. Then I reclined and shut my eyes, and Thorne asked, "You all right, Boss?"

"Considering the circumstances, yes."

"Good. What are we considering?"

"I got ambushed."

I opened my eyes. I scanned the room for Thorne and found him in the chair opposite me. He was gazing at me with intense focus, probably assuming we were about to be entangled in some Vorgan affairlike someone encroaching on my territory. I stated, "I got ambushed by three Dragonlords."

"Fenghuang Guards?"

"No. This wasn't about the Organization. They were Dragonlords acting as Dragonlords, and their business was ambushing me."

He leaned back, his expression shifting from concern to surprise.

"Really? That's not something every Vorgan can claim. Where did it occur?"

"Right in my own blasted flat."

"Hmmm," he mused. "Care to elaborate?"

I did. He said, "To a Dragon, it's different"

"I'm aware. I'm not a Dragon."

"Ah." He scrutinized me. "So now you're determined to hunt down Cernan?"

"Yes."

"Have you thought that the attack might have been designed to provoke you into going after him?"

"Yes. It has crossed my mind. It could even be true. But do you think it's probable?"

"I wouldn't know. But earlier, you mentioned"

"I understand. But there's a difference between being mindful of complex schemes and lies unfolding around you and allowing paranoia about deception to incapacitate you."

He examined his thumb. "I don't have any concrete ideas yet. We lack information. But if Drevolan really intends to attack"

"He does. He's planning to appoint Alyssra Volade as his chief general."

Thorne expressed admiration. "In that case, you could possibly sabotage Cernan to aid Drevolan. There are several options. An army is more fragile than it seems. Simply destroy a list of essential supplies, and you've created enough chaos to give him trouble. Or sneak in and burn some maps. Or have someone impersonate an officer and send troops the wrong way. Or"

"I think I grasp the concept."

He nodded. "Once we have more details, we can be more precise."

"I'm attempting to envision myself as a saboteur."

"I'm imagining it, too. And I'm trying not to chuckle."

"Much appreciated."

He shrugged. "So, he riled you up, and you want payback. You're in a fix. If you have a better plan, I'm all ears."

"I can always eliminate him."

"That's another option."

I added, "If you figure out how to turn a profit on this, let me know."

"That's simple. Drevolan might reward you for it."

"Do you reckon?"

"Perhaps."

He shook his head. "Has anyone ever mentioned to you that seeking revenge is ill-advised?"

"No, Thorne," I retorted. "That was omitted from my lessons."

"Guess it's too late now," he noted.

The next memory I have is maneuvering around, striving to stay vigilant and survive. The initial conflict had ended, leaving many casualties. The situation was dispersed. I no longer saw Fael or Aeldor, but I spotted Speransky, enthusiastically immersed in the chaos. Our banners were still flying, held by a woman I didn't recognize; Gunn was either incapacitated or gone. I hoped he was content; he had achieved his desire.

There was no organized battle line, just sporadic skirmishes here and there, with many of us, from both factions, either seeking a fight or hoping to avoid one.

This, I reckon, is where the essence of battle truly counts. If we had more of it, I'd be striving harder to slay someone. If they were more spirited, I wouldn't have had the luxury of staying on the battle's outskirts. At one point, I spotted fresh blood on my sword and wondered where it came from.

The issue was that my comrades fought for each other. Partly to preserve each other's lives and partly because they were familiar with one another, had prepared together, and none wanted to be the lone deserter. I had shared enough with them to understand that camaraderie kept them going. But I hadn't trained with them, didn't know them personally, and even then, I wasn't entirely sure why I hadn't fled. I was still puzzled as to what made me stay the first time the enemy rushed us over hastily erected barricades.

There was a brief respite, and I reveled in it. Odd, right? I was potentially in the most danger I'd ever faced, yet I remember the joy I felt when there were moments nobody was attempting to kill me. Long moments, several seconds at a time.

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