Volume 1, Chapter 9

By NFDoggo

The sun began to fade behind the distant mountains, bathing the tent in beautiful golds and reds even as the night’s shadows began their dance. A half dozen Legionnaires shuffled anxiously, arguing in hushed tones as Fighter looks on from the edge of the tent. A familiar scene. Having risen quickly at Friend’s side, Fighter knew better than to interject. These Legionnaires were in a league of their own and Fighter understood that their presence, and nothing more, would be tolerated here and so sat casually on a storage crate, picking at his teeth.

“Report,” Fighter turned to see Friend enter, now wearing the red, embroidered heraldry of a senior officer.

The tent was silent for the briefest of moments before the tent erupted into chaos as the Legionnaires voiced their concerns in a cacophony of ill tidings. Fighter watched as the officers turned on one another, ignoring Friend as they turned to shout their objections across the table in the middle of the room on which rested a beautiful battle map that belied the story that it told.

“Bunch of FUD if you ask me, sir,” Fighter laughs, offering Friend a half-hearted salute from his perch on the crate as their superior officer approaches.

“It’s like they’ve forgotten that I’m even in the room.” Friend laughs, clasping Fighter on the shoulder. “Tell me, how bad is it, really?”

“Oh me?” Fighter feigns shock, bringing their hand to their chest. “But I’m a simple solder, sir, I wouldn’t deign to have an opinion on such matters as they are above my station.” Friend rolls their eyes. “How many times have you gone back and tried to have a productive conversation with these fools?”

“A few,” Friend sighs, taking a glass of wine off a nearby table before taking a seat next to Fighter. “I’ve wasted more Magic than I care to admit.”

“It must be bad if you’ve decided to come and ask me for help,” Fighter takes Friend’s wine, gulping it down. “Well, if I’m being honest, and you know how much that pains me, it’s really not that bad. You’ve been assigned an incredible team of officers, I mean these Legionnaires are all class, but…” Fighter hesitates, eyes scanning the impressive gathering.

“Look, they’ve done an excellent job and despite how bad the lines on that map look, the Legion can handle this, we can take the Harvester, but your officers are distracted, fighting each other.” Fighter stands to stretch their legs.

“She,” Fighter points to the closest Legionnaire, an imposing woman fitted in massive plate armor, “was next in line to take control of a Legion of her own. I don’t know the details but he,” Fighter nods toward a Legionnaire across the table, face hidden in the shadows of their cloak, “contested her claim and now they’re stuck here working for you. I suspect that the only thing that they agree on is that they should be in charge, not you.” Fighter sighs, “I’m sorry, this probably isn’t helpful.”

“No,” Friend motions for an aide to bring them more wine, “tell me more.” And so, Fighter talked, and Friend listened, until the sun’s last dancing lights were swallowed by darkness.

“Thank you, old friend, that is exactly what I needed to hear.” Friend stands, reaching into the pockets of their cloak.

“Seriously? It’s just odds and ends, really, tidbits I picked up listening to these idiots prattle on.”

“It’s all about focus.” Friend pulls out a pocket watch, rolling it over in their hands. “If they’re too busy fighting each other, then they cannot do their job and this Legion is much like this watch, a complicated machine with layers comprised of a myriad of different, interdependent parts. I’m just one person, I need everyone to do their part or none of this works.”

“So, what are you going to do this time?” Fighter asks as Friend closes their eyes and takes a deep breath. A bright light winds its way down Friend’s arms and into the pocket watch in their hand, a red and green light, like smoke, rises from it, filling the air around them.

“I’m going to get their attention.” Friend grins and the world distorts, spinning around them.

**

The sun began to fade behind the distant mountains, bathing the tent in beautiful golds and reds even as the night’s shadows began their dance. A half dozen Legionnaires shuffled anxiously, arguing in hushed tones as Fighter looks on from the edge of the tent. A familiar scene.