Drawing Lines

"These are messages for Captain Tusk..."

There was a hush in the room, filled with the remaining leaders as a clean young man with a satchel under his shoulder, held out a small roll of paper towards this small group.

Beacher, who was one of their former leaders Lieutenants, stepped forward to relay the word.

"He's... left us I'm afraid..."

The neat looking messenger frowned only a little.

"Then I guess these are for whoever is in charge here then..."

He scooped out another three rolled up paper letters and handed them all over, then he suddenly trotted over to Tracey, who was more than surprised by his arrival.

"And this one if for you; Miss Spikelet."

He apparently recognised her somehow, as he pulled another letter out and held it out for her to take it from him.

But looking at the small red seal of wax that kept it rolled up, Tracey didn't want to touch it, as that brand had the symbol for the Imperial Senate.

"Just leave it there..."

Tracey was pretending, more so now, to be analysing some scribbled together maps of the area, and glanced at the nearby table, where he dropped the paper, but then stood there waiting.

"I'll... read it later..."

The messenger looked at her with some shock.

"You're going to ignore a Senators summons?"

"Do you know that for certain?"

Tracey snapped back.

"It could be a congratulations; for a job well done..."

Tracey could see that no one in the room actually believed that was the case, but left the rolled paper with the official senate seal untouched on the table.

"I'll get to it when I do..."

She reluctantly said, to get rid of the deliverer, who nodded and scuttled away with his bag.

Tracey watched him exit the small house on the hillside, currently used as a 'command centre', when she caught sight of Amanda watching her, with worry in her light-blue eyes.

Beacher laughed, ending the silence, after reading all the letters he'd received.

"Ha... one denial for supplies, one confirmation, then another later denial... and one invitation for a Senatorial banquet... held two days after... we buried him back at the last village..."

Tracey wasn't sure if he was trying to lighten the mood, or just pointing out the hypocrisy.

"Somehow it amazes me that anything gets done..."

He didn't look Tracey's way, as she was still uptight and abrupt towards most at the moment, but before the lingering quiet took hold again, he found an excuse to leave.

"I'm going out there to make sure they drop everything off those wagons..."

"I'll help."

Desna, who'd been assisting Amanda one the other side of the room quickly jogged off after his fellow military officer, leaving the two women alone in the building, now guarded by the silent Dale outside the door.

Amanda eventually got up and crossed the floor, to sit on the edge of the table before the younger woman.

"You alright...? Because you've been a bit snappy all day..."

Tracey let the sketch go, and sighed heavily, ready to spill what had soured her mood.

"I... you know that weird guy who went missing?"

"Yeah, I briefly remember him acting oddly."

Tracey was glad it wasn't just her that had been given the creeps by his presence.

"Well I saw he had gone late in the night, so I followed him - to that little hut we passed, and confronted him when he tried to break in..."

Amanda stayed quiet and listened carefully.

"It turned out he was actually... Toby Salazar."

"Seriously?! What happened?"

Amanda drew nearer, very aware of the polar opposite ideals between them.

"We fought - and I defeated him... but then he refused my order..."

Tracey paused, while Amanda gulped a little and put her hand on Tracey's shoulder.

"Sometimes people do that I'm afraid, but he didn't hurt you or anything right?"

"I'm not injured..."

"But something else happened..."

Amanda knew her well.

"Yeah... rather than be taken captive by the Kibble guards - oh they were there by the way, hiding in that hut...."

"Probably lookouts."

"Probably... they were going to take him away - when he up and killed himself."

Amanda nodded.

"So he was not willing to be taken alive?"

"More like; he'd be unable to go on killing if he was locked up... at least that what I think he was yammering about."

Tracey was feeling a little upset, thinking back over his peculiar behaviour and twisted words, let alone his Kill Count.

"He had an obscene number... of..."

She didn't need to finish, as Amanda again squeezed her shoulder tenderly.

"At least he's no longer wandering about and hurting anyone anymore."

Pointing that out made Tracey feel a fraction better, and it felt slightly lighter having gotten that off her shoulders.

"So... about this letter here..."

Amanda looked briefly to the newest potential problem.

"I don't want to know, at least not today."

She glared at it, expecting some sort of annoying or worse message for her behind that seal.

"Do you want me to read it?"

Amanda offered with a smile, but Tracey didn't want to needlessly bother her now either.

"No... I'll get to it... eventually."

The pair was suddenly interrupted as a head peered back inside the open doorway.

"Sorry... Miss Spikelet... or uh, Hero?"

"Tracey is more than fine."

She clarified to the shyer and inexperienced Hugo, who'd come back.

"We need you, for just a moment..."

Tracey sighed again, but she and Amanda trudged down the small grassy hill to the village, to find some sort of problem with

I have enough to deal with already...

Walking down the sloped green hillside, Tracey was escorted by the small group, down to the village, and to the recently arrived convoy, that needed her presence.

"Apparently they need permission... from you too, for all the delivery to be unloaded..?"

Hugo ruffled his short dark hair, not fully understanding what he relayed to her.

"Maybe... some is for our group?"

Amanda added.

"But there's barely enough for who we have left here and now..."

The four reached the hub of activity, to find a grumpy man guarding the lead wagon, who watched their slack approach with disapproval.

"Spikelet?"

The lanky bald guy with glasses asked, still standing up on the loaded wagon.

"That's me."

"Can you prove it?"

He wasn't impressed by her appearance, or maybe her youth either, folding his arms before him unconvinced.

"Here... this then-!"

Tracey noticed something was off with her revealed parchment, which was all this other man needed to proceed.

"That'll be all... I... need...?"

Tracey had quickly dashed away, to a far more private area, between two homes, to again flash up her 'stats' for herself.

What's going on here...!? How can this be...?!

She couldn't believe her eyes as she scanned it again; Tracey Spikelet - V: 638, D: 2, KC: 1.

"It has to be a mistake!"