Beyond the battlefield

The boy’s vision was still red from his onslaught. He slowly started to regain some of his senses, still far deep in confusion. A quick scan tried to fetch for any kind of useful information, to no avail. Two figures were crouched in front of him, surrounded by a pile of bones of the beings that once threaten them, completely static. A third figure stood at the far distance, trying not to move towards the scene. The scout tried to focus on their faces but they were foggy to his mind. It was a minute that lasted an eternity. Broken by a tremble voice of a man.

“T-Thank you, Mister Mikael”

A flare of wrath reignited the boy’s character. He returned to a combat stance, with axe and hammer in hand.

“No! We don’t want wandered until the night.”

The boy’s breathing intensified.

“What’s wrong with him Rookie?”, asked a woman’s voice in panic

“Harriet Bridget! Come back!”, a man’s voice shouted in distance

The figures form became clear.

“Are you ok?”, the tanned woman with a goatee asked

“Hey, Mister more? What about that time we just want to know your name”, said the tall mixed blood bearded man

“Don’t get any closer!”, yelled the small westerner at the distance

“AWAY!”, the scout howled with a foaming mouth

“There’s some something we all agree aggressiveness. It doesn’t seem right.”, spoke the short western man as he raised and distanced himself from the boy.

“Sergeant Tenant, we don’t know what is this going on. Call the Commander Captain and the old man, Mikael Emmanuel”, shouted the gigantic girl with a prosthetic leg

“Are you two insane? He’s clearly a rogue rookie, can you fetch some firewood?”, exclaimed the old lady covered in scars as she ran towards the two soldiers

“I’M DONE WITH YOU!”, the boy screeched, jolting to attack the two humans near him. With a single step, his body gave in and he passed out.

The boy’s consciousness remain dormant until a distant discussion awakened it.

“How’s our friend doing?”, a man asked

“Don’t ever call that freak that. The rogue tried to David and Bridget”

“That ain’t far, Thom. First, he saved them both. Second, he wasn’t in his own mind.”

“It doesn’t change shit.”

“Can the two dumbasses shut the hell up? I’m trying to work and my patient got to sleep”, a woman intervened

“What…?

“Way to go, dumbasses…”

“Hey friend, welcome back.”

As the blurriness of his sight ceased, the boy found himself laid on a thin mattress, inside a tent. He tried to raise his body and check the sources behind the voices, barely getting his back out of the floor for about a second or two, and falling back to his bed as the forgotten sensation of pain returned to him. Within a single glimpse, he noticed that none of the people in there were familiar to him. It as trio of mixed southkin. Their skin was dark as rocks of the barren and their hair was curly and brown. The three weren’t much taller than their observer and their eyes weren’t as wide as expected from their bloodline. An armored men stood by the exit with arms crossed and a cranky face, his hair was so short it was practically bald. The other two wore tunics and mantles but no protection, the man flaunted a mane as fluffy and light as a cloud, opposed to his heavier physique, in constrast to the woman’s slender frame and restrained hair, tied in the shape of a pompom at the back of her head, that sat by a minuscule desk at the same wall as the two.

“Take it easy friend.”, said the man as he walked towards the scout and sat on the floor by his side, with his legs crossed, “Commander Emmanuel, nice to meet ya. The lady over there is Simone and the other one is Thomas. Don’t mind him.”

“Screw you. I’m done with this shit.”, Thomas complained as he left the tent.

“He’s like that. Most of the time…”

“Away Emman, it’s too early for question.”

“Just a tiny bit ma’am.”

“Out.”

“Alright, I’ll come back later then.”, Emmanuel replied, reading himself to stand

“Wait…”, the boy asked

“Oh! Sure! Wanna talk?”

“Emman…”

“Hey! He wants it, doctor. Shouldn’t we take care of the patient’s requests?”

“I don’t care what you or that dumbass want, he got to rest.”

“Where… Where am I?”

Simone slammed her desk and sighed, “Whatever…”

“At our outpost”, Emmanuel responded

“Where…?”

“Ah! Deep into the desert, almost in the barren boarder.”

“Where… are… they…?”

“They? There was no one else, just you, friend. You appeared out of nowhere in a blink of an eye, right behind our enemies and took all of them down in a flash. People said it was scary.”

“I… I don’t…”

“Remember? We thought so. Seems like you were high on centipede…”

“What…?”

“Centipede poisoning…”, Simone interjected, “The excessive consumption of centipede can lead to psychic alterations such as general confusion, visual and auditory hallucinations, among other things. It’s mostly common to happen with the underage and can be avoided by cooking the meat or simply by drinking a lot of water, which likely was your case. Some fools like the dumbass near you enjoy…”

“Thank you doctor!”, Emmanuel interrupted, trying to hide his embarrassment, “So, what else do you want to know? Mister… Xavier, right?”

“Xavier…?”

“Yes. You grunted that when we asked. I guess you were still way far to remember.”

“That…”

“Enough Emman!”, Simone intervened, “Can’t you see his condition?! Let him rest!”

“Alright, alright. Sorry for disturbing you, friend.”, He apologized before making his exit, “Oh yeah! Your stuff is safe. We’ll take care of the offerings and food for you, ok?”

Three days had passed. The scout spent most of his time transiting between the short frivolous chatting sessions with his most loyal visitor and unconsciousness. His psyche was still tormented by the ghost of his former unit.

“Come on sleeping beauty. Let’s see how you’re doing”, said the doctor as she pressed the boy’s recently healed injuries, “How’s the pain?”

“A one, two maybe”

“Only the right shoulder?”

“Yeah…”

“Well…”, her tone dried, “It probably will stay like this… There’s not much I can do.”

“Thanks doctor.”

“Oh! Is he good to go?”, Emmanuel asked as he raised the tent’s opening.

“It’s a bit hasty to discharge him.”

“What a shame, I was hoping he could help with supplies.”, the commander jested.

“It’s not that…”, she gestured Emmanuel to follow her outside the tent, continuing in a confide, “His body is mostly fine but his mind…”

“How bad is it?”

“Hard to know. I’d keep him under observation just in case. It can range from a long term impairment from his intoxication to a permanent one, or even some sort of trauma…”

“Wouldn’t it be better to let him loose then?”

“That’s up to you. He’s stable for now. Doesn’t strike as the aggressive kind.”

“Alright, let’s try that.”

Emmanuel guided the boy with all the ceremony from the medical tent to the four corners of their encampment, providing detailed information on every single one of their tents and the twenty or so men that composed his unit of mixed southkin and eastkin, with an occasional pure blood. Their camp was about half the size of Nikolai’s, but composed of three to four times more tents, with portable individual units for each one of the soldiers. The atmosphere was placid and cheerful, almost as a settlement, inconceivably so for an installation that had been stationed for about three full moons near the edge of the desert. Adding to the list of abnormalities, all of their fabric was pristine, at least for the current standards, to the point the excessive brightness of the camp came to hurt the boy’s eyes. From what he could notice, it was used everywhere, tents, clothes, bandages, bed sheets and even the canvases that Simone used to write. None of it was ragged or patched, in fact it seemed like they were recently crafted. The boy couldn’t help himself not to be distracted by it, leaving the poor commander to ramble his elaborate discourse to the winds. Emmanuel took notice of his guest’s wandering gaze and changed the subject.

“Amazed by our artistry, I see.”

“Your people, they made this?”

“Yes. That’s our own and only star product, we call it silk.”

“It sounds… familiar… ”

“Oh! Friend is a bookworm?”

“Some would say so…”, the boy replied with a hint of embarrassment

“I see. It’s the same material as the one from the ancient times, or as close as it can be. Our settlement discovered a way to recreate it about a sun or two ago. It’s the first fabric made by the modern men, well… technically by bugs, but… you get the idea.”

“Watch your damn mouth, Emman!”, Thomas grunted behind the two, a couple of steps away.

“Good morning, Thom.”

“Morning my shit hole. What the hell are you doing with the rogue?”

“First, we don’t know who he is. Second, as I said a million times before. He. Saved. Your. Men.”

“And he might do otherwise that at any moment. If he’s good to walk, he’s good to leave”

Emmanuel squinted and continued, “I appreciate your concerns but our friend here isn’t completely fit for a safe journey.”

“Cut the crap, you saw his stuff. That shield ain’t his!”

“I know… and I’m sure he can clarify that, right?”, Emmanuel twisted his head to the boy with a majestic smile.

The two looked at the boy for a while, expecting him to talk.

“Sorry. You mean now… ?”

“Hahahah! See Thom, how can a man like him be a rogue?”, Emmanuel giggled

“I’m still waiting…”

For the longest time the boy didn’t had time to ponder upon these matters. Not once have he thought about how to explain the events that took place in the marshlands. Who would believe that some of the most notorious warriors of his time would betray mankind? Or that he managed to survive alone in the barren more than a couple days. Of course the first thing one would expect is for be to be a rogue, the kind of man that backstabs its own brothers for personal gain and take advantage of those who crossed his path. It would be foolish to say anything that could tie him back to the traitors, for the safety of their hosts and his own.

“That shield belonged to the tenant of my unit…”, the boy replied with a faint voice, “He lost it in combat.”

“Convenient, no? I bet he lost more than a shield”

“Me and my unit… we got… separated…”

“Is that so?”, Thomas continued

“Thomas…”

“A horde… They attacked us, at the barren. I was their scout. I got stranded. Couldn’t reach them…”

“Cut the shit.” Thomas responded, tilting his head up in disdain, “A freak like you could easily force your way.”,

“I… I wasn’t a fighter back then, that’s why I took the role.”

“You dipshit!”

“I mean it!”, the boy’s eyes sharpened, filled by a mix of anger and sadness, “I couldn’t face a single ghoul. I had to learn to survive.”

“Alone…?”, Emmanuel questioned

“Yes…”, the scout’s voice quivered

Silence dominated the air once more. Thomas and Emmanuel initiated an eloquent silent exchange for about a minute. Their necks and heads moved as their eyes, eyebrows, mouths and cheeks moved and distorted in all sorts of forms, sometimes accompanied by shoulders and shy hands. Ultimately the two reached truce and parted sights.

“I’m sorry, friend… We didn’t meant to.”

“I still don’t buy this shit… but I’ll leave you be. For now.”, Said Thomas as discretely left the two.

“Are you still looking for them?”

“I… just want to go home…”, the boy murmured

“Come on, friend… If you made it they must have done it too. You’ll find them… eventually. It’s not like they’re gone, right?”

“… Yeah…”

“Alright… Let’s see… Silk! Yes! Our fabric is made by…”, Stopped Emmanuel, noticing the absence of his guest, “Why… don’t you take some rest…?”

“Thanks…”

Over the following week, the scout secluded himself at the outskirts, avoiding every kind of interaction with the soldiers, specially his host, only showing up around the meal time and at the offering hour. It was mostly sand all over the place. Each morning the dunes were every slightly different. Far in the horizon a glimpse of the barren could be seen, with a construction near the place where the sand ends. Most of the time his mind spiraled in thoughts of a past of possibilities, where his brothers still fought along him. He questioned if his own weakness as a soldier lead his people to abandon humanity. What could have he done to change their fate? Could he stop it if he were as strong as he became? Did he failed them? When?

Eventually a soldier or a ghoul in the distance would drag him back to the present. He observed their movements as roamed through the desert, curious about what they tried to achieve, and even why their camp haven’t moved already. There were only thee field groups in the unit. The first group would leave to the barren by the daybreak and return minutes before sunset, completely worn out, and the second one took care of the camp duties for an hour or two, the last staid put to handle enemies nearby. By the following morning each of the groups rotated with the next in line, an exhausting day of labor followed by two with a couple of minor errands. Wicked were hardly a problem, only a few appeared during his sightings, never in groups larger than four.

The boy’s offerings and meals were prepared for him, using the resources of Emmanuel’s unit, however, he noticed that their offerings were exclusively bone. It took about half a fist of flesh to satisfy the collectors at their boarder, with a few trips to the barren they should meet their quota. Oddly enough, all of the flesh he collected through the barren was still inside his carrier. He knew his belongings had been sorted since all of his centipede had been replaced by local bugs. It wasn’t a matter of resources but rather a choice. Sinister thoughts crossed his mind, he had to investigate.

He waited a couple more days, until his body was fully recovered, to sneaked inside the supply tent at the dead of night. Their supply tent was the largest one in the outpost, and the ones with the thinnest silk, giving a vague contour of the items inside. For his surprise, they had no one guarding it. Their unit used ivory boxes instead of the usual carriers, and they stacked on top of sleds made of the same material, disposed in the tent’s walls. Two piles of crates divided the space into three corridors. Every container was sealed and marked with letters and numbers, perfectly organized.

His inspection started at the middle corridor. It took him a good while to open the first box, and even more time to understand how to seal it back, that contained a large stash silk clothes and nothing else. The one below was filled with fabric for tents, as indicated by the poles that were stored near it. Next were the bedsheets, pillowcases, bandages, canvas sheets, bags, ropes, strings and many other small utility items in an excessive amount, some to be considered luxuries, unusual for sure but not alarming. The right wall was were they stored their ingredients, a bunch of six crates, most of them below a quarter of their capacity, in contrast to the one that contained bones, in opposite proportion. His suspicions were reaffirmed when he neared the back wall, where a vile stench impregnated the air. It came from a pack of twelve, all carrying the same matter. He opened the crate to cast away his doubts. They hoarded the flesh of the unliving.

A single instant of exposure to the putrid smell refreshed his memories, bringing him back to the day of ruin. His body response was too much for him to handle. Blood pumped at a violent rate, soon his breath accelerated and chill of night escalated into a glacial veil, his character shivered uncontrollably and an urge to puke wrestled its way out, all of them gradually intensifying. He tried to return to his senses but the elements before his eyes were too striking for him to ignore. The boy had to do something.

“I’ll take it away. No! I will take too much time. What if I burn it? Idiot, they’ll wake up. NO! I have to stop them. I won’t let the wicked to take more of our people. Wait… Could it be that… They already sided with them? Impossible, they’re still fighting them, or are they not? Maybe… Maybe I should kill them…”, thought the boy, as his psyche was consumed by his own delusions. He scrapped his head with both hands, faster and faster, making it heard from afar.

“Hey!”, a familiar voice asked

The boy twisted his body towards the exit, finding a shadowy figure carrying a torch, Its shape was blurry to his sight. He leaped forward, aiming for its neck, falling directly at the floor as the shade stepped sideways. The impact dispelled his madness and with it the doctor appeared, staring him downwards with a concerned look.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He remained mute

“Answer me. I don’t want to bring Emman into this.”

“I was… checking your stock.”

“Who could have though…?”, she sarcastically replied

The persisted in silence, trying not to compromise himself

Simone sighed, “Here’s the deal, dumbass. You have two options. A. Explain yourself and maybe I’ll pretend weren’t here, or B. I’ll tell Emman and Thomas that you sneaked in here and you’ll get kicked out. If you’re luck the major dumbass will let you stay until dawn. Your choice. I’ll give you… ten seconds to pick A.”

“Your offerings… they’re bone…”, he murmured

“What? For the heroes, speak it out loud”

“You have flesh! Why don’t you use it? A dozen crates.”, he questioned, visibly disturbed, increasing his voice, “Do you think they’re what? Food?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what they are…”

“WHAT?”, the boy instantly turned red

“Oh… Emman haven’t told you… That dumbass.”, she replied while taking notice of his excessive alteration. Simone grabbed him by the wrist and directed herself to the left wall, “Stay calm, they’re sensitive”

The woman dragged the boy to a corner with six sets of boxes, each one with two modules. A faint swooshing sound could be heard from inside. She removed the lid, exposing a community of worms on top of a silk screen.

“Sorry for being late. Mommy is here.”

He observed in confusion.

“These babies are our master craftsmen.”

“I… don’t get it…”

“They’re silkworms.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”, contested the boy

“You dumbass”, she covered the box and left to the back wall, fetching a handful of flesh from one of the boxes, “They got to eat as well.”

An instant of relief dispelled the dark feelings that loomed over his body. Somehow they managed to find an use for flesh.

“Aren’t they Mommy’s prettiest worms? Yes, they are.”, Simone rejoiced while showering the maggot with bits of flesh.

“How…? How is it made?”

“You see, these worms will deliberately eat the rot until they can fit the palm of your hand, then they’ll build a cocoon and, after about two weeks, they’ll tear a hole in the shell with their new body.”, she digressed as she picked a bunch of critters with her left hand. Her gaze was completely fixated them, “They spend most of their life absorbing all of the worst that this world have to offer, growing ever larger and stronger, and after a mysterious transformation they turn into something even prettier”, she sighed and continued, “At last, we extract the remaining fibers and weave them into silk.”

“Something so small can do all of that?”

“They don’t produce that much fiber, and they aren’t doing that for us. That’s nothing more than their own life cycle.”

“How did you figured it out?”

“Eastkin knowledge. It took several generations of our settlement to find this species. If the knights can raise bugs why can’t we do it as well?”

“Wait… What about the moths? You just set them free?”

“Interesting… Well, we let them in their own place until they lay eggs. They only last up to a week.”

“Then…?”

“We eat them, obviously.”

“Come on, I know you’re messing with me.”, the boy replied with a confident smile.

Simone starred at him, perplexed, “I’m serious. In fact, it was today’s dinner.”

His stomach revolted and soon his mind focused on keeping his last meal inside.

“Oh, sunshine. I guess you are, indeed, a dumbass.”

“All of you have been eating them?!”, he fiercely inquired

“Let me teach you something about the living. Creatures eat each other all time. We eat stuff that eats other stuff.”

“But the flesh of the wicked…”

“Feeds most, if not all, of the bugs we eat.”, she interrupted

“Excuse me!?”

“What did you expect? For them to feed on sunlight? Yes, dumbass. The same scarabs you see on the desert and the centipedes that got you wasted eat the flesh of the wicked. The only difference is the amount and how their bodies handles the impurities. That’s why some don’t do zilch to your body and others can kill you.”

“No…”, he denied in disbelief

Her logic was so precise and simple that the boy couldn’t refute. There was no reason for her to lie, specially over such a serious matter. They had to eat on something, and the only source of food in these lands is either human or wicked flesh.

“But the academy never…”

“Taught it?”, the doctor interrupted, “There’s no point in doing so. It would only shock the younglings.”

“Then… why don’t we…?”

Simone froze. She took a last look at the worms that played on her hand before returning them. The doctor looked at the box for a couple of seconds, trying to understand why boy’s mind brought him that questioning. She looked directly at his eyes and answered with a serious demeanor.

“Because it kills us, 100% guaranteed. Like a deadly poison.”

“If it’s poison it can be treated, right? Even cured?! Is there a time limit?”, asked the boy, tugging his left arm in agitation

The heretic words were uttered with such tenderness that the woman was put in stasis. She felt like a dark entity lurked out of her interlocutor’s frame and came to embrace her whole being, ready to tear her apart and yet the a vestige of wonder sprout from within. The aspect of Simone’s face was taken by an equal share of dread and excitement.

“You…? You saw it…?”, Simone turned to a long morbid laughter, “I pity you… No… It acts kills in a similar way to poison, but it’s something completely different. From the few records we have, it is known to be irreversible. Depending on the consumption the person can die in a few minutes or last up to a full day.”

Her response shut him down for a little, but soon he persisted, “Hey, doctor… Do you think… there’s a way… to revert them?”

“The dead…?”

“Yes.”

“To obtain the power of the wicked?”

“No… Just to bring them back to their former selves.”

“Even in theory it doesn’t even make sense… The decay process starts at the moment the person dies. You can’t fix something that isn’t whole.”

“Let’s say it is”, he eagerly continued, “Could they…?”

“No. They can’t. When the worms enter the cocoon stage, their old body melts and they shape something anew. They can’t turn back. How could a human? It’s absurd to think you can undo death. No even the wicked can…”

“Yeah… You’re right. Thanks, doctor”, spoke the boy, devoided of emotion

“Accept life as it is”, said Simone in melancholy, as she returned her attention to the worm containers. After a while she continued, “There’s nothing better for a good night of sleep than long monologue. Good night, silkworm.”

“Good…”, he stopped his sentence after hearing some noise from the outside, leaving to his tent as quick and quiet as he could.