Foreign Influence

After a long winter, the boy finally got a peaceful night of sleep. He met his old comrades on his dreams, but this time they appeared as their human selves, full of joy, full of life. They commuted with Emmanuel’s unit, delighting a massive feast in the outdoors, where the silkworms graciously climbed the soldiers and moths hovered over their heads. He was standing a few steps away from the others and soon the will to reach them emerged. The boy tried to step forward but his feet were stuck in a web, extending halfway up to his shins, slowly growing upwards. Both groups continued chatting, neither distancing nor reaching for him. He shouted for help. All of them looked at him with a serene expression, as if the told him that everything would be fine. Soon the boy woke up, he wasn’t frightened nor disturbed, just slightly anguished, unsure if due to his paralysis or the fleetness of his dream.

A group of four soldiers greeted him as soon as he stepped out the tent. Emmanuel had dispatched an order to all of his subordinates on the previous night, demanding them to find the scout and bring him to his office. He had been trying to reach the boy since their last conversation so badly that he started to wake up a little earlier each following morning in a frustrated attempt of finding the boy at his tent. There was no repression, nor violence, just a casual walk to the Commander’s tent with an escort. The tent wasn’t different from the other soldiers, just slightly larger, with a desk right at the middle and a distant mattress at the corner that was likely moved every night and morning to accommodate Emmanuel’s needs throughout the day.

“Great heroes of old, he’s finally here.”, said Emmanuel leaning on his desk, coming to fix his posture in the following moment, “Good morning, friend.”

“Good morning, Sir.”

“Just call me Emman, please. I don’t like these soldier things…”

“But you introduced yourself as Commander Emmanuel.”

Emmanuel sighed, “Yes… Commander… It’s just a title. I’m actually a researcher, same as Simone.”

“Not surprised. I wouldn’t expect to see a high officer in a tunic. But you are the one in charge, right?”

“Of the project? Yes. Of our troops? It’s complicated.”

“Thomas?”

“He’s the next in the hierarchy. Our local Sergeant.”

“I see…”

“Yeah, yeah, our command line is… special… Anyway, we have some important business to discuss. I need your help”, he said as his expression and tone stiffened, “I’m not sure if you noticed but our unit is one of a kind. We were given an unique directive, to employ our resources in the expansion of our settlement’s silk production and right now we need to…”, Emmanuel stopped with a blank face, “No, no, no, no, no. I’m sorry, friend. I forgot to tell you about the silk and…”

“Relax… Emman… the doctor showed me all of it.”, the boy interrupted

Emmanuel slowly blinked once, then twice in a quick succession, before continuing, “Ahem! My superiors formed this unit to expand our silk farms. Our goal is to harvest as much flesh as we can and catch incorporate any silkworm we find in our path, which is why I want to acquire all the flesh you own, in a fair trade of course, and additionally request your help in the field as a temporary member of our unit”, he lowered his head and started twirling his fingers, “This is just a small step towards a larger operation and it can easily be shut down if don’t return with a full cargo. Our supplies are starting to run low, we might be able to endure another moon or two but we’re facing a major risk.”

“Is that an order, Emman?”

The Commander giggled, “No, just a friendly request. We’ll have to return eventually but maybe a helping hand that knows the barren could shorten our trip by a couple of days, perhaps a week? Plus, it would be handy to have a heavy name vouching for a transportation with the Order.”

It was an offer he couldn’t refuse. The boy didn’t had a schedule to adhere, nor had any idea of what would be of him once he returned home. Being lost in the barren at his own devices made him rethink his methods, after all Emmanuel and his crew ended up saving him from madness. It was too big of a risk to keep his journey alone and now the chance to travel in a group presented itself in a golden platter.

“In short, If I run a couple errands for you I get a free convoy ride back home?”

“You could say that…”, he giggled, “We’ll still need you to fight on our way back. Will you do it?”

“I don’t see a reason not to.”

“Great, I knew I could count on you, friend.”

“Now that you mentioned, where are you guys from?”

The duo was abruptly interrupted by Thomas, storming the place without a warning.

“You got to be shitting me.”

“I’m glad you respect my privacy.”

“I’d be glad if respected my shit.”

“See, friend? That’s what I have to deal with every single day… What do you want, Thom?”

“My men told me that you ordered them to bring the freak here. Somehow, I didn’t got the memo.”

“A busy man like you shouldn’t be bothered by trivial matters.”

Thomas’ forehead veins popped, “So you’re saying that the way I conduct my men and who answers me is trivial?”

“Dear heroes… How did you even reach that conclusion?”

“Don’t shit on me. I heard you talking to the freak. I’m not taking him.”

“First, I’m the one in charge. Second, he’ll work for me, not you”, Emmanuel replied, visibly irritated, “Third, stop calling him a freak. His name is…”, he paused and faced the scout with a blank expression, “...Xavier?”

The boy waited as the two turned to stare him, “Yes, Xavier”, he replied on instinct, hoping his long parted friend wouldn’t mind it.

“See, he has a name. Use it.”

“You piece of shit. I already told you before, we need to move our outpost out of the desert. We can’t find that many ghouls with flesh in here anymore.”

“It’s not safe…”

“If I may…”, Xavier interrupted

“WHAT?”

“Thom… Let him speak…”

“I don’t recall much of the time I spent alone but I do remember fighting a bunch of them before meeting you. We’d have to advance a lot to find more of them, not to mention firewood, food and… water.”

“Wonderful. That’s it, I’m ordering a retreat…”, said Thomas as he turned to leave the tent, visibly frustrated

“No! Wait Thom, there has to be another option.”

“I’m done, shithead. This operation is over.”

“Have you… explored the manor?”, the boy questioned

Thomas stopped. He clenched his fist so hard it caused minor bleeding, as he tried with all of his heart to leash his anger far from their guest. The Sergeant walked back to face Xavier, stopping after bumping foreheads.

Ruins were somewhat present through the barren and the desert. They were monuments of old, mostly castles and fortresses, sometimes a small building that might have been a house, an oasis of hope amidst the harsh environment. The large ones were the exact opposite, dungeons filled with wicked and traps, so much the academies instructed the upcoming generations to avoid them at all cost. It was almost guaranteed that they’d meet their quota there but at what cost?

“Please, tell me how you’ll get my men killed so I can finally have an excuse to hit your shitty face.”

“Thomas…”, Emmanuel contested

“Shut up, shithead.”

“A single team. Me, you and two, maybe three, of your best men. We’ll get in and move to a narrow point, I get inside and drag the excess to your people so we can fight on evens. Rinse and repeat.”

Thomas slowly blinked to the boy and responded, “That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard… Well done. You won. I don’t even want to punch you anymore. We’re packing up, now.”

“You’ll just quit then?”

“Listen up, dipshit. You don’t know how many of them are there nor how many traps they have, how their base is or even if your shit ass plan can work. Hell, you don’t even know how many guards they have on the outside! I’m not dragging my men into a suicide mission”, the man fumed

“And that’s why I’m going to survey it.”

“Please do it, and get yourself killed.”

“THOM!”

“WHAT? He wants to do it, let him.”

“So you’ll wait until I come back?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Two days. I will be back with the intel we need, is that enough for you?”

“You know what? Bring me a corpse too, preferably yours.”

“Deal.”, Xavier extended his arm for a handshake that was never concluded.

“No…”, Thomas, “We’ll break camp tomorrow, by dawn.”

“Two days, Thom! He isn’t asking for much.”, Emmanuel shouted

“Tomorrow morning. ”

The sergeant exited the tent, making an obscene gesture to the two as he left. Emmanuel took a moment to wind down and get his head to process their arrangement.

“Why, friend? Why did you do that?”

“I have to earn my keep.”

“You’re delaying your own return, for the heroes sake!”

“Three days more to help a friend? Seems fair to me.”

“Are you that confident?”, Emmanuel asked with a shy smiled

“No… But that’s the best we got, plus, I’m getting tired of that pretentious shithead.”

Emmanuel blinked a couple of times in a quick sequence and soon his humor escalated into a laughter so loud it echoed throughout the campsite.

The boy returned to his tent and took a long nap before parting on his solo mission. As a rule of thumb, no soldier should act during the night but his loner experience had taught him that the wicked avoid the darkness as much as the humans do. This time it could be an advantage. He left the shield back in the camp, taking his carrier, packed with a single scapula and five roasted moths in case he had to do a sleepover, his loyal pair of tools that accompanied through his struggles and last, but not least, the axe that evoked bittersweet emotions, previously owned by someone he barely met. It was a three hour hike until his destination, a calm travel until its outskirts where the first wicked were spotted. Emmanuel lent him a silk mantle to aid on his travel, it was fresher than his old rags but not as effective to block the sunlight directly.

Xavier stood to his fundamentals - climb, observe, path, sneak and repeat – starting from a dune at the desert side. The manor was located in a square estate surrounded by an extensive entrenchment. It was building two stories shaped like an U, enclosing a patio, made of pure stone as large as Emmanuel’s camp, with a single entrance at the middle connected to the ground level by a bridge, where a group eight wicked guarded the passage. The middle portion was wide and had multiple narrow windows within a few steps distance from each other and a tower like structure over the massive doorway that led to the interior. Little could be seen from the right wing besides a couple of roof tiles ready to fall with a modest breeze. Its left side used to have a whole wing, likely the same as its counterpart, but only the wreckage remained. The guards beared more flesh and armor than expected, surpassing even the ghouls from the deep barren. Not much of an issue but It disturbed him. Nikolai avoided all of the ruins they had encountered, not even daring to stay within an hour distance. His captain wasn’t a fool, maybe it wasn’t worth the risk.

The scout continued to pivot the manor, minding his enemies’ line of sight, until about half a circle away his origin point where he found the only pillar in the vicinity. There were three or four rooms at the right wing, the first few appeared to be well preserved from the outside, but last one in the area was in shambles, completely exposed to the elements, with only the two connected walls resisting the passage of time. A bunch of ghouls were gathered there, seated in a circle in the same way as his comrades did over the night fire. It surprised him that such a scene could provoke emotions from a distant, so much it ached his heart with nostalgia. There was beauty in there, the same one that he saw on his slumber. At that moment it didn’t matter who they were, the boy only wanted to admire the view, but for now his priority was to observe every single ghoul that entered and left the building until the night.

From the moment he started counting, about twenty wicked from faraway stations had marched towards the building. Most of them came from the distant horizon behind the manor, taking a huge turn over the construction to get inside the building. They always stated scattered, grouping only if they happen to stumble on each other during their crossing. By the nightfall the guards left their posts, and the entrance became completely unprotected. Xavier had patiently waited atop the pillar for that exact moment, coming to resume his task after meeting the collector. One thing had bothered him since the start of his lonely journey. The wicked always left before sunset and only returned at sunrise. It was unclear on what happened to them during the meantime as these creatures don’t follow the laws that rule the living. Not even once he spotted a ghoul at night, be it in his days stranded, at Emmanuel’s camp or the year he served on Nikolai’s unit. Both units prepared for night attacks, with alarms and lookouts, yet they were never effectively used. Perhaps that could be a weakness of their foes, one that had to uncover no matter the cost.

Xavier approached the structure in light steps, taking a full round around the building while looking for additional entry points. The base floor had been secured, both the rubles of the left wing and the accesses to the patio were obstructed by debris. Escaping through the window would be proven quite a challenge, to start they were at least two stories from the ground level due the trench, then there’s the extra of the narrow space one had to squeeze to exit, and last, some sort of transparent solid material blocked them. That almost got the boy tried in trouble when he tried to peak, being immediately greeted by a strange figure on the other side. His initial reaction was to hide and prepare his escape but he noticed there were no noise coming from inside. He turned back to it and observed it once more, being shocked to know that not only it was his own reflection but also that his face had been alien to him for the last couple of moons, with a respectable size beard overgrowing most of his face and his eye lids black as a corpse, hiding the remaining luster of his vigor. There wasn’t enough brightness to inside to see anything. With no threats in its exterior, it was time to enter the building.

By his calculations there were suppose to be at least a sixty five of them inside. He counted thirty seven ghouls entering the building through the day, including the guards and the seven that hanged out at exposed part of the right wing. It was safe to assume the an extra twenty four for the other areas of the building and a few more at the middle section. He wouldn’t want to take his chance on the main route. The boy sneaked through the right side instead, taking advantage of the little light the night could offer. Up close it didn’t differ much from the structures from his settlement, besides the plated roof and a the wooden door that lead to the interior. The room was decorated by items that existed in the edge of the strange and the familiar. A couple of reflective pots decorated were displayed on top of rectangular stone pillars by the walls, with elaborate bumps of mysterious shapes chiseled over its surface, mostly intact. What captivated the boy was an image in a wooden frame, a detailed portrait twice as large as his whole body extended, composed of colors, objects and features he could not name, washed away by centuries of neglect.

The otherworldly artifact depicted a lady sitting at a chair with her hands resting atop a beast of old that sat at her lap, near a narrow window of a stone building and a fancy pot holding a decoration that appeared to be an arrangement of multiple layers of large reddish opaque beetles elytrons on top of each other, at the end of a stick, presumably at the exact same room he was. Her companion’s body was fully covered in white by short hair, wide eyes clear as the morning sky, a pair of triangular ears and a tiny nose of a similar shape in the same color as the westkin’s skin, with larger hair strands poking out of it. A striped yellow and black sleeveless garment covered the lady, made out of a similar hair of the beast she carried along some sort of folded bright fabric that leaked under the black stripes and covered her shoulders, tight at the from her waist up and puffy at the bottom. Her dark skin had a peculiar hue that hinted a bit of a deep blue and scarlet red, yet twice as bright than the night sky, and was covered by extensive paths of discrete white triangular marks, mostly present at hear arms, going as far as her wrists and hairline, adorned by an extravagant set of golden accessories with crystalline rocks, all unique - seven woven wristbands, a ring for each one of her fingers and three necklaces. The lady’s face beared an aspect that transited between modest and the mildly pleased, with plump pale lips, a nose as narrow and prominent it resembled a ceremonial knife, eyes with a black sclera and bright irises just like two moons at the sky and a pair of pointy ears that escaped sideways, with trails of gold dangling from its bottom. A large spike like protuberance escaped the left corner of her forehead, forming a gradient as her skin stretched and thinned to cover all of the bone, breached the bangs of an extensive silvery wavy hair that ended up to her shoulders. The boy knew at the first sign, she was a demon, equally alluring and frightening.

It was a vision of a being forged in the depths of the cosmos. A celestial body marked by both the dimmest and the brightest stars, embraced by the cloudy horizon that preceded dawn. The boy couldn’t help himself to not be mesmerized by her character. A primal awe of admiration sparked within, quickly developing into the desire to serve such being as its most loyal servant. His eyes couldn’t divert the canvas, they roamed around the portrait meticulously absorbing every single detail in its composition, almost as if his soul was being devoured by the object. Part of him tried to fight back, wanting to destroy such craft to free his mind of this repugnant feeling that had enthralled him before it was too late, yet his dominant side wished to keep it as the most valuable treasure in the whole existence, slaying any fool that dared to share the same ambient as her image.

“Friend!”

A fragment of Emmanuel’s voice echoed in his head, bringing him back to the present after more than an hour of inner turmoil.

“This thing… is too dangerous…”, the scout internalized, diverting his body and sight away from the portrait.

He took a moment to refocus before heading to the door. For his luck, the wicked left it ajar, nearly closed. He quickly lurked over the jamb and peaked. It was too dark for him to see anything. The boy took a deep breath before going for his next move when a conversation from afar stopped him.

“New… soldiers… Once… man…?”, a wheezing ghoul spoke

“Kwakwakwa! That’s the rumor around. Can you believe it?”

“Absurd… No… man… chooses… it…”

“For the devil, what’s wrong with your throat?”

Silence

“Just that? Patch it with some leg flesh you moron.”

“Can’t… make… fit…”

“Ask! Get over here”

A faint sound of scraping could be heard.

“Stay still! Wait… Don’t! Almost there… aaaaaaand…. done!”

“Do you think… the new ones… will do good…?”

“Kwakwakwa! I hope they get smashed first.”

“They replace… the ones… from the dry…”

“Eh!? I thought the south troops were transferred to the desert.”

“They fell…”

“There are no humans in our radius!”

“A mystery… indeed…”

“Living bastards!”, the ghoul vented before continuing with a depressed tone, “I liked those guys…”

The volume of their exchange turned louder with each sentence and soon the boy realized they were approaching his location, they would find him. He sprinted back to the edger where he climbed and sank right away. A cracking sound came for the room, followed by a scream of frustration.

Xavier left the place, emotionally incapable of fulfilling his duty. The two ghouls, the painting, his former unit, the last remnant of life that stood by him at the barren, their whole conjuncture had shaken his convictions. No matter how much pain they caused him, he still carried deep affection to his former unit. He also cherished the ghoul that he met in the start of his solitude, never questioning if the creature felt the same way. Could it be that his foes shared similar experiences, even if they fought over an atrocious cause. If they shared the same feelings, the same virtues, maybe even the same experiences, why couldn’t the share the same world? Since his earliest memory the boy had been taught that the wicked were inherently evil. Of course he would see them like villains, they’re the reason why mankind is on the brink of extinction. But if by any chance, the two kin could seat at the same table and negotiate, perhaps they could coexist. His body wanted to embrace the demon, not reject her… What if a similar phenomenon was the reason Nikolai turned along his men? Could it be that he had a scheme that required such move? Was there even a reason for the war? Did it had a meaning? He didn’t want to believe Demon Lord spite was enough to make for humans and wicked to kill each other… No… It shouldn’t be like that… It couldn’t…

He marched through the freezing desert under the distant shine of the moon, unsure if the weather made him shiver or if it was his own consciousness that disturbed him…