Chapter 19: Chapter 19

It wasn’t long before Eric saw the good sense in sparing Kieran and Netora’s lives. It was something that he would have preferred to do even without the addition of Issho-Ni’s rules, as he was, at his core, a good person. Or at least, he tried to be. Even back home on Earth, it was sometimes easier to be selfish or dishonest for short-term gain. But for the really important things, he could always clearly see a line between what he would do if the opportunity arose, and what he would never, even on his worst day, do. It was a line he’d never cross.

But rarely did life give you such good fortune for obeying moral laws and putting in actual effort to be honorable. More often than not, the rewards often went to those who tricked, lied, and stole. But in this case, despite it being the more difficult choice, Eric was gifted with his first real chance to strike back against his enemies. Three hours into the new day’s journey, they came across a settlement placed between Sheran and Milagre. It was off of the main road so it hadn’t prospered as well.

“It’s a mining town,” he commented, as it had come into view. “I’ve heard of this place before. Isn’t this Silver’s Rest?”

Johan nodded in agreement. The town had been named this because, on top of being built around one of the largest silver mines in the country, it was also a natural resting area for folks coming from the east or avoiding the King’s Highway. Sometimes the quiet life was preferred and it was this travel that granted the town its small prosperity. But, as they approached and could make out the town in more detail, they began to notice that some things were out of place. For one, the usual contingency of Royal Guards that protected such settlements was nowhere to be seen. In their place were ordinary miners and townsfolk, wearing shoddy armor and holding picks for weaponry.

“What has happened to this town?” Eric called out, his eyes moving from side to side, taking in more signs of recent stress and trauma. “Where are the guards who are normally stationed at the entrance?”

The men he addressed had jumped to attention as they became aware of him, and lifted their weapons in expectation of a fight, only to relax a second later as they took in his clothing. He’d chosen to continue wearing his Issho-Ni uniform while he traveled, just to make it easier if he needed to acquire any extra help or get something done.

“They been run off, lord,” the man on the right said. He was the older of the two, Eric noticed, presumably in charge. “Them infernal bastards attacked and tried to take the silver.”

“Tried?” Eric asked, his eyebrows raised. “You mean to tell me that they failed?”

The man nodded vehemently. “They nearly didn’t, but some strange elven boy came and run ‘em off.”

Elven boy. Kieran, he guessed. He turned to Johan and Jerik, who stood silently to the side. “He got to work quickly.”

Johan offered him a slight shrug. “I heard that the people of the Scarred Lands are very fond of fighting. They go to extreme lengths to serve their warlords.”

“Hmm,” Eric wasn’t entirely convinced. There was something more to Kieran’s enthusiasm for fighting against the Infernals, he just couldn’t tell what it was. “Oh well.”

He returned his attention to the older of the two guards and addressed him once more. “I take it you’re the foreman of the mines?”

“Aye, sir,” the man said, nodding. He attempted a polite bow, but the movement was made awkward by his ample belly and what seemed to be stiff joints from years of working and crouching in a narrow mineshaft. “I’m called Don, lord. Don Silvers.”

“Well, Don Silvers,” Eric said dryly, peering around the area again, “I’d recommend that you find more men to guard this settlement. The two of you alone aren’t enough.”

The younger guard stiffened at his comment as if offended. “We’re strong enough, lord.”

“I’m not calling you weak. But my companions and I could gain entrance to Silver Rest by force in seconds. Other forces will have more men. Double your guard, and even more, if you can.”

“But what about the silver?” The young man asked, a stubborn and petulant tilt to his chin. “If we’re not in the mines, none of it gets dug up.”

“And tell me,” Eric replied with a sigh, feeling that the man was perfect as a miner, as his lack of intelligence would leave him in bad standing for another profession. “Where does the silver get sent when it’s dug up?”

“Milagre,” the man said plainly as if it were obvious. Which it was.

Eric resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but just barely. “Correct. And since Milagre is in enemy hands, that means there’s nobody to pick up the silver anyway. So your time would be better spent protecting the people that live inside your walls.”

There weren’t really walls to speak of, but they had at least had the good sense to put up some rudimentary barricades. Large wooden spikes had been thrust into the ground, presented outside with sharpened tips, to ward off any large force. The foreman nodded, seeing the good sense of the order, even if he was a little slow on the uptake.

“Aye, lord,” he said, giving Eric a salute. “We’ll see to it. Get down into the mines, Jordan. Tell them what Master…”

“Breeden.”

“Aye. Tell them what Master Breeden said. They’re to stand guard for six hours without a break.”

Eric nodded his approval. “Also, if you have the facilities, melt some of that silver into weapons. They won’t be as sturdy as steel, but they’ll be better than those picks.”

“Aye, sir,” the foreman said. “Will you be resting here tonight, then?”

Eric shook his head. “We’re just stopping for some provisions, then we’ll be on our way. There’s still much ground to cover.”

They left the foreman to tend to the gate alone and made their way into the settlement proper. Once they were inside, they could see evidence of more people. Survivors, mostly, having escaped from Milagre miles to the south. They camped in rudimentary tents between the sturdier buildings of the village residents. Many of the able-bodied men and women were performing services in the settlement to pay their way, and more were making a basic meal off to one side away from the mine, feeding those who couldn’t work due to age or injury.

“It’s remarkable,” Johan commented. When Eric looked back at him, uncomprehending, he added, “The people of Tyrman are proud and stubborn, but even more so in Milagre. They’ve been cast out of their homes, and they still stay faithful. Less brave people would have left the area altogether, and sought a new life in another city. Maybe even another country.”

“Not so easy to forget your home,” Jerik said. It was a fair point, but he spoke it as if it had real significance. “They’re not ready to give up, and are hoping that the city can be retaken.”

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“Easier said than done,” Eric said. “I remember the battle years ago still. It was hard for Attos to get inside the city, even with outside help.”

“They broke through the outer gate with ease,” Johan pointed out.

“Yes, but those walls aren’t intended to be a permanent defense,” Eric pointed out. “The real challenge is the walls around the middle and inner cities. And if you’ll recall, they required dozens of siege mages to get past those. Not to mention a dragon in full armor.”

Johan frowned thoughtfully, then nodded. “I’d forgotten that. But I wasn’t in the thick of it as you were.”

“I was in the back lines,” Eric corrected him. “I had to fight off those mages that teleported in. Megan was the one who faced the real threat. I only know about the dragon thanks to her.”

They stopped by the settlement’s only store, a single-story building made of strong stone and wood, with a metal sign depicting a coin pouch hanging over the door, creaking in the early day breeze. It was a quiet, unassuming place, but they had no issue purchasing some basic ingredients for their journey. Down the road from it, on the far end of the settlement, Eric was even able to get some fresh venison, no doubt brought in by a hunter who traded it for shelter and food.

“This is good,” he said. “I can cook us a good meal tonight.”

Johan brightened considerably at the prospect. “Been a while since I had a meal you cooked.”

Jerik, who didn’t know that Eric was a cook, blinked in confusion. “What’s so good about that? Food is food.”

Johan laughed loudly at that. “You only say that because you haven’t had the Captain’s stew.”

“For the last time,” Eric sighed, “It’s not stew. It’s called curry.”

“You can make curry?” Jerik asked, showing interest now. “I haven’t had any in ages. I didn’t think it existed in this world.”

“It didn’t until I got here,” Eric confirmed. “At least, that I know of.”

He gave the merchant offering the meat three gold coins. Then, when the man looked confused and slightly alarmed at the high payment, and started to refuse, he interjected. “I know it’s only four silvers, but I can spare it. Use the excess for more food for the survivors.”

The man grasped his meaning at once. It helped that he was a former resident of Milagre, and so had instantly recognized Eric. He gave a grateful bow. “Thank you, Master Breeden. I wish you safe travel.”

“Thank you.” He tucked the meat away into his pack, then shouldered it, aware of the extra weight. “Well, let’s get a move on.”

 

-

 

The difference between the material plane and the Infernal Isles was, to say the least, underwhelming. For a moment, Megan was a bit stunned and assumed they’d just traveled to a different part of the countryside of Tyrman. Only after a few seconds did she notice the different kinds of trees in sight, and the topography. There were more mountains in view here, seeming to wrap around them. It was as if they were in a bowl of some kind.

“Is that it, then?” She asked, glancing around. “We’re in the Infernal Plane?”

“Infernal Isles,” A voice said to her right. She turned and saw Alice standing there. She was more corporeal than before. “How many times do we have to repeat that for you to get it into your thick head?”

She let Alice have that one, and didn’t bother replying. The Infernal girl was understandably tense, being back so soon after deciding to leave. She’d wanted to kill the Primeval, who was back in Milagre, and likely wasn’t pleased at the change in plan. But if she was frustrated, it didn’t show on her face.

“This is a relief,” Damien said, separating from Michael and stretching. “I can’t say I like the feeling of being trapped in someone’s mind for hours on end.”

“You’re no treat to have as a guest,” Michael retorted, but he was grinning all the same. He strolled over to Megan and embraced her, placing a kiss on her forehead. She hugged him tightly, glad to have at least one source of comfort and calm in this strange new land. “I’ve been dying to do that without that idiot groaning at me.”

Alice snickered. “Damien’s not the romantic type.”

“Wrong,” Damien said. “I’m not the ‘caring about other people’ type.”

He traced air quotes around the words, a distinctly odd gesture. When he caught Megan staring at him in confusion, he frowned at her. “Sorry, but I’m not sorry. Other people are the worst.”

“Perhaps we should get back on track,” Michael suggested. “We need to get to training quickly. I know we have all the time we want, but for us normal folks, we don’t like waiting around. The sooner we master this Infernal magic, the better.”