Chapter 268: Chapter 265: Sanysia Rayden

Sanysia Rayden hated her job. Lately, it was nothing but complaints that Travis, her all-too-good assistant, was dumping on her desk for her to deal with. Complaints from traders, merchants, and the like coming in from the east, through the roads either north or south of the Granora Mountain Range.

“Traiana’s tits. What do these people want from me? Buy them new undies? It’s not my fault they shit themselves!”

Travis, standing with his hands behind his back in front of her desk, unaffected by her slight and tired outburst, cleared his throat. “If you keep reading, Captain, that’s not what they’re asking for compensation for.”

A sigh, something unbecoming of her position, escaped her lips. “There’s more? What is it this time? Frightened chickens that got away? Sleeping potions they had to take because their brat screamed all night?”

“Their horses were spooked by the northern eagles in the sky. They failed to control them, and their carriage ran into a ditch, where a wheel broke. In the crash, several pieces of pottery were broken. They were going to sell it in the city.”

“All right, now tell me how this is a damn problem of the Castiana City Guards?”

Sure, she knew how the complaint got to them. It had landed at City Hall, where it had been handed over to the City Guards by order of the City Lord. The greedy bastard refused to pay for anything, let alone damages to merchants outside Castiana. And the city walls were the boundary where their jurisdiction ended - at least until recently.

“As you know, Captain, the Emperor has extended our authority to patrol the roads that lead past the Esulmor Woods and the Granora Mountain Range.”

Sanysia was well aware of the pain in the ass that the bastard - the Emperor - had forced upon her. Partly her own fault. If she hadn’t insisted on not having an army garrison in the city, things might have turned out differently. Patrolling the roads and keeping the Sahal Empire safe for its citizens could thus remain the responsibility of the army. Well, the fact that Idleaf, a World Tree, refused to talk to anyone but her, Deckard, and the remaining three members of Squad Four made things much more complicated.

The only good thing about the road patrolling was that they got separate funding from the Empire for the City Guards. Not enough, however, to compensate for all the damage done to the roads.

“The merchants were warned about the Northern Eagles and Miros months ago. It’s not our fault that they couldn’t handle their horses.”

“Inadequately trained horses and an inexperienced coachman, then,” Travis noted, taking a step forward, snatching the report from her hands and shoving another at her. “On to the next one. This elderly lady supposedly suffered trauma when one of the Northern Eagles - er - shat on her.”

Another sigh. The good old days when all Sanysia had to deal with was that annoying young Lord Egerton.

 

***

 

Sanysia Rayden wasn’t done with the pesky paperwork until well after noon. Certainly not how she had imagined spending the better part of the day. A hearty meal in the mess hall, however, did make her feel better.

“How’s the trio?” she asked Raimo Pinescar as she walked out into the barracks courtyard. The man, one of her Master Guards, was watching the training grounds from a distance. There, in addition to the regular city guards, the junior guards were training, including Menermut Ironhoof, Harper Breadbaker, and Freyde Welkes.

Calling those three junior guards was a stretch, though. The loss of Grey and their squad leader, Palemoon, had changed them a lot. Once they had recovered from what they had experienced in Fallen’s Cry - and according to Raimo’s report, it was some damn bad luck and some pretty damn messy shit that had even shaken him - they began to train like crazy.

Sure, they were still far from Grey’s leveling pace, but eight months of hard training both here and down in the Labyrinth were eight months of constant leveling. While Grey and her craziness had managed to open their minds, losing her had opened their eyes and fueled their resolve.

“Captain,” Pinescar saluted, relaxed. “How are they doing? Well - quite well, if I may say so. You know how it is with class evolution. You go through an initial boost before you hit the bottleneck of your new and old skills.”

That was the vast majority of the time. The new class and new skills were like being introduced to the system. Suddenly, you were faced with possibilities that you hadn’t even dreamed of before. But you couldn’t just ride the system forever.

“Welkes is a decent [Scribeblade]. He’s damn good at reading his opponents, but he still has trouble handling sword and forearm shield at the same time.”

Pinescar paused, shifting his gaze from the former accountant to the hulking taurus, trying to overpower another mage on the training grounds.

“Ironhoof is still working on his confidence - his clan did him good. He’s better, though. Much better than when we brought him in, Captain.”

“Good, that’s good,” Sanysia said, her eyes on the trio. In fact, she already knew everything he told her from the reports - she just found it much preferable to hear it with her own ears and see it with her own eyes. “What about his class? The [Emberkin]?”

“You know I’m not a mage, right?”

“Oh, come on, give me your impression.”

“He had reasonable control over his magic to begin with. But since Aspen took him under her wing, he’s expanded not only his mana capacity but also his spell list.”

Aspen was a damn fine Fire Mage with her heart in the right place. After all, what she showed that day in Esulmor impressed even Deckard. What happened to her, however, was a shame. One bad decision led to another, and . . .

If only, if only. The world was full of regrets. She, too, had things to rue, like not being there for old Lord Egerton on that fateful day, making him promise to take care of Castiana, or sending Squad Four to Fallen’s Cry.

Anyway, at least she managed to get Aspen to work as a slave for the City Guards. Pairing her with Ironhoof seemed like a good choice.

“What about Breadbaker? How’s she handling her class?”

[Blastmaster] wasn’t exactly a common class, let alone the weapon she picked up. Rifles and pistols, in general, were not popular tools among traditional archers. They didn’t give the user as much control over the weapon as a bow. All you had to do was aim. They were also more prone to breakage and thus generally more difficult to maintain. At least, that was the general impression she had gotten from the soldiers, city guards, and seekers over the years.

“Surprisingly well. She’s good with it, but that’s not unexpected. She’s never practiced with a bow.” What Pinescar was referring to was the notion that crossbows were closer to firearms than bows.

“The gun’s not her fault, though; that’s her temper. Anyone who mentions Grey or Palemoon in the wrong way will get into a fight with her.”

Sanysial Rayden had lost many men and women under her command, even friends, in her lifetime. She knew the grief, but . . . there was a difference between mourning the dead and hoping your friends would return, not knowing their fate. Sometimes, though, you just had to move on.

Easier said than done. Not even Deckard was up to it, determined to conquer the Labyrinth to find the secret - and his apprentice.

“I’ll talk to her later. Now, tell me, Raimo, is it time to put them in the regular City Guards?”

Pinescar raised an eyebrow, only to compose himself a breath later. “Frankly, I don’t see why they should stay with the Junior Guards. Nobody’s perfect; you know how stubborn some old coots can be, ma’am. If these three can keep up their dedication, they’ll be well on their way to becoming one of us Master Guards.”

That was what Sanysia wanted to hear, what she needed to hear. She had made up her mind a long time ago, and was only hesitating now, afraid of making another wrong, hasty decision regarding Squad Four. They had gotten a taste of responsibility; they patrolled the streets with the regular City Guards. But being under the protective wings was different than having the weight of responsibility resting on your shoulders. She remembered it herself, the weight of it, when she first became a squad leader, and even when she had to step into the shoes of her general, mentor, and father figure, the late Lord Egerton. It could quickly become overwhelming.

“All right, Raimo, it’s time,” Sanysia motioned for him to follow her as she made up her mind. “Come with me; someone better confirm that I’m not fucking with them.”

Raimo Pinescar grinned slightly, amused. Most people wouldn’t dare think the Captain was playing a joke on them, on anyone; it wasn’t her style. On the other hand, it usually took at least half a year to turn an ordinary citizen into a decent city guard, a full thirteen months, not just a little over nine.

“Captain present!” yelled one of the senior guardsmen overseeing the training grounds. “Attention!”

The Castiana City Guards were not an army, Sanysia was well aware of that. However, she felt that a little discipline never hurt. If one wanted to have a functioning command, it was necessary to draw clear distinctions between the ranks and show due respect.

“At ease. Carry on,” she saluted back to the guardsman, speaking loudly enough for everyone on the training ground to hear. “. . . except for Squad Four. Come here for a moment, you three.”

[Scribeblade: lvl 142]

[Emberkin: lvl 137]

[Blastmaster: lvl 149]

Not bad.

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“Ma’am.”

“Captain?”

While Breadbaker and Ironhoof were guarded, Welkes took it upon himself to ask what the hell she wanted from them. After the disappearance of Palemoon and Grey, he had become a squad leader of sorts. Of course, Sanysia considered adding new members to Squad Four or splitting them up into other squads - but no newcomer could match their pace and determination, and assigning them to others would threaten to stunt their growth.

“Walk with me. I have something to tell you.” After a morning spent in the chair, standing still seemed like a cardinal offense. Her body craved some exercise. Later. A slow walk would have to do for now. “From what I can see and the reports that come to me, you three are doing exceedingly well. Don’t let it go to your heads, though. You’re still lacking in many areas - but who isn’t, right?”

Sanysia Rayden didn’t expect any response, and she didn’t get any. The trio simply waited to hear what she had to say, walking with her and Raimo Pinescar.

“The key is not to turn a blind eye to your own faults and shortcomings as well as those of others. You may think it won’t hurt to do it once, but once you do it, you’ll do it a second time with a lighter heart.”

“Captain, ma’am. I’m a little confused,” Ironhoof admitted, not someone she would have expected to speak up. They really had grown up - albeit a tad odd to think of a nearly 50-year-old terran that way. “Are you still talking about us, or what to watch out for on the streets of the city?”

“Both and more,” Sanysia smirked, enjoying their confusion a little. Perks of being in command. “Let’s say you deliberately ignore a petty theft, nothing serious, just a few coins or an apple from a stall. I’m not saying it will necessarily happen, but the second time it will be easier to look the other way, and the third time it might not just be fruit that gets stolen. The same goes the other way around. Once they get away with stealing, they’ll try again.”

“So you’re telling us to go around and bash people for every little fuckup, ma’am?” Rayden almost chuckled. She liked Breadbaker’s bluntness.

“No, what I expect is for you to use your brains out there on the streets when you’re patrolling them as regular City Guards.” It took a while for her words to sink in. But Sanysia enjoyed their changing expressions.

“Wait, you want us to . . .”

“You are making us City Guards, ma’am?” Breadbaker didn’t let Welkes finish.

“I’m considering it. I think you’ve got what it takes to be one, and it’s time for you to move on. And yes, I mean Grey and Palemoon. And before you start freaking out . . . I’m not telling you to forget about them and give up hope, by any means. Just don’t let the loss of those two keep you down.” Sure, at first glance their loss might have seemed to motivate them, and it undoubtedly did - but their pained expressions at the mere mention of their names spoke of a deeper problem. 

“Anyway, unless you think you’re not up to it, I . . .”

“Where’s fucking Rayden!” Sanysia knew that voice all too well - Vara. The woman was a massive pain in the ass. Always bored and causing trouble. However, she was a good guardswoman and, as with Squad Four, with a changed attitude towards training ever since Grey had appeared. In fact, it was almost uncanny the influence the young former slave had on the people around her without her even realizing it. Heck, one only had to look at her city guards; 8 out of 10 walked barefoot - and of course Vara was one of them.

“Where is she?” echoed Vara’s shout from the main gate of the barracks, followed by “Shit!” as the gate guard pointed into the courtyard where Sanysia and the others stood nearby.

“Ma’am,” Vara saluted as she ran up to them. “Sir, boys - oh, good, you’re all here.”

Actually, Sanysia judged from how slightly out of breath Vara was that she must have raced all the way here from City Hall, where she was stationed, as punishment, and ordered not to leave her post. The woman might have been a pain in the ass, but she must have had a damn good reason. 

“I heard you were looking for me, Corporal.”

Vara’s face contorted in horror - her captain had heard her. “About that, Captain. It was the first time. I don’t usually talk about you this way, but . . .” 

Sanysia put her hand up to stop her. The way Vara squirmed was comical. And she itched to punish her again - while she didn’t care what her men called her behind her back, she couldn’t ignore what she heard, not if others knew she heard it - it would only undermine her authority - but that wasn’t the priority on her mind right now. “What happened, Corporal?”

Vara sighed bluntly, swallowed, took a breath, straightened, looked around and leaned in to whisper: “The Soul Dice of those two, they stopped spinning. Palemoon and Grey found their way back from wherever the heck they were, ma’am.”

“What?!” The shout didn’t belong to Sanysia, but to Breadbaker.

However, she wasn’t far from shouting down the woman herself - she’d gone too far with her bullshit this time. “Have you been drinking on duty, Corporal?”

“No, ma’am, I swear. The City Hall is already in an uproar.”

“Damn it! The detection runes!” Sanysia realized, her head spinning - the consequences . . .

“Are you all right, ma’am?” Pinescar caught her before she fell. 

Sanysia was grateful to the man; this hadn’t happened to her in years. Pulling herself together, she met his eyes. “Raimo, gather the Master Guards and secure the Labyrinth Square.”

“Lock it down, ma’am?”

“No, just make sure no mayhem breaks out there.”

“Sure thing, Captain.”

“Vara!”

“Sound the alarm, ma’am?”

“Traiana’s tits, no! We don’t need to let the whole city know something’s up.” Soon they would know anyway. In Castiana, nothing remained secret for long. “No, you run to Travis. Inform him. He’ll know what to do.”

“And us, ma’am? What are we supposed to do?” Welkes asked, burning with eagerness, like the rest of Squad Four, to run to where Grey and Palemoon were. And where they were was a damn good question. Right now, she had no idea.

“You three are coming with me to City Hall.”

Certainly not a place to find them, but a good place to start making sense of the shit Grey threw at her head once again. 

What a headache. 

First, it was up to her to tell Deckard. The guy was a pain in the ass to deal with, just like Vara. 

And then there was the fact that it wouldn’t be long before Sah would know; the bastard wasn’t too bad for an Imperial agent. But he would certainly inform the Imperial Chief Healer, who would in turn notify the Emperor. She could only hope that Palemoon and Grey had found their way back, and that was it - she didn’t have the strength to deal with any more shit.

“Just when things were getting back to normal,” Sanysia sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose - despite the growing headache, a broad grin stretched across her lips.

 

***

 

A FEW MOMENTS EARLIER, SOMEWHERE IN FALLEN’S CRY . . .

The tall grass covering the rolling hills and meadows rippled gently in the ever-present breeze, basking in the never-setting light of the labyrinth floor. One of its inhabitants, a huge beast - a horned rabbit - grazed on one of the gentle hills, hungry for more than a plant-based diet. But as far as the eye could see, there was nothing to eat but grass.

Then, all of a sudden, the beast raised its head, its ears pricked up. Something was wrong. 

The beast’s instincts kicked in, the horned rabbit roared-squealed, and took off. Shortly after, not far from where the beast had been grazing, the air shimmered like summer over the hot rooftops.

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