V S M [Quest - Arbiter's Plea] The Siege of Grey Patience

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He was as familiar with the danger that faced the Crossroads as any. He’d waged war against it, actual war, and fought until his last breath. And he had died. Out there in the universe, amongst the stars, he’d perished in the jaws of the Unmade where his corpse joined thousands of others scattered amongst the Comet.

Life finds a way, however. Life found Zenitsu Agatsuma, former Lieutenant of the Coming Storm, and placed him atop the battlements of a stout holdfast somewhere miles and miles away from the capital Arcadia. He was one amongst a garrison, well armed and provisioned, and just so as they found themselves under Unmade siege.

“Feels odd being on the other side of the siege, eh?” quipped a familiar voice, followed by a familiar hand that gripped his shoulder firmly. “How long do you think they’ll keep at it?”

Zenitsu turned his head and beheld the large nose, well-coiffed mustache, and smile lined faced of his right hand man; a dutiful veteran of the Hell Diver’s and a steadfast friend, Schnozz had been at the young Lieutenant’s side through both triumph and defeat…right up until the last. It had been a time for rejoicing when they’d found one another in the gathering remnants of those who’d been brought back after their first death on the comet.

Those soldiers had gathered uncertainly in another squat drum of a stone building on the outskirts of a graveyard, weeks ago, and been placed into rank and file by a castellan granted title and privilege by Erde Nona’s elite. That man, in turn, had done what most practiced officials do: delegated. He’d placed Zenitsu in command of a small squadron, a scant one hundred able bodied men, and sent them off to defend a strategic holdfast. Amongst those able bodied one hundred had been Schnozz, brought back to the Lightning Lieutenant’s side by fate or design – who could say?

They’d gone on the march. A week and a half they’d marched, some astride horses, some driving carts of provisions, until they’d reached their destination: a dank, dusty old holdover from wars fought on Erde Nona years past. Yet, despite its humble appearance and wanting décor, the small castle boasted functional walls and sat astride the fork of a river – that made it a point of contention. Unmade that wished to cross would needs take it, and Zenitsu’s purpose was to repulse those attempts.

And so he had. Though the Unmade outside their gates outnumbered them three to one, Zenitsu had posted marksmen amongst the castle battlements. When the demonic entities deigned to climb they were plucked off one by one until their corpses littered either side of the thirty foot walls that surrounded the castle. When they tried to force the postern soldiers were sent up ladders with boiling pails of pitch black as the blood of the Unmade themselves to dump amongst the foe.

In that way they held strong. With Schnozz functioning as steward provisions had been counted and by best estimates they could hold the castle for months. The soldiers under Zenitsu’s command had taken to calling the holdfast Grey Patience.

Yet, despite their success, a mounting unease grew within the Lieutenant. More and more often he awoke in a sweat with memories of the Comet replaying themselves over and over in his head, and a grim certainty that had blossomed within him that he had been chosen to fight the scourge. …to fight the scourge in a way greater than braving a siege, or repelling its monotonous waves until he tired and eventually fell to them. In one such dream, he held a black heart in his hand, felt his digits firm around the squirming viscera of it, and squeezed the thing until it popped. The Arbiter of this planet, and maybe others, wanted him to take action; to rip the heart out of the blight that plagued the Crossroads, rather than to hack away bit by bit at its growing tendrils.

He was a Demon Slayer, not a Demon Withstander.

Zenitsu had a face of perpetual uncertainty but the war had hardened him some and what had been a terrified boy that had touched down on the comet had become a brave(r) young man in the times that followed. Sometimes when he idled the young Lieutenant found himself clenching his jaw and staring, lost in thought. That never used to happen before.

His round hazel eyes stared into Schnozz’ placid grey ones, lost in that fog of thought.

“You gonna say something?” asked Schnozz, after awhile. He quirked a sharp eyebrow.

“Oh!” he found his tone quavering, gulped, and steeled himself. “I was just thinking…”

He gestured broadly across the expanse of field beyond their walls where the Unmaking had ‘encamped’ themselves if the dark carnival of their battalion could be called an encampment.

“Thinking about what, Sir?”

“How to break the siege. …come with me.”

Zenitsu led his right hand man to a flip-open trap door and down a set of wooden stairs that led into a passage lit only by torches in sconces on the wall. They followed the passage a ways, turned where it bent, then the Lieutenant forced open a stiff wooden door which complained against its hinges. A room lit more brightly by yet more torches played host to a large rectangular table surrounded by plain seating. Zenitsu ignored the hard but well sanded chairs in favor of standing.

Before them was a large map of the area – the river fork, the holdfast within which they resided, markings on the map detailing the Unmade, and the surrounding area.

“Beneath the castle runs a series of channels guarded by three portcullis here, here, and here,” explained Zenitsu, contemplative, pointing at a series of three spots on the Northern, Southwestern, Souteastern walls of the castle. “It’s my thought that if you and I take twenty five men each, and we raise the portcullis of the Southwestern and Southeastern a few feet in the dead of the night, we can swim out underneath them and climb ashore.”

He took a charcoal pencil and marked two parts of the shore on the map each with an ‘X’.

“We’ll be lightly armed. Melee weapons only, I think, so that we can sneak in without much noise. We’ve thinned their forces significantly, I think. If we form a pincer in the dead of the night and fall upon them we can turn it into a slaughter and break them.”

Schnozz stared at the map stroking his mustache before letting out a low whistle, and clapping Zenitsu on the back eliciting an ‘oof’ from the youth.

“Damn my eyes, Lieutenant. You’re a genius.”

Zenitsu smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in his eyes. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“What’s wrong with you?” demanded Schnozz, his eyes narrowing. “…where’s the cheerful Lieutenant Cute Man we left back on the Comet?”

Lieutenant Cute Man. Zenitsu’s lips twisted ruefully. Musashi had called him that, back when they’d traveled together. He wondered what had become of the woman he’d become so attached to back then in a time that felt like a lifetime ago. Technically, he supposed, it was a lifetime ago.

Before he became lost in thought, Zenitsu stated, “I’m leaving you in charge of the garrison.”

That gave Schnozz pause. He paled, began chewing his lips, and grew silent.

Then, after awhile – “But you’re-“

“Meant for another mission,” finished the young Slayer. “I’ve heard the Arbiter. In my dreams. After we’ve lifted the siege, I mean to take a single horse and set out towards the North. There’s something happening…something to do with the Unmade. Something that will lead me closer to the source. I don’t know how to explain it, but I can feel it. We can’t leave the stronghold undefeated, however. It needs a garrison. If I had more than a hundred men to leave you, I would, but I don’t, so I can’t. …you’ll need to make due with what you have.”

He was rambling, he knew, but he couldn’t stop. The words were spilling out from guilt or from fear or from uncertainty. Whichever it was, they came unbidden, and flowed like the river they’d been charged to protect.

“When it’s done I’ll return, Schnozz. I swear it. You’re my best soldier, my strong right hand, and one of the best friends I’ve ever had. You have my word…I’ll be back. In a week, or a month, or a year…I’ll be back.”

He looked Schnozz in the eye, swallowed back a hot burning sensation that was a harbinger of tears, and planted a hand on the taller man’s shoulder.

There was silence for a long while between them…and then Schnozz turned his back on the Lieutenant. He went to a rack on the wall, drew something out of a compartment in it, and lifted it up for them both to behold.

Sake. It had been Musashi’s favorite.

“One last drink?” the now-Castellan asked, grinning slyly.

Zenitsu wiped a tear from his eye with a sleeve, and returned the grin.


Quest: An Arbiter’s Plea
Word Count: 1516/1000
Quest Complete
 
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