"Excuse ," I interjected.
"Yes?"
"Forget it. Nice to et you, Kuragin."
"The feeling is mutual, my lord."
"Boss, you've been employed."
"Well, yes. More like conscripted, really."
"You should instruct him to never use this power for ill intentions."
"I'll rember that."
It also dawned on that it would now be trickier, being sowhat in his employ, to resist seeking the information he desired. Hopefully, I'd get lucky, and nobody would attempt to steal any of the weapons. Sothing told that was wishful thinking.
Kuragin bid us both a courteous farewell and left.
I asked, "Drevolan, what are you keeping from ?"
"Many things."
"Specifically. I sense you're not just generally concerned about soone pilfering a random Norsanti weapon."
"You should trust your instincts; they seem quite accurate."
"Much obliged."
He abruptly stood and suggested, "Co along, Viktor. I'll give you a tour and introduce you to a few individuals."
"I'm thrilled," I replied with feigned enthusiasm.
I rose and trailed behind him.
Ever experienced the scent of a battlefield? If yes, you have my condolences; if not, I won't be the one to describe it except to say that human innards aren't particularly aromatic.
We stepped over the mounds of earth (the term "fortification" seems too grandiose) that we'd painstakingly accumulated and maintained a steady stride; not too rapid, not too sluggish. On second thought, much too rapid. A leisurely crawl would have felt too hasty.
I straightened my uniform sash, my only identifiable symbol, since my little cap had been lost sowhere during the recent skirmishes. About half of our team had lost their caps, and many on the enemy's side as well. But we all had sashes that marked our allegiance, much like the ribbons sandball teams wear. I never played sandball. I'd observed Dragons playing sandball in West Side Park, alongside Baku, though never in the sa match or on the sa team. Draw your own conclusions from that.
"Have you considered taking to the skies and escaping this?" I questioned my companion for the fifth ti.
"I've considered it," he replied for the fourth ti (he had not responded the first ti, prompting to repeat the question; we had only endured three attacks so far). And then, "How did we land ourselves in this ss, anyway?" I had lost track of the tis he had asked this; fewer than the tis I had asked myself.
We advanced.
How did we find ourselves in this predicant?
I once asked Alyssra why she instructed us to hold that position, which never seed critically important from my perspective except for , due to personal reasons I'll disclose later. She responded, "For the sa reason I directed Stevens's spear formation to assault that small valley on your left. By holding that spot, you posed a threat to an entire flank, and I needed to immobilize a segnt of the enemy's backup forces. As long as you continued to nace that location, they were compelled to either reinforce it or be prepared to do so. This allowed to wait for the opportune mont to deploy my reserves, which I did when"
"Alright, alright," I interrupted. "Forget it."
I hadn't desired a technical explanation, I'd wanted her to assert, "It was essential to the entire campaign." I yearned to have played a more crucial part. We were just one unit on the board, no more significant than any other. Every piece yearns to be, if not a player, then at least the piece players are most concerned about.
The fact that I wasn't a player perturbed . I guess I was rely a pawn, following orders from my Vorgan superiors, but at that point, I had been governing my own area for a short while and had grown accustod to it. That was part of the issue: In the Vorgan hierarchy, I was, if not the top commander, at least a senior field officer. Here, I was... well, I was a number of things, but combined, they still seed insignificant.
But how did we land ourselves in this ss? There weren't any grand principles at stake. One judges a war based on who is right as long as they're detached from the outco. But if you're a participant, or if the result significantly impacts you, you must construct the moral justifications that put you in the rightit's common knowledge. Yet this war was so glaringly primal. Nobody could concoct a plausible faade to disguise it. It was a dispute over territory, power, expansion rights, stripped of any pretense.
Such pretenses can provide comfort when you're marching toward a line of dangerous, pointy objects.
Verill's demise triggered everything. Drevolan persuaded to lay a trap to identify potential thieves of what I preferred to keep at bay. Thorne, my second-in-command in the organization, seed concerned when I inford him about it, but I'm certain that even he, despite his superior understanding of Dragons, couldn't foresee the resulting turmoil.
"What if soone does snatch one, and you identify them," he said, "and it turns out to be an entity you'd rather not engage with?"
"That, indeed, is the crucial question. But the likelihood of a Vorgan being involved seems low."
"No, Viktor, it will be a Dragon. That's the issue."
Well, he was a Dragon; he should be aware. No, he wasn't a Dragon, he was a Vorgan, but he ought to be inford. He had once been a Dragon, which impliedwhat?
I observed Thorne. I knew him better than anyone I had ever truly known. We had collaborated as enforcers when I initially joined the Vorgan, and we had continued working together ever since. He was the only Imperion I didn't despise, maybe except Liora. Upon reflection, I didn't comprehend her, either.
Thorne was brave yet timid, benevolent yet brutal, laid-back yet committed, amiable yet absolutely ruthless; he also had the peculiar ability, or flaw, to blend so seamlessly into the background that one could look directly at him without noticing his presence.
I couldn't recall a single proposal of mine that he hadn't criticized, nor one that he hadn't fully supportedquite literally, in so instances.
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