Siege State
Chapter Fifty-Five: Steel

The next day, Tom awoke and found Val sleeping lightly in the next bed. She looked almost back to normal, and it gladdened him. He left the room with a small smile.

He put the kettle on, and shared a small breakfast with his mother. Val rose and joined them. He was even gladder to see her up and about. His mother pronounced her mostly well, but said she’d like to keep her for another day, just in case. Some skills could be particularly insidious, especially at higher tiers, and she would take no chances with any patient of hers.

After breakfast, Val accompanied Tom out into the village to replace Dale and Corin. Corin, they learned, was stuck in his office, frantically belting out correspondence to the adjacent villages and Wayrest.

Dale was a whirlwind, seemingly everywhere at once, directing Guards and villagers alike. Every house had supplies stocked already. In the town square, massive amounts of timber were being hurriedly turned into stakes, for reinforcing both the wall around the village, and the smaller rings around each dwelling.

Guards rushed to and fro, hauling supplies with their Idealist strength, or directing idle villagers to help with one task or another. Sesame began dragging huge lengths of timber around, seeming to think it was a grand game by the pulses of amusement rippling down the bond. The villagers were grateful for his help. Tom caught more than one of them slipping him a treat. Tom sighed. The great big furry lump made friends even more easily than he did.

Tom was helping the villagers carve poles into stakes with his enchanted axe. Officer Dale was enthused to see Val up and about, and had pinned her down for a conversation. The entire village was a hive of bustling industry.

All of a sudden, there was a disturbance. A lull came over the village square, and a great ripple of exclamations just after. Surprise and wariness pinged down his bond with Sesame, and curiosity from his bond with Sere. He looked around.

A great metal archway had raised itself, just to one side of the town hall. It was eight feet tall, and maybe ten wide. The thin, graceful arch was all seemingly made of a single piece of steel. A polished, reflective surface, like a mirror, filled in the centre. It was the same colour as the steel arch that supported it, and yet somehow distinct.

Tom was puzzling over it, when the surface rippled. It formed the shape of a person, with liquid metal drawn over them like cloth, which stretched with them as they moved forward. All of a sudden, it snapped, and instantaneously the metal figure was replaced with a thin, cautious looking man.

The man was dressed in Guard uniform, green as usual, but distinguished by a deep purple trim. On his breast was a pin in the shape of an arch.

This was one of Wayrest’s two portal specialists, then. Blessed with a skill that allowed for travel over huge distances in an instant. He would have come directly from Wayrest.

Tom paused in his work, wondering what such a skill would be like. He came up feeling green with envy. To be able to travel such massive distances, at a whim, was incredible.

More figures began to follow the portal specialist through the arch. Several Guards, their armour heavy, and heavily decorated, pushed through and fanned out. Tom recognised the Lord General’s personal guards. They were among the most skilled Idealist combatants in the whole of Wayrest. They bristled with weapons and dripped with competence.

Some said the Lord General only took those who rejected a position in the Watch for the role. Tom privately thought that stupid. The Watch were selected for a different skillset. They were incredible in a fight, no doubt, but they were interceptors, highly dangerous eyes and ears. If Tom were a person warranting a personal guard, he would look for Idealists with tanking and healing skills, skills to buff their nearby allies, or to lock enemies down. Domain skills would be all important, not sensory or movement ones.

Soon enough, a hulking figure appeared, pushing through the portal. The metal snapped to reveal Lord General Grahn Steel himself. He was even more impressive now, than when Tom had seen him last, at his Hearing, in Wayrest. Now, the Lord General was wearing his full armour, bedecked in massively thick slabs of metal. The plate was unornamented, for the most part, and curiously, his right hand had no gauntlet. As he spied Dale, and made his way across the square, Tom could see why. The hand was covered in the thick, blocky lines of a ritual tattoo. He would bet his life it was a weapon and not a familiar.

Tom nodded to the villagers he’d been helping, and made his way to join Val and Dale. He made it to them just as Lord General Grahn did. He saw a few of his guards, arrayed about the edges of the square, eyeing him suspiciously via Sere.

“Officer Dale,” Grahn boomed, his voice carrying easily. “I’m sorry for the delay. The Council only just finished deliberating. Dire news, you brought us.” His bluff face revealed nothing.

Officer Dale snapped him a crisp salute before replying. “Lord General, it is an honour to have you. Dire news, indeed. Miss Carver and Master Cutter were the ones who brought them in, of course.”

The Lord General turned to Tom and Val, shifting his massive form. The plate made not a sound. Tom wasn’t sure why that struck him so. Surely so much metal would creak and jingle.

“Of course,” said the Lord General. “Of course it was.” He regarded them for a long moment, a giant inspecting ants. His blunt features looked a hammer poised to drop on them.

“It appears we owe you two an apology,” he said, at length. He extended a hand to Val.

She took it, her hand utterly engulfed by his massive paw. He turned to Tom next, offering his hand too. Tom shook it in turn. He felt as he imagined a mouse would, shaking hands with Sesame.

He saw some reservations in Val’s face, and he felt much the same way himself. It was nice that they were believed, now, but they should have been believed in the first place. Not to mention the Council, once they decided not to take their word for it, had not lifted a single finger to gather proof themselves. It was a small step in the right direction, at least, but it would take more to change Tom’s opinion of the Council.

“Some of the Council still wish to deny this, but the evidence you have brought is irrefutable. Myself, I am eternally grateful to you both. Truly. My purpose is to protect Wayrest, and you have done us a great service, at great personal cost. It is …dire information though. Tell me, the infestation, is it truly so large already?”

Val looked at Tom. It seemed he hadn’t overestimated the Council, again. “Yes,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” he corrected himself hastily. “Tens of thousands of them.”

“Goddess,” Grahn breathed. “And they have Ideals? They’re …Idealists?”

“Yes, sir. I couldn’t say how many though. I overheard a conversation between their leadership. They implied they are somehow using captive human Idealists to …create their own. Somehow.”

The Lord General was quiet for a moment. “We have no time to lose, then. Miss Carver, Officer Dale, would you mind accompanying me? We have much to discuss.” He began to stride off. He was obviously not a man used to idleness. He stopped and turned. “Thank you again, Master Cutter.”

Tom wasn’t sure what to say. He settled for a deep nod, hoping it would convey his gratitude at finally being taken seriously. Grahn returned it, inclining his massive head slightly, before striding off with Val and Dale.

“Rubbing shoulders with the Lord General now too, I see? How does one get so lucky in life?”

Rosa had sidled up to him as soon as he was alone. He arched an eyebrow at her, as if to say, Exiled for my troubles, six months in the Deep: lucky? Alas, he didn't have the same knack as Rosa of saying many things with a look.

“Lucky you have me to keep your head from getting too big, no?” She gave him a radiant grin. “Come, we have work to do.” She gestured to where Sesame had been loaded up with a travois, piled high with stakes.

They wandered out to the main wall, and began piling stakes at places Rosa had been marking for reinforcement. They continued this way through the rest of the day, walking the wall, stopping, piling stakes, continuing, before heading back to the village centre for more.

Tom had been worried that their newly budding romance would make things awkward between them, but to his surprise and delight, it had not. He had to admit now, that he really liked Rosa, as more than a friend, even if their kiss had somewhat blindsided him.

He broached the subject of their differing occupations. He would only be able to visit periodically, after all. He was a Hunter, and she was a Guard. He could only imagine the tangled lives they would lead, if they pressed this further. And yet he wanted to. Desperately, he found.

True to her ways, Rosa had berated him, and then almost casually dismissed his concerns out of hand. There was an orc infestation brewing out in the Deep. The future was supremely uncertain. And even if there was not, she liked him. For her, it was as simple as that.

He marvelled at her, at the strange ways her mind moved. She was the scion of one of the most prestigious houses in Wayrest. Her family still had connections with Horizon. She had a promising career with the Guards. And she was willing to jeopardise it all to consort with a Hunter?

It was not at all how she saw it. How she saw him. He understood this, on an objective level, but it was hard to fit it into his worldview.

He decided not to overthink it.

They spent the day at work, while Val, Dale, Corin, and the Lord General discussed the news. That night, Val told him they would be leaving the next day.

The Lord General was concerned about the captives, about them seemingly being able to produce more Idealist orcs. Wayrest was unable to devote enough men to a full scale rescue mission. They had not enough time, through their own folly, to prepare their defences. They simply couldn’t spare them.

The Lord General was no fool. Now that the orc threat had been confirmed, they were scrambling to react. But there was only so much manpower that Wayrest could throw at the problem, and many facets of the problem to deal with.

The Lord General extolled the importance of sound intelligence. They needed information. They had to know when the orcs were moving, how long they had until they arrived, how exactly they were making Idealists, if possible. Any information could save thousands of lives.

They needed scouts. And that was where Tom and Val came in.

Two people who had already done the impossible, bringing word of the orcs to Wayrest. Twice. The Hunters weren’t under his jurisdiction, they weren't under anyone’s, really, and so he had asked them that they do this. Not ordered or commanded, as other presumptuous Councilmembers might. He asked.

Val had accepted, of course. Tom agreed.

They would gather as many Hunters as possible, and set them to scouting the orcs in earnest. They also needed to warn the other Hunters of the Lord’s betrayal, but that was a more personal matter.

The next day they would make for Val’s oak, and from there, go and replace Scriber and Cub. Jace and Moth, some others too, were meeting back at Cub’s forge instead of the True Hall. There, they hoped to replace enough support to scout.

Tom was glad to have something to action, some plan to strike back at the orcs. Yet, he was supremely daunted, too. He had no idea how successful they would be. He worried for Scriber, for Jace too. If the Lord was as cunning as he seemed, he definitely would have tried to have them removed too.

He thought of the captives the orcs had taken, too. He remembered the crude prison they were being kept in. Surrounded by tens of thousands of savage, seething orcs in every direction. The prisoners were obviously not in good condition. They looked beaten, starved, defeated. Tom knew it would be enough of a challenge just getting them back to Wayrest in one piece, let alone somehow making it past thousands of orcs, and likely being pursued the entire way back. Rescue for them was impossible. At least for now.

An odd memory struck him, from his Hearing. It seemed like a lifetime ago. The Lord General had said, “It is the creed of every Idealist to do the impossible.”

Tom mulled the words over as he fell asleep. He had Val back. He had Rosa, too. He had Sesame, and now Sere.

The task set before them might well be impossible.

But they would do it.