In a Yellow Wood
Maria Turn 10 First omake
Present Day
Four hours to sundown, and they still weren't here. Ajax hissed through his teeth to vent some of the frustration. Didn't work. He couldn't try anything else; too many legionnaires looking at him right now for reassurance for him to let his feelings show. Worse, Sorrowful Blacksmiths stood not far away. Politics had brought them past the Grand Mountainwall, and now they were smirking with quiet joy as they witnessed the Golden Devils in the middle of the Gods Damned Hundred Year Trials.
This, he thought, and not for the first time, is fucking madness.
He tried not to think about it, but the thoughts rolled on. As of yet, they'd not been targetted. The invaders must be focused deeper in the core territories for the moment – some sacrificial citadel holding their attention just long enough to keep them from wasting their time on small fry. Somewhere out there right now, his clansmen were dying by the droves, and sheer luck had kept him from joining them.
Memories of Pleuron fogged the back of his mind, as they had been on and off for months now. Pleuron, his wife, and his daughters. He didn't even know where they were stationed. It could be anywhere.
No.
He closed his eyes for a moment, tightly, and forced calm. No. There was no point to that fear. They were good fighters, his family, with enough potential to keep them out of the fortress-traps. They'd be fine. He had enough to worry about here and now without adding in hypotheticals. Like the Sorrowful Blacksmith who'd decided that now was a good time to come bother him.
The face was hidden behind a stone-grey mask, iron or steel of some kind. It was carefully worked into a broad, leering grin, the eyes buried in crinkling folds of fat and the nose flat and broad. Behind that, thick robes of an elaborate cut, piled on top of each other till it was hard to make out the Blacksmith's shape. Worthless Heaven only knew what armour or weapons lay inside that coccoon of fabric. The message was clear; I am better than you. I can kill you. I will laugh at you all I wish.
Well fuck you too, forge-monkey.
Ajax didn't bother making eye contact.
"Yes?"
"Your clanswoman is late," they said. The voice was flat and nasal. He couldn't tell the gender.
"I noticed."
"Our masters' bargain was clear, demon." Demon. Well, they were brave, weren't they? "Either your junior is impertinant or lazy."
"Really?" He kept his tone mild, only middlingly interested. The masked head tilted.
"If you expect me to brook such disrespect-"
"Don't expect you to do anything," said Ajax. "That's the point, isn't it? You get to wait here, on this side of the mountains, and then when it's time you go. In exchange, we get to wait here to keep you from temptation and stain your adorable little reputations on it."
"What."
There was no motion. The sword and daggers simply appeared in the Blacksmith's hands like a conjuror's trick.
"You disrespectful curr-" they grated.
But that was as far as they got. Because then Ajax snorted back a laugh and they froze in shocked, furious horror.
"Gods," Ajax muttered. "You. I like you. You're exactly the right kind of fucking idiot to entertain me. Listen, weeper. There are eight of us, and two of you. You start a fight, we can gut you and yours before you get a chance to pull another sharp object out of your arse. 'But they're barely even fourth heavenstage!' That's what you're thinking, right? Well, I don't know if you've heard, but we have this woooonderful little trick called a formation. Very popular up on the Fearless Line, actually. Makes our juniors surprisingly effective. Then again, there was what? Six of you up there? Can't really expect you to know much about that."
"...You fucking-"
"Oh, put your bloody letter opener away, will you? I've neither the time nor the children's dictionary to explain what I just said."
There was a long, fraught pause. Ajax knew this was stupid, but he didn't have the paitience for anything else. Not now.
Then, as quickly as they came, the Blacksmith's blades were gone. They turned, and stalked haughtily away.
"Weeper's what we call you behind your back!" he shouted after them. "'Cause you're the Sorrowful Blacksmiths! Get it? It has connotations of 'fucking idiot' and 'tagalong', in case you're wondering!"
They kept walking. He fought down a smirk. The stress had vanished for a moment, at least. If he lived long enough to see it, the punishment for shit-talking a foreign cultivator covered by diplomatic immunity would be entirely worth it.
"CENTURION!"
Ko's voice, high and urgent. Ajax's head snapped around. His legionnaire was pointing off into the distance. There, against the horizon, he could see a plume of dust rising from the Scorpion Road.
Thank Gods.
He let out a breath he'd been holding for longer than he'd like to admit. Then he shook himself. The home stretch was no time to get careless.
"Into formation," he snapped. "Some fucking fifth sea prick wants a snack, I expect to see them choking on your hoplite's magnificent shadowy cock."
"YES CENTURION!"
The cool hum of a qi circuit burning into life between the squad sent shivers down his spine. He ignored them, kept his eyes fixed on the plume. Closing fast. Very fast, but not quite quick enough for his tastes.
Fear. Starting to boil up from his guts, pooling under his tongue. Cold. Bitter taste, like vomit and tears. He quelled it again with the ease of long practice. Focused on his breathing. Fill the lungs, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Hold, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Empty, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. And again. And again.
Plume was almost there. A mile, two tops. Nothing for a Legionnaire.
And again, and again-
He saw them at last. One in particular, hair a thick mad mess of sunlight-gold, skin white as a corpse. So close. So damn close…
And again, and again-
And they skidded to a halt in front of them, the tiny handful breaking and flowing around them. A new qi system drives itself into the formation with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, dropping into synchronisation. He glanced back for a moment, away from the sky.
...Shit. It was true.
The face that looked back at him was a fucking shock. Only word he had for it. Skin a thick, inky black, with a deep red flaring here and there as the light caught it. Right eye socket a gaping hole. Hair (sheared short, like someone had hacked away at it with a rusty sword) a bizarrely delicate indigo. But the face, and the grey eye on the left? Those he recognised. Maria's mirror image stared back at him, face contorting in an ugly grin.
"You'd be Lyssa, then," he muttered.
"In the flesh," it whispered. He tried not to shudder at that wierdly gorgeous voice, oily and dark and full of the promise of gleeful violence. "Nice to meet you, daddy."
He didn't snap. No point. Instead, he turned his attention to the others. Three figures and the Blacksmiths. One, male, dark haired, clad in the travel-stained, mismatched finery that could only belong to a Flow Dragon. Another in the white of a Strength Purity.
And Maria. Glaring at both of them, trying to hide her affection, worry, and frustration. Gods, when had she grown up?
"Go," she said. The broken-glass burr was back. She must be tired. The wounds – he'd heard she was hurt in Qiguai, maybe that-
"No," said the Strength Purity, his serenity verging on defiance.
"Fucking go."
"I will not leave my allies to face attempted genocide alone."
"It's not attempted genocide, you idealistic fuck, it's the fucking trials-"
"Maria," muttered the Flow Dragon, glancing worriedly at the Blacksmiths. They had that jerky, nervous kind of body language that only the truly confused and increasingly homicidal managed. This was clearly not part of their internal script.
Maria's eye locked on them. She bared her teeth like a caged beast, then scrubbed her face with the heel of her hand and turned back to the Strength Purity.
"Nameless," she said, and Ajax could almost see her dragging her tone back to something resembling reasonable. "There is nothing you can do. You're fucked as is."
"I can fight."
"No. You can't. The Dao Protectors will either kill you for interfering or the invaders will do worse because some clause in their bullshit competition will doubtless award them karma for stretching the definition of self defence to include 'torturing a downed enemy to death over several weeks'."
"That is more reason-"
"YOU. CANNOT. HELP." The anger came boiling out of her at last as she gave up any semblence of self-control. "AT ALL. Alright?! That's not how this works. All you can do is cause a diplomatic fucking incident. Now GO THE FUCK HOME."
They stared at each other for a long moment. Something sad slipped briefly across her face.
"Thank you for coming," she muttered. "Really. You're- you're one of the good ones, Nameless. But go the fuck home. Please."
Another long moment. Something complicated seemed to be going on between them. Something Ajax suddenly felt very wrong for watching; like he was intruding somehow. Finally, the Strength Purity nodded.
"If you don't survive, I will be furious," he said, quietly. Maria's lips quirked into a lopsided smirk.
"Promise. Bring you some fifth sea balls. You can have them for earrings, very fetching."
"You are disgusting."
"Make all the Demonic Altar feel very jealous. Or snacky. Both. Feel both."
"Maria," muttered the Flow Dragon again, smiling with false politeness at the Blacksmiths.
She exhaled in a short burst, and gave a jerky nod.
"Get home safe," she said.
---
Two hours later, and they were at the rendezvous. Not safe – no-one ever was, in the trials, not while the blood of bronze ran through them – but as close as could be managed. It was one of the hundreds of makeshift camps that briefly sprang up briefly where the kill-teams could get some semblence of rest, before returning to the tense madness of the trials. They didn't have names. They didn't exist long enough to get them.
The rest of the kill-team had been there as they arrived by two-headed eagle. Easily five to six hundred cultivators of all realms, all with that lean, strange look to them that screamed 'trials' to any who knew how to look; a combination of tension, fury, guilt, and dull, tired acceptance. They'd been digging trenches already, or covering them over with matts and sand. Now, a few hours later, they had an underground fort hidden under the sand. Makeshift as all hell, but it'd do for one night, and the next day they'd be gone.
Ajax and Maria were sat in the dim light of a glow-stone, passing a bottle of piss-poor red wine half-way to vinegar back and forth. The rest of the squad were either asleep or wandering the camp, looking for conversation, music, arguments, sex – whatever their particular form of stress relief was. He didn't begrudge them the relief.
"You look like shit," he told her. She snorted.
"Thanks."
"I'm serious. When did you last sleep?"
"Does it matter?"
"Does when I'm going to have to drag you around when you push too hard and crash in the middle of a battle. You've gotten heavy, too."
"Full of fucking compliments, you."
"When?"
"Fucking- after Qiguai. Don't fuss, I'm tenth heavenstage."
"Idiot."
"That's fussing."
He outranked her, he knew. Technically, he could order her to lie down, close her eye, and sleep right now. But he'd known her since she'd gotten to the desert, and she'd only gotten more stubborn. No point in pushing.
She caught his eyes on her and smirked like a malicious teenager. "Look at you, all sweet and doting," she said. "Getting soft, old man."
"Oh, fuck yourself with a pike," he replied irritably. She laughed, and handed him back the wine. "Fucking trials, is all. I get nervous."
"Get broody, is what you get. The girls'll have a little sister before the decade's out."
"You assume it won't be a son."
"It won't be," she said. "You are surrounded by women in all their infinite variety."
"Look at you, with your big words," he repied, grinning wryly. She reddened.
"Prick."
"There we go, there's Maria."
They sat in comfortable silence and drank for a while.
"So where have they got you going?" she asked, when the skin was empty. Ajax sighed.
"This. Kill-squad duty."
"Good," she muttered.
"Yeah." He didn't tell her they'd had him running a minor fort in the Scarred Lands, dragging attention away from the Apoikía for as long as he could, until the last moment when he's been sent scrambling with a handful of legionnaires to meet her at the Colossus Footsteps. It'd only eat at her. "You?"
She didn't answer, for a moment.
"Kill-squad too," she said eventually, staring at the glow stone.
"That's good," he said, watching her. She grunted. "What?"
"Nothing."
"You're sulking. What?"
"I-"
"She wanted to help the juniors," said Lyssa.
Ajax tried not to jump. Maria's… creature… had slipped up close, moving like a cat on silk. Now she was staring at him from maybe an inch away.
"Shut up," muttered Maria.
"Like Jin Muyi," Lyssa went on, grinning obscenely. "Shout at the heavens and take every fifth sea fucker got near her. Veeeeery brave, very sexy."
"I said-"
"Then orders came down. From the Legate herself. We're," and here she drew in a long, wet breath, fixed its eye on Mari, and then continued with unholy pleasure, "investments now."
Ajax glanced between the two of them.
"Investments."
"Oh yes. The bright future of the clan," said Lyssa. Maria's face took on a stony anger, barely held in check. Ajax thought for a moment. For all that she struggled with herself over it, he knew there was a deep well of love for this clan in her. It was her family. Her home. The first one she'd ever had, really, because niether pit nor pens had counted by any standard worth using.
So to feel that, and then to be asked not to defend it…
Gods. Alright, he had to do something about this then, or it'd be a problem soon enough.
"Duty," he said. Two grey eyes flicked to land on his face. Lyssa was listening too. Alright, that was- terrifying, but probably to be expected. "They would have covered it at the Dawn Fortress, right?"
"Yeah," said Maria, slowly.
"Good. Tell me what they said."
"Oh, fuck off. I'm not-"
"Tell me."
"-reciting sixty year old lectures, Ajax, come on-"
"I can make it an order."
She glared at him. He stared evenly back. Long association gave him tricks no-one else had, and she broke first.
"Boring," she muttered. "Alright. Yes. Duty. Lot of different talks about that. Any in particular you wanted?"
"Just an introduction."
"Yeah, fine." She closed her eye, remembering, and began. "Duty is the highest virtue an Optimatoi might reach for. All others are subject to it. Why? Because alone among the great merits of human character, duty is not concerned with the self. Instead-"
She stopped.
"Go on."
"I know what you're trying to do."
"Maria."
She sighed.
"Instead, it is concerned with the character of society. Of the world. The dutiful cultivator does not merely do what is heroic, what is wise, what is excellent. They do what is heroic, wise, and excellent for everyone. They follow the commands of their elders, they do what is asked of them, but they do it because it is in the best interest of all who walk the many seas. That is what makes it more than simple obedience."
"Better than what they told us," said Ajax. "We got a list of the great triumphs of elder Alexios and told to learn from his example."
She didn't answer.
"Nowhere in that speech did they say it was easy, Maria. Or fun."
She still didn't answer. He sighed.
"Maria-"
"I get it," she snapped.
Winced.
Sighed.
"I get it," she said again, quietly. "Okay? I'm here. Letting people die for me."
"Good." Ajax dragged himself to his feet, and smiled at her as best he could. It didn't reach his eyes. "You can do this, girl. I promise."
---
Maria and Lyssa sat up late. Sleep didn't come. Then, at last, one looked up.
"We could go."
The other, very slowly, turned to stare.
"What?"
"Don't you fuckin' what me. You heard."
"...Were you not listening-"
"Yes."
"Then why-"
"Ajax isn't the world," said the first. "Niether is Foslia."
"They're our superior officers."
"So?"
"So we have to-"
"No. We don't."
"Fucking cannot believe I am hearing this…"
"No. Stop. Listen. We can help."
"Very, very aware of that."
"Help well, too."
"Stop fucking talking."
"Save how many lives?"
"It doesn't matter-"
"That is what makes it more than simple obedience."
Sharp, shocked silence.
"That's not what that meant."
"Hundreds. Answer to my question. Hundreds of lives. Maybe more."
"We have orders-"
"Because it is in the best interest of all who walk the many seas."
Another silence, but this one… this one was charged, somehow. Potent.
"...Fuck."
"Can't go without you," said the first, urgently. "On my own, not enough to matter. Or you'd stop me, or, or- if I had to come back, you could make it harder."
"Keep you inside."
"Don't- you know what, yes, maybe. Maybe you could. Or even just fucking shout, right now, bring everyone else piling down on top of us. So you get to choose."
"This – You – Fuck's sake, we can't-"
"No. No time for that."
"I-"
"No. You get to choose."
The first leaned in, until their eyes were close and their foreheads almost touching. From a distance, in the dull half-light, they were reflections of each other.
"So what's it going to be?"
---
In which we continue the trend of stupidly big omake. Lots of snarky dialogue in this one. May need to tone that down.
@Alectai @no. @Kaboomatic , may I have a threadmark please?
