Janusz patrolled the borders of Sorentina with his bardiche resting on one shoulder. It’d been quiet enough for the last fortnight, but he wasn’t comfortable enough to stay in [Civilian Mode]. Not with the rumors of a dragon taking up residence near Anyona.
“Master Janusz, it has been some time since we have traveled to Venicia. Should we not reconvene there?” His brunette cohort adjusted her glasses.
“Pardon me for saying so, but I believe Anyona should be our next destination.”
Would wars ever happen with manners like these? Janusz wondered for the thousandth time. At first, the polite demeanors and obsession with titles had crawled under his skin. If it wasn’t ‘Master’ it was ‘Lord.’ ‘Sir’ was rarely used despite being the one he was most comfortable with. He quickly learned that there was no stopping it and did his best to ignore them.
“I think the sooner we take care of the dragon, the better.” Janusz readjusted the weapon on his arm. “We should have the Levels for it, yes?”
“I do believe so, yes.” Celestia’s axe vanished from her hand. She laced her fingers together and bowed, her long twin tails dangling free from her shoulders. “However, I am concerned for the budding school and its recent intake of kittens.”
“We made an appearance at the Vencian School of Etiquette a mere two weeks ago, Celestia. What of the kittens in Anyona?” Hanna insisted.
Celestia straightened and adjusted her bracers. “I find it fascinating, Hanna, to hear you breach the topic of kittens. As your own runs wild in the streets.”
Janusz shook his head. No. I’ve been wrong. This is how wars are begun. “Celestia,” he murmured her name in warning.
Hanna’s eyes flickered with anger. “Ceres is allowed peaceful days as a kitten thanks to us. It is no sin to play pretend.”
“Hmph. Time in Venicia would see to that—”
“Ladies. Zamknij się!” Janusz barked. “That’s enough,” he added. As much as it seemed his language had been altered to suit Nyarlea, phrases from home still slipped out from time to time. “This began with the dragon. Let us speak of that, then.” He marched forward, continuing his patrol route.
“Yes, master.” They bowed in unison and followed close behind, falling into perfect step like soldiers.
“The Encroachers aren’t a challenge anymore, and we’ve done well enough with the Defiled.” He sketched a map of Shi Island in his mind while he spoke. “We haven’t seen to Leche or Catania in nearly a month, either. We can speak with both on our way to Anyona.”
“Their missives speak of thriving in comfort, Master Janusz,” Celestia said. “I do not believe they need our assistance at this time.”
Hanna shot Celestia an incredulous glare. “It is more than the Defiled that must be tended to. Did you, perchance, forget?”
Celestia’s ears flattened against her head. “I would never speak above my station—”
“Goddess above. If the school means so much to you, why not run it? I am certain we can find ourselves another suitable [Shaman],” Hanna snapped. Her tail swayed so quickly between her heels that it was nearly a blur.
“I’m also certain we can find another [Celestrope] if you keep hanging dogs on her, Hanna,” Janusz said. What was with them today? They’d bickered before in the past—as did all women—but today they seemed to have their weapons ready at each other’s throats.
“If I…?” Hanna covered her mouth with one hand, hiding the dimples in her cheeks as she grinned. She cleared her throat. “Yes. Of course, master.”
They patrolled in silence for a time. Overhead, the sun was covered by a thick, gray overcast that hid away the sky. A slow drizzle of rain pattered against their armor, and the ground beneath their steps was muddy with it. Cold droplets vanished inside of Janusz’ dark mustache and beard, and he blinked them away from his lashes.
Celestia broke their silence. “May I ask a question?”
Janusz grunted his assent.
“Do you think that we may spread ourselves too thin?” she asked.
Spread ourselves? He chewed on the phrase for a moment, then gave up. “What does that mean? ‘Spread ourselves thin’?”
“I believe what she is asking is if we try to do too much at once. But I would not want to assume.” A hint of ice tinted Hanna’s words.
“Correct. I often wonder if we should use units of Sorentina’s [Magic Knight]s to station them around the island. To protect these smaller cities and villages in our stead,” Celestia continued.
“Some do have guards. But that doesn’t mean we abandon our work,” Janusz replied.
“I understand. It is simply that I have never known a man to maintain such arduous…patrols of the island. Especially during times of peace,” Celestia explained.
Janusz knew that there wasn’t an easy way to explain his fixation on keeping Shi Island safe. He’d tried it once or twice, but the catgirls had never seemed to experience something like a world war. Back home, the outskirts of Olsztyn were made up of concrete factories and abandoned buildings. Janusz had seen photos of his father amongst the rubble from the invasions and the fear in people’s eyes when a bomb was mentioned.
He would never let Shi Island reach that point. Not from the roaches, not from the Defiled, and not from the other islands.
“The patrols bring me peace, then,” Janusz grumbled. She didn’t have to understand. She couldn’t. This was part of a man’s job. “Is Hanna right? Do you want to work in Venicia instead?”
Celestia’s face turned a bright red. “Master Janusz, there is no greater honor than serving in a man’s Party—”
Janusz held up a hand. “Celestia, forget what your good book says. If you want to go, then go.”
“Our ‘good book’?” Hanna asked.
“Bible. Scrolls. Tablets. Whatever Saoirse has for all of you,” Janusz said.
“Ah. The decrees.” Hanna curled her blonde braid over her shoulder. She did that when she was thinking. “To push their words aside is difficult, as I am sure you can understand.”
“She’s not here right now to say otherwise,” Janusz said. An urging in the back of his mind insisted that his words were blasphemous—he never would have said such a thing about God. But he wasn’t on Earth anymore.
Celestia opened her mouth, then closed it again, rubbing her hands along her damp apron.
“Think on it for the night, then. It’s time we find ourselves something to eat anyway.” Janusz shrugged and turned to head back into Sorentina.
Hanna skipped alongside him, the ruffles on her black dress dancing around her knees in spite of the rain. “I shall cook if you like! My [Cooking] went up recently, and I am certain I am much improved!”
Hanna was good at a lot of things. Fighting, healing, history, and carpentry, to name a few. But every time that woman picked up a knife, she created a culinary disaster. Even so, Janusz’s urging that she let Celestia cook had only spurred her on to keep trying.
“Let me buy dinner tonight. Seems we all could use a break,” he said, eyeing a conflicted Celestia.
“Yes. I believe that we could,” Celestia murmured.
Another long silence blanketed the Party as they made their way back to Sorentina. Hanna idly picked through her Class cards, and Celestia’s gaze remained miles away. Janusz shrugged away the rain and stepped through the gates of Sorentina.
A yellow blur raced across the street, followed closely by a kitten wearing a fine dress and mud all over her face.
“Ceres! You— You bitch!” Winter, the muddy kitten, screamed as she ran past.
Celestia snapped out of her daydream and favored Hanna with a knowing stare.
“Gówniarz,” Janusz growled.
“Oh, Ceres,” Hanna murmured. She stepped forward, but Janusz barricaded her with one arm.
“I’ll talk to her,” he said.
“M-Master, you do not have to—”
“No. It is time Ceres goes where she belongs.” He looked at Celestia. “Both of you.”
Celestia lowered her eyes to the ground and bowed low. Without another word, she hurried home.
Janusz nodded, then cracked his knuckles. “I’ll see you at home, Hanna.”
If he couldn’t get a single kitten to behave, what chance did he stand against a dragon?
