Men and women bickered back and forth, filling the hall with a cacophony of noise and shouting. Yutrad watched as his group’s opponents, consisting of Duke Jiklac of Gribnik, Dan West of Nolus, and Germy and Jermy of the Affexes, slowly steered the conversation against Mori and her undead. The only ones at the center table who were not against Mori were himself, Aetra, Ushkia, Captain Eaner, his assistants, Ajex and B’yldyni of Nolus, and two other miscellaneous mercenaries. Everyone else was either indifferent or afraid to offer their opinions.

“Everyone, please think about this logically!” the Duke yelled, “Remember what I said before, about that creature’s lax morality! About how it failed to serve the Creators! How can anyone justify defending that thing!?” Over half of the hall cheered in agreement, some spouting insults towards the ones who still defended Mori and her undead.

Yutrad internally sighed. The conversation had started right as word of Mori’s death knights’ arrival became well-known, and the arguments had barely changed from the beginning. The only thing that changed was the sheer number of times the same thing had been said, which certainly eroded some of Mori’s supporters into silence. “There was nothing immoral with her decision,” Yutrad calmly replied, “She distracted a massive Clockwork that could have done serious damage to both the fortress and our forces. Eye witness reports and testimony all agree with that sentiment.”

“Those are lies and we all know it!” the Duke replied, glaring at Yutrad, “I would be delighted to hear the testimonies of anyone who is not aligned with the creature! There are none? Then the implication is obvious. It was a way for her to escape! Come clean and say it!”

“That makes no sense,” B’yldyni replied, his deep voice vibrating the table, “For what reason do they have to smuggle out a potential combatant that, if you can remember, was blessed by the Creators?”

“And yet another lie,” Dan replied, “How do we know she was telling the truth when she says that? What sign from the Creators says that she is truly their champion? Unless I missed something, there are no signs. Nothing but eye-witness testimony. Most of which also states that the lich slaughtered numerous priests of the Creators.”

Ajex snorted, shaking her head, “Yeah, she killed a bunch of hedonists. So what. Besides, we’re not discussing her merits as a person, only if she’s guilty of desertion, which is not true. She led away a very dangerous enemy that not even I would want to charge at.”

“Do not speak ill of Bishop Ahdalhar,” the Duke growled, “He was a servant to the Creators till the very end and he should be honored as one.”

“If he even served the Creators that long, he was a pretty shitty servant,” Ajex replied.

The Duke became furious, standing, “You-” Just then, the large door was thrown open, revealing three winged women, one a human, one an orc, and the last a lizard woman each carrying a different weapon and all with incredibly dark shadows. Yutrad squinted for a moment, then subtly shook his head. He could have sworn that the light and shadows in the room became darker at that moment, but he was not sure, “And who might you be?” the Duke growled as the three entered.

The leading lady, Megaera, sketched a small bow, mirrored by her companions, “We are the advance force sent by our mistress, Mori Athanatos, and we heard that there were odd discussions occurring about our mistress. We assumed that we would have been invited, but is that not the case?”

The Duke grit his teeth and stood, “So you servants of that creature believe that you deserve a say in your master’s sentence?” he asked loudly, “Unfortunately, you are mistaken. You have no say. Lay down your arms and surrender to the council, or else.”

Some of the other mercenaries in the room shifted in their seats, obviously preparing to attack them. While weapons were forbidden at the event, it did not mean that none carried them. It only meant that whoever was the most indiscrete was the best armed. Despite the words of the Duke, the three women did not move, “You want us to surrender? Really?” Megaera asked, an amused smile on her face.

“What does it sound like? You are outnumbered, surrounded by tens of thousands of soldiers, and have nowhere to go. It is in your best interest to surrender,” the Duke replied, sigils crackling in his hands.

The three smiled, “You may be right, but right here, right now, we are not outnumbered, nor are we surrounded. That honor goes to you yourself.” Before any of them could process her words, scores of armored knights emerged from the walls and ground, all holding very strange, very dangerous-looking weapons. They appeared around each of the mercenaries, with gun barrels aimed at every man and woman’s head. More emerged from the walls, bayoneted guns inches from mages and other participants of the discussion. Duke Jiklac himself was suddenly surrounded by a half dozen undead, as well as the three’s other opponents. The hall was still for a long moment, then the leading lady sighed, “You know, I didn't want to do this. We were ordered to come here and help you idiots. Do you know how long it took us to outrun the Cyst? Five days. And we didn’t even outrun it in the end. We found- actually, we’re not allowed to talk about that, but-”

“You barbaric undead!” the Duke shouted, “Tell you puppets to stand down and submit to the council!”

Megaera tapped her chin, humming, “No, I don’t think they will. You see, these guys love a good fight. Not killing, particularly, but if you resist, they have a reason to beat you up. Judging by the numbers, there are three undead for every one of you dumbasses who think we need to be arrested. No matter how powerful you think you are, I don’t think you’ll like those odds. So, why don’t we calm down, and discuss this like logical, non-power-hungry people? Hmm?”

The Duke scowled, then raised his hand. Mana crackled in his palm and rushed throughout the room, snapping at everything and everyone. “I won’t submit just-” a low whine rang out and the Duke fell to the ground, clutching his chest.

“Bad move,” Megaera sighed, “We could have been civil about this, you know.” The Duke tried to stand, but was met with the stock of a gun crashing into his head as he tried, “Like I said, we can either solve this as logical, non-power-hungry people, or we can solve this with brute force. And I don’t want to have to solve this with brute force. Didn’t, at any rate.” The three strode into the hall and took seats at the center table, “Now, does anyone else have any funny ideas, or can we talk about holding these Clockworks off until our mistress gets here?”

Before Yutrad could say anything-- because he really wanted to say something to the three ladies about their methods-- a few shouts came from the edges of the room, with cracks of gunfire echoing out. Low whines and the dull thumps of flesh hitting metal followed, as well as the smell of burning hair and skin. He looked around to find about ten mercenaries all on the ground, unmoving. They all came from two separate groups, but the display was enough to stop anyone else from making a move against the women.

“Was that really necessary?” Aetra asked, much to the surprise of almost everyone present, “The plan was to make a show of force, not kill a Duke and the leadership structures of two bands of mercenaries.”

“Good riddance to that bastard,” Ajex laughed, shaking her head, “But, damn, you three ladies are even more crazy than I am!”

Megaera sighed, glancing at the staff-wielding woman. The staff-wielder nodded, standing and casting a spell on each of the bodies. They all suddenly coughed and curled up, hacking and coughing, “We didn’t kill them,” Megaera sighed, “We made sure they didn’t kill anyone. Besides, even if they were dying, a spell would be enough to heal them. Now then, I believe we have plenty to talk about.”

*=====*

Words were never within his ability to comprehend. Sure, the mistress had plenty of knowledge on what words were, what they were supposed to mean, but that did not mean that  he could understand it after his first day of existence. And yet, something had changed.

Before, he could only communicate with his comrades in arms through emotions, vague hints, and that extensive desire for battle. And yet, as he grappled with a man with a dagger in his hand, something clicked. He could suddenly understand that each of the weird noises that the furry creature in his grasp muttered was supposed to mean something. After he made that connection, others followed, like something more than simple happiness. Or fear. Or want. He felt things like hope for another battle. Like sympathy for his siblings for not being able to fight. And like annoyance at not being able to fight more after the creature in his grasp was knocked unconscious.

Despite the sudden feelings, he simply followed orders, standing as he was and not indulging in the new feelings. For whatever the reason was, the three commanders brought them to the room of hard sand for a reason. Despite the sounds coming from the first commander’s mouth, he did not understand what the purpose was.  Yet, despite that, Pandora felt like he might be able to one day. As long as the fights kept coming.

Quickman

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