touchnovel Chapter 50: Groundwork
Chapter 50: Groundwork
Chapter 50: Groundwork
A man grows to love the ground he stands on. Many phrase this as a blessing, but it is a sickness of the worst sort. It is the human impulse to accept stagnation, a comfortable lack of progress that works against the path of the divine within us all.
Land is divine, as everything is. Unlike men, however, land may only crumble and wear. It is always lesser than what it was, even if the progress is too slow to reveal itself over the life of a man. Crops leach their life from the soil, rains bring the hillsides tumbling down, and ice breaks the mightiest rocks.
To tie yourself to this decaying edifice is folly. Men are meant to reach, to strive and explore. Travel broadens the mind and throws it into contact with new challenges. War seeks challenge directly, refining those within its maw into purer men than those who entered.
What then of those who do not reach beyond their borders? Who sit, year after year, content in their homes without knowing the broader world? It would seem a kindness to end such a squalid life, if one can even term it that - to end it, and free the stifled divinity within to seek a better path.
- Saleh Taskin, On Reclamation, 687
The tantalizing smells of breakfast were already heavy in the air by the time Michael wandered into the common area, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Vernon and Charles had intercepted the food cart, this time, arraying its contents across the table. Michael sat and poured himself a cup of steaming, bitter coffee from a carafe; the taste was not his favorite, but he was increasingly coming to appreciate the benefits of the beverage.
Morning, Vernon grunted.
Michael mumbled an acknowledgment back around a sip of coffee, wincing at the temperature. He nodded to Charles next. The artifex looked him over and raised an eyebrow.
You look tired, lordling, he said. Didnt sleep well?
Michael kept his expression carefully neutral. Well enough, he replied.
A small smile crept onto Charless face. Me too, he said. It was a nice, quiet night. Isnt that right, Vernon?
Vernon nodded. Very quiet. If I didnt know any better, Id think someone had a veil up.
Heat crept over Michaels cheeks; he took another sip of coffee. I wouldnt know, he said. Maybe you should ask Sera about it.
Charles snorted. Im not that tired of living, he muttered.
Could have fooled me, Sobriquet said, walking in from the sleeping quarters. She smiled at the men, then sat down. Morning, Michael. Vernon. She smiled wider, baring her teeth. Charles.
Morning, boss, Charles said. Breakfast?
Why, yes please, she said, nodding her head at a few platters. I couldnt help but overhear that you slept particularly well last night.
I did, in point of fact, Charles said. He twitched his hand; slivers of metal extended from his wrist to slide the plates over. I appreciate you paying such good attention to our health. Making sure everyone has a restful night.
Dont mention it, Sobriquet said. She took her fill from the plates, then turned to Michael. Is that the coffee?
Michael lifted the carafe and held it towards her; she let her fingers brush over his own as she took it. A moment later, he realized his hand was still extended and withdrew it, turning his attention back to his own coffee.
You sure you slept all right, lordling? Charles said, grinning around a mouthful of toast. You seem a little distracted.
Sobriquet turned her pleasant smile on the artifex, picking up the knife from beside her plate.
Charles paused chewing for a moment, then swallowed. Just concerned about his health, is all. Even a durens can overexert themselves. He looked at Michael. Hows your stamina been, lately?
Michael choked on his coffee. Sobriquet began to chop a sausage on her plate, her eyes fixed on Charles.
Charles drank down the rest of his coffee and stood from the table. Well, good breakfast, he said. Ill leave you to it. He waggled his eyebrows at Michael, then strode quickly out of the common area just as Luc emerged from his room.
The younger man hastily stifled his yawn to murmur a greeting to the artifex, who brushed past him without pause. Luc turned to watch him go, then directed a confused look to Michael.
Whats wrong with him? Luc asked. Did he not sleep well?
The door to Leires office swung wide; Michael followed Sobriquet in. Leire was already on her side of the barrier, deep in conversation with a man Michael hadnt seen before. The man said something quiet and rapid in Mendiko as they entered, then rose to face them. He was older, with iron-grey hair and a shaved jaw. Although shorter than Michael, he boasted broad shoulders and well-muscled arms under a uniform jacket.
Ah, excellent, Leire said, rising from her own seat. I dont plan to detain you too long, but I wanted to make some early introductions. Sera, Michael, this is Antolin Errea - Grand Marshal of Mendian.
Antolin raised a thick eyebrow, walking over to greet them. My pleasure, he said, sketching a short bow to Sobriquet and extending a hand to Michael; he shook it, watching as the marshals grip enveloped his own entirely. He did not grip with crushing strength, however, only a brisk, firm clasp while his eyes burned dark and clear between them.
Leire has been rather mysterious about her guests, Antolin rumbled; unlike Leire and Unai he had the trace of an accent, though it was not pronounced. I suppose now is when youll let me in on the secret?
I always do, Leire said reproachfully. When the time is right. Youre already familiar with Sera, here; shes more commonly-known as Sobriquet.
Ah! Antolin said, his face lighting up. He turned to face Sera and extended his hand with an apologetic smile. Shes correct, Ive followed the accounts of your work in Daressa with great interest over the years. You seem to have a talent for constructive havoc.
Sobriquet returned the smile and handshake. I believe thats the nicest thing anyones ever said about me, she replied. Pleasure to meet you.
The marshals eyes turned to Michael, questioning; Michael felt a pulse of anticipation as they waited for Leire to speak.
This is Michael Baumgart, Leire said. His circumstances are the subject of the rest of this meeting.
Antolins look turned evaluative, his eyes darting across Michaels face. Baumgart, he said. I see it, now that you say the name. Karls son?
He might deny it, as Id like to, Michael said, his mouth twisting. But yes.
Hm, Antolin said, looking him up and down. Ive never met your father in person, but I know of his - work.
Michael grimaced; Leire motioned for them to sit before he could think of a proper reply. Antolin moved back to the opposite side of the table, while Michael and Sobriquet took nearer seats.
Now, Antolin, Leire said, her mouth quirking into a smile that robbed twenty years from her face. I plan to bring these two to the Batzar when it next meets.
Antolin went very still. You do, he said. I imagine your presence there will cause a stir. Half the members werent seated the last time you made an address.
They should be sufficiently entertained, Leire said, her eyes twinkling. I plan to declare that the situation in Daressa is a humanitarian crisis under article five.
You what. Antolin tensed, as if about to rise; he calmed himself a moment later. It was like watching a tempest rage behind one of Leires crystal barriers, a contained maelstrom. Leire, if you invoke the charter youre calling for military intervention. It would be war.
I suppose it would be, at that, she said, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Shall we skip past the part where you question my sanity? There is more you dont know, and I can assure you that I am in earnest.
Tch! Antolin grunted. Ingrate. He looked at Sobriquet and Michael, then shook his head. So you plan to bring these two before the Batzar. Mendoza will object.
Leire snorted. Let him. He cant deny me, and we will be under the oak before he knows why he should object.
But the problem of the Sculptor? I trust you, Leire, but I must be screened after this meeting. You must as well, before the address. Antolin sat back in his seat. The soul makes him a pariah, and you cant keep this a secret.
True, Leire said, the corners of her mouth twitching. But he didnt come here alone. Her eyes shifted to Sobriquet, as did Antolins.
Michael blinked. It was the first time he had seen Sobriquet visibly nervous.
I dont think you want me to use my soul on the Batzar, she said, her voice steady despite the trilling nerves Michael felt rolling from her. Not unless you want them unconscious and vomiting.
Tempting, Leire chuckled. But no. Youve done admirable things with your soul, but I daresay we have some things to teach you. She stood and walked stiffly to a bookshelf behind her, sliding a thin book from it. The Dreamer, the Storyteller. She sat, opening the book. The Whisperer. Your soul is in many ways one of the most versatile we know, though its bearers are infamously difficult to study.
I view that as an advantage, Sobriquet said. Her hand dropped down to her side, clenching and unclenching with restless energy; as surreptitiously as he could, Michael brought his own up to clasp it. He felt her tense, then relax.
Leires eyes twinkled. It is an advantage to be unseen, she said. But that is only half of what you can do. She paused, then looked to Antolin. This could take some time, she said. Im sure you have preparations to make.
If you mean that I must have one of my men confirm that my mind is still my own, then yes - I have some, Antolin scowled. Past that Im sure I merely have to wait for things to catch fire in your wake.
As ever, Leire said, her lips twitching. Michael, why dont you walk the marshal out?
Michael blinked. But I dont know where-
I do, Antolin sighed, rising from his seat once more. Just accept it and move forward. Its how Ive lived my life for years. He waved a hand at Leire without looking in her direction. Agur. Let me know before the session if Im needed.
He looked down at Michael, still seated, and twitched his chin towards the door. Michael gave Sobriquets hand a hurried squeeze and rose to follow him out, looking back one last time to see Leire leaning in conspiratorially towards her glass barrier.
The door cut off his view, and Michael reluctantly turned to follow Antolin as he strode down the hall. Let them scheme, he said. Better if youre not involved. People will distrust you enough. He grimaced. I shouldnt even be in the same room with you.
Believe me, I understand, Michael muttered. I met Spark. He pulled my head apart more than a little.
Antolin made a strangled noise. Never tell anyone that, he said. Its grounds for confinement - usually, but apparently not for you. Leire knows this? He grimaced at Michaels nod. Of course she does. Who pieced you back together?
Michael paused. I did? he said. I wasnt exactly spoiled for choice at the time.
It was Antolins turn to blink. You - of course. The Gardener. He sighed and shook his head. This will take some getting used to.
Let me know if you figure it out. Michael raised an eyebrow at the marshal, and the older mans lips briefly turned up at the corners - before pressing together.
You were there when Jos died, I take it? Antolin asked.
Michael grimaced. With my hand around his neck, he said. My memory of that day is a bit scattered, that part stands out.
Antolins eyes widened fractionally. I didnt think she was speaking literally, he said. I can tell youre not a fighting man, despite what you said.
Im really not, Michael sighed. I know what I told you in there, and I meant every word - but Id take any other option first. I just dont see that there are any to be had.
Against Saf, there seldom are, Antolin grunted. If a man wants a contest to the death dearly enough, then you may be obliged to give it to him. The same is true for nations. I expect you faced a similar lack of options with Jos.
He didnt want to kill me, Michael said. Quite the opposite. He wanted to feed me souls, fatten me up into some sort of monster. His feet stuttered, and Michael looked down for a moment. I killed him to escape, but it looks like he won in the end.
Antolin paused; they had arrived at the buildings elevator. He pressed a control on the wall, then turned to Michael. Are you doing this for his sake? he asked.
Of course not, Michael said.
The marshal shrugged. There you have it, he said. His power was drawn from the same source as Leire - that of an existence so great and terrible that men have no choice but to act with it in mind. Put it from your mind, and there is no power. It is why the role of the Star is so important - why you will be important, if this scheme of Leires works.
Michael grimaced. That isnt terribly reassuring, he said.
Its not meant to be. Antolin crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. Its no mean feat to impress yourself upon the mind of a man like Saleh Taskin or Friedrich Kolbe. Theyre men who resist the authority of others, seek their own path at any cost. To deter them, you must assert yourself as a force they cannot help but acknowledge.
Im not sure its possible to deter Saleh, Michael said. Hed view it as a challenge if you tried. Same with Amira. Theyre impossibly focused on what they think is their correct path forward.
Antolins eyes narrowed. You talk as if youve met them, he said.
We did, Michael replied. They helped us get across Rul and Esrou from Daressa. We spoke with Saleh a bit at the beginning, mostly over breakfast, but Amira ran with us for several days. He shook his head. Shes an alarming woman. More than Saleh, Id say - hes at least personable.
Michael straightened up, a thought occurring to him. Oh, that reminds me. I have a book he gave me, his personal copy of the Book of Eight Verses. He annotated it rather heavily, Sera said it would probably be of interest to a military commander. Would you like to take a look?
There was a slight twitch by Antolins left eye. That would be very interesting, he said, somewhat woodenly. Thank you. Perhaps you could bring it when you attend the Batzar.
Michael nodded. I will. Unfortunately, Amira and Friedrich werent so courteous as to leave a gift - and I think you already know from others that theyre terrifying, so I dont know that I can give you much additional insight there.
Another tremor disturbed Antolins face. Leire didnt mention that you had met Kolbe as well, he said.
On the front between Daressa and Rul, most recently, Michael said. He and Sofia - ah, Sibyl. They caught us out at the Ardan lines, he tried to stop us escaping.
Sib- Antolin coughed. That was you? When Kolbe was injured?
I really wish it hadnt been, Michael sighed. Im not sure what youve heard, but he nearly killed me - Sibyls men did kill Seras sister, Clair.
I had heard that he was injured in an explosion, Antolin said. Among other things. The elevator door chimed softly, the doors sliding open to reveal the interior. Antolin reached in somewhat jerkily to touch a control; the doors chimed again, staying open.
Michael waggled his hand. Lightning, he said, trying not to make a face at the memory. I suppose its similar enough. Not something Ill be trying again soon, it came closer to killing me than Friedrich did.
Antolins eye shuddered again, and Michael frowned. Is everything all right? he asked.
It never is, when Leires involved, Antolin grated, stepping into the elevator and turning to level a flat look at Michael. Please stay inside until its time to attend the Batzar. Dont leave the facility. Try not to talk to - anyone. Or interact with anything. He pressed the control, and the doors began to slide shut. But do bring that book!
Michael stared at the doors as they shut. How in Ghars ashes am I supposed to leave? he muttered. I dont- He twisted to look down one hallway, then the other. I dont even know how to get back to the room.
He sighed, picked a direction, and began to walk.