Chapter 1332: Gifts(2)

A living torture. An hell

That was the best way Edric could describe these past few months. Not a single lick of rest, not a single drop of pleasure, just endless, grinding work atop more work..

Worse, the work was doing maddeningly little to improve the situation. The bastards of the Vulture Lord would strike from the mist and then vanish as if they were nothing but smoke.All the patrols he sent to search the location of the attack, coming back empty. And perhaps Edric could have slept at night thinking it a nightmare, if it weren’t for the gruesome trail of butchered smallfolk and burned supply wagons they left behind. He had been forced to practically beg the King for more aid, and aid he had received: five cohorts of newly raised men. Green soldiers the King hoped to bloody on the frontier. Four cohorts had been drafted from the Third Legion, and one from the First.

They not the veterans of the wars,but more men were more men. It meant lighter shifts patrolling the muddy roads and tighter security at the garrison camps.

Silver had also been put to work. Edric had raised the rewards to exorbitant heights for anyone bringing legitimate information regarding the Vulture Lord’s movements. Many a desperate peasant had taken the offer. Some tips proved right, allowing the legions to ambush the ambushers and bleed the bastards a bit and torture those that survived for more info, but somehow they never did know where the other camps were.

Still, other times, they weren’t so lucky. Just last week, a cohort had marched straight into a trap, caught in a murderous crossfire between the base of a rocky hill and a dense treeline.They had suffered some losses before they managed to get out of the sticky situation.

They had, of course, tortured the informant to death afterward. With his ribs broken, the wretched man had wept and confessed that the bandits had taken his wife and daughter hostage, promising to flay them alive if he didn’t deliver the legionaries into the choke point. Even killing the man responsible for the trap felt hollow.

Still, at the very least, Laedio had arrived in Oizen. The blue-cloaked commander could be counted on to clean the city’s alleyways of the human rats biting at the legion’s heels the moment their backs were turned. Though, if Edric were being entirely honest with himself, he would have preferred his old mentor. Jarza always knew exactly how to dismantle a rebellion. At the very least, the fierce legate of the First Legion would not have broken down sobbing over a bloody delivery.

"Come on, man, get a grip! You’re falling apart at the seams," Edric said, thoroughly distracted as he reached over and aggressively patted the back of the weeping commander.

"I am sorry," Laedio blubbered, wiping his nose with the silk edge of his blue cloak. "It’s just... gods."

Gods indeed, Edric thought, rolling his eyes. All of this weeping and sniffling over a gift box? From a child that wasn’t even of his blood?

It gave a man a frightening amount of food for thought. Really, it almost made a cynical soldier like Edric want to start a family of his own. A life of hard, honorable work with a faithful woman waiting beside him in a plush bed, nestled safely in some grand house in a fashionable quarter of the capital...someone to grow old and wrinkly with....

The thought vanished from his mind just as fast as it had arrived. He wasn’t that type of person.

He would make an absolute dog-shit husband, and an even worse father. If he ever truly wanted a brat to present to the King, he’d simply sire himself a healthy bastard on some tavern wench and have the crown legitimize the boy. Then he could pass on his lands, and his fucking name without all the domestic nonsense.

"You know, it’s just—" Laedio continued, a fresh wave of tears threatening to trail down his elegant cheeks. He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes suddenly snapping down to Edric’s moving jaw. "Can you stop eating my fruit?!"

"I could," Edric said around a mouthful of pulp. "If I wanted to."

"I will have none of that! They are mine!" Laedio hissed, lunging forward to pull the wooden chest closer to his side of the desk.

"Come now, that is only the second pear. You have plenty more," Edric lied smoothly. In truth, there had been nine succulent pears in that box initially. Edric loved pears. Now there were only three.

"Those were gathered by my daughter and the Prince himself! Have some bloody respect!"

"The oranges were," Edric countered. He reached into the chest, picked up one of the remaining, wrinkled oranges, and began peeling it with his thumb. He threw the peeled fruit at the weeping man.

Laedio took it and begrudgingly popped a wedge into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "These were taken straight from the castle kitchens.’’ Edric continued’’ I was respectful enough to leave you all the oranges, so that you may weep in peace while thinking about your darling daughter climbing a high tree."

That was a lie too. Edric detested oranges.

Edric almost scoffed out loud when a single, genuine tear finally broke free and trailed down Laedio’s cheek. But the blue-cloaked commander didn’t look embarrassed; he merely wiped it away with a steady finger, his roguish demeanor softening into something profoundly earnest.

"When I asked Prince Basil to look after my girl while I was away in this hellhole, I didn’t expect much," Laedio admitted, taking a bitter bite of another orange wedge. Edric could not but pay attention to the peels that the bastard let falling to the floor, his floor...

"She is a taciturn girl, you know.’’ He continued unknowing of his fault’’ Quiet. Stubborn. Possessing many a fault that makes her difficult to be around. I more meant to make sure she didn’t nothing stupid.But the Prince..."

Laedio took another bite, a soft, reverent smile breaking through his melancholy. "We are truly lucky, Edric. Blessed by the five gods themselves to have such an heir to the southern throne. He is a boy actually worth fighting for. Worth bleeding for. Worth dying for.Gods preserve him"

Edric paused, the half-peeled orange hovering near his chest. He looked at the flickering candles, then down at the messy maps of an unstable province resting on his desk. For once, the legate felt he had to entirely agree.

Basil was a remarkably sweet boy, always harboring a fierce, soft spot for those he genuinely cared about. He was smart, eloquent beyond his years, and possessed a brilliantly funny personality that could lighten even the darkest war council. All in all, amidst the pool of tyrannical warlords and mad princes ruling the world, the men of the legions had caught a damn good lot about the men they served one day.

"You know, we are sitting on the brat’s future fiefdom, if you think about it," Edric began, leaning back in his heavy chair.

In his mind he tried to picture Basil sitting atop the high seat on the dais of the grand hall downstairs.Or atop a horse, an heavy sword hanging heave on his belt. Black hair fluttering behind him, or hidden by an helm.

He imagined rows of iron-clad guards standing rigid at his flanks, shorn up in iron and ugly scowls, he saw him sitting on a throne, heavy drapes of royal gold and red fluttering against the stone. He pictured the boy giving sweeping, administrative orders as a true lord of the land would. Then he thought him leading armies to war.

But honestly? Edric couldn’t quite see it yet. One day perhaps he would.But he was a soft-spoken boy for now.

"Do you think it will feel strange?" Edric asked, staring at the ceiling. "When we come back here in ten years’ time and look around, thinking of all the bloody, terrible things we had to do just for our prince’s sake?"

With his mouth still stuffed with orange pulp, Laedio gave a casual shrug. "I’ve been having that exact feeling every single day in the capital. I can count by the dozens the number of criminal dens I’ve personally put down over the years. This isn’t any different. The only real change is that out here, I don’t need to be so mindful of the local citizenry’s delicate feelings. This place is a backwater shithole, which means I can torture and hang as many rebels as I need to get the job done."

Laedio swallowed the fruit and wiped his sticky fingers. "I could never get away with that back home in Yarzat. Still, it’s a very good thing the prince isn’t down here to see us work."

"Why’s that?"

"Because he wouldn’t have the stomach to look at all those rotting corpses swinging atop the city gates," Laedio said, his tone dropping into a lighter, casual rhythm. "Technically, those provincial bastards are our people now too, you know?" He flashed a sharp, easy smile. ’’I prefer to consider them to be, only after work’s done’’

Edric knew exactly what that smile meant. Among those currently swaying from the battlements, there were undoubtedly a few completely innocent souls who had simply been in the wrong alley at the wrong time. Still, what were the legions supposed to do? When a province caught fire, the innocent bled just as heavily as the guilty.Same thing went with justice.

It was the cost of order.

"Changing the topic," Laedio said, leaning against the desk. "I’ll need to prepare a proper return-gift for Mesea before I head back to the capital. Do you know anyone around the city quarters selling live rabbits? I am supposed to bring back one."

Edric scoffed, shaking his head. "Can’t say I do. Every single rabbit that used to hop around this valley was the very first thing to be caught and butchered for camp meat when the winter food ran low. If you’re that desperate, perhaps you should write a request to the King himself? I am certain His Majesty could manage a rabbit in the royal woods for your girl."

"Perhaps I’ll do just that," Laedio chuckled, popping the very last wedge of orange into his mouth and tossing the peeled rind into the hearth. "Now that the domestic pleasures are out of the way and my paternal heart is thoroughly warmed, I suppose I should finally grace you with the actual reason I broke down your door."

Edric sat up a little straighter, his tired eyes narrowing. "Which would be?"

"What else?" Laedio’s crooked grin returned, sharper and hungrier than before. "Good news, my dear Legate. We’ve finally got ourselves our first proper, bloody strike at the Vulture Lord’s bastards in the trees.And it was brought to you, by no else but you dear friend!"