CHAPTER 20 - SUNSET

  They attacked every 2-3 months.

  Each time, the attack lasted two full days and three full nights.

  That was the cost at the top of the hill that was Garrow’s Claim.

  And, Lucky Levan— he’d stumbled into town just minutes before the 56 hours of violence and chaos that was to follow.

  Rose was in charge.

  She’d fought in “the army,” only adding “Not for the Diocenes, obviously.”

  Levan was not privy to her background, and she didn’t offer much. Just phrases.

  “In the army.”

  “Seen some war.”

  And the like.

  Levan had to pick up information like a game of jacks on the floor as Rose hurriedly gave him the tour, and the background he needed.

  She had checks to do before the attack, and so really it was Levan following her as she went place to place, rather than her taking him for his own introductory benefit.

  The village was larger than it seemed, and the small crowd who had gathered to meet him at the gate was apparently just those who had been there at the moment.

  Crucial locations included the walls, and most importantly, the front gate.

  This was the only way in or out of the town, Rose explained.

  There was a rear exit, that during ‘good times’ was open to use. But, when the First Sliver Moon neared, they filled it with stones. Village tradition, apparently. A crucial one, apparently.

  “What if you need to escape?” Levan had asked.

  Rose gave him a hard look, and a smile that didn’t touch her eyes.

  “Well, then with the rear exit blocked off, we can’t,” she said, and kept walking.

  Levan frowned. Then he understood.

  “And that’s how it is here,” Rose responded with a nod. “Good to have that settle in for you.”

  Levan understood—though it didn’t change the dread he felt upon seeing the large pile of stones blocking off the rear exit.

  As they walked, others found them.

  Found Rose, at least.

  They approached the village’s leader, giving the status of the walls, the stockpiles of food and arrows, the various places those who couldn’t fight or otherwise help were staying.

  “How are you with a bow?” she asked, as the villager in charge of the walls approached.

  “Never shot one in my life,” he said.

  “Never,” Rose said, balking. “Or maybe you just don’t remember,” she said with a sniff.

  “I could try,” he offered.

  The wall-leader glanced at Rose and departed, still carrying the bow and quiver he’d offered.

  Maybe that was dumb, Levan thought. Maybe I should have taken the gig on the walls.

  “You might wish you’d lied about that,” Rose said at the same time, “On the walls with a bow is one of the safer places to be.”

  Levan opened his mouth.

  “Your honesty is appreciated,” Rose said, and kept walking.

  More defensive layers ringed the space directly past the walls.

  Levan had seen footage of a water droplet in incredibly slow motion once—seen how it created a ring disturbing the water, rose again, created another smaller ring, rose again, and so on. Garrow’s Claim was similar—the circles, instead of ring of water within ring of water—was ring of fortification within ring of fortification.

  There were small openings here and there, but for the most part, the village itself looked just as prepared with angled stakes and even archer towers as the outside of the city.

  A noticeable lack of blood on the stakes within the village, Levan noticed. A lack—but not a complete lack. Either they were repurposing stakes, or, on at least one occasion, whatever it was they “painted the palisades” with had broken into the city itself.

  They walked further into town, and Levan slowed to a stop.

  All over the villages, certain areas were…emphasized.

  They stood out to him, the same way sticks had when gathering them had been his path task, or recipe components were emphasized when paying attention to the recipe.

  This time, it wasn’t the materials themselves that were emphasized—it was areas.

  A stone house with a tar-covered roof stood normal, humble, even—but the house’s attachment—a flat, outdoor extension of cobbled stone stood out in his mind and vision. The ring of stone with glowing embers, the casting pots, the anvil, the rack of hammers and tongs—those stood out to him.

  On the other side of the street was a similar house, but instead of a stone extension, an awning held a small patch of grass where animal fur was stretched on a wooden frame, with clay bowls next to it, and a rack of tanner’s knives and sharpeners next to them.

  Emphasized areas were littered all around the village, and the closer towards the center of town Rose brought them, the more he could see.

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  [ Codex > Ability Core: Crafter > Crafting Stations | Some recipes require more than just their material components to craft. At Crafting Stations, you will be able to craft recipes you otherwise wouldn’t be able to craft. Additionally, your Ability Core recognizes Crafting Stations as distinct entities and locations, and you will receive various bonuses based on the type of Crafting Station you work from. ]

  As they passed the blacksmith and the tanner, a woman and man respectively approached to meet Rose and Levan.

  “Got anything that will fit him?” Rose asked each of them.

  The smith, a woman with a thick black apron scarred with ember sparks folded her arms. “I thought priests don’t fight.”

  “He’s not a priest,” Rose said.

  “He a soldier?” the tanner asked. His skin was a shade or two darker than most of the village, and didn’t share their accent.

  “No.”

  The tanner frowned.

  “What’ll he be doing then?” he asked. “Strange looking fellow.”

  “I don’t know yet,” Rose said with a less than patient smile. She glanced up, where the evening sky had swapped its orange light for a violet, dying glow.

  “Everything I’ve got’s heavy,” the blacksmith said. “You know how to use a weapon boy?”

  “I have a sword,” he said.

  Kind of a non-answer.

  “Where?” Rose frowned.

  Either tell the truth, or accept that you’ll look like an idiot.

  “I did, at least,” he said with a sigh, staring down at his feet.

  The blacksmith stared at him, then looked to Rose.

  “Perhaps the walls,” she said. “Looks like an archer.”

  “He’s never fired a bow,” Rose said, not looking at Levan.

  The tanner slapped his thighs.

  “Lemme get up there, Rosie,” he said. “Please, I’m a dead shot.”

  “You are needed here, you know that. And don’t use phrasing like that, it’ll make it come true in the worst way.”

  “The worst things come true anyway, Rose,” the Tanner said, a smile that was, admittedly, actually pretty damn charming despite a trio of missing teeth on the side of his mouth.

  “You can swap war stories later,” the smith said, her arms still folded. “I’ve got work to do. What’s the verdict?”

  “Give him a sword,” Rose said.

  Without a word, the blacksmith departed.

  “You been in a war, friend?” the tanner asked. “What’s yer name?”

  “Levan,” Levan said. “And…no. I was at Sandesar.”

  “Sacked?”

  Levan nodded.

  The tanner frowned. “Britebridge?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He nodded.

  “Clint fought the Diocene before his people were conquered too.”

  “Finest archer in my division,” Clint said, proudly.

  Levan looked to Rose, expecting the pattern of cynical humor.

  “He’s a very good shot,” Rose said, without cynicism or sarcasm.

  “Here,” the smithy said, placing a sword into his hands.

  [ Item Gained: Iron Sword | Item Quality: Common ]

  [ Item Equipped: Iron Sword | Item Quality: Common ]

  Levan gave it a swing or two without thinking. Clint, the tanner, smiled, so did Rose. So did the smith.

  “Wherever you’re from, people all the same,” the smith said with an earnest smile. The first time he’d seen her face move from its usual stone. Clint took a pair of thick knives from his belt and clinked them together a few times. The blacksmith took out a pair of U-shaped tongs, and clicked them together a few times, too.

  Levan smiled.

  “Don’t die,” the smith said flatly, and Levan’s smile faded. “I’ll give you some heavy armor, if you like, but you’re just as likely to get exhaustion from the weight and slowed down and ripped to shreds that way.”

  “I’ve got armor for him,” Clint said, and turned towards his house.

  The smith nodded once at Levan, then left.

  Clint returned, armor in hand.

  “Should I change, or—” he gestured towards his tunic and pants. .

  Clint winced.

  “The nips, brother,” Clint said. “You’re gonna want something between the skin and the armor. The nips.”

  [ Equipped: Leather Breastplate | Item Quality: Common ]

  [ Equipped: Leather Pants | Item Quality: Common ]

  “Also,” Clint said, “I can’t believe I’m the first person to offer you these.”

  “Oh, thank god,” Levan said, taking the shoes.

  [ Equipped: Leather Boots | Item Quality: Common ]

  “These are so comfy,” Levan thought.

  Wether it was because he’d gone almost 24 hours without shoes, or because they genuinely were comfortable he wasn’t sure—either way, it was nice.

  “The first step to dying on your feet is a good pair of boots,” Clint said proudly.

  A thought occurred.

  “Will you…teach me a bit about how to make them?” he asked.

  Clint raised an eyebrow.

  “Sure, if we’re all still alive!” he said brightly.

  Levan nodded.

  He looked at the sword.

  “I don’t have a lot of training with the sword,” he admitted. “Maybe it is better if I’m on the walls?”

  “Should have lied when you had the chance,” Rose said, picking up her pace. The sun was almost completely set. “I’m worried you’ll hit our own.”

  She stopped, and looked around.

  “You can…sit the battle out entirely,” she said.

  “Stranger,” she began again. “I don’t want to throw your life away. I’m not stupid, I’m not cruel. These people trust me, if I say you were battleshocked from Sandesar—if I say you were in no condition to fight, and were to be pitied and treated with charity from war scars—they will believe me. It may even be true,” she said. “You can say it is. You can lie now, I give you permission. You can’t tell anyone we had this conversation, or I could be killed.”

  Levan had been following politely until the very end.

  He nearly choked on his own saliva at the last sentence.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t know if they’d go through with it,” she said, biting her lip. She looked up once more, this time not at the sky, just into the distance. Looked out into herself. “But that’s what tradition says.”

  Levan shook his head.

  “Every month, you do this? You fight this siege?”

  “Not every month,” she corrected. “But every two or three months.”

  It didn’t make any sense.

  There were children in the village. Blocking the rear exit—and there were children in the village. Not just children—people! People in the village!

  “Why don’t you….”

  “Live somewhere else?” Rose asked.

  Levan nodded.

  For a while she didn’t answer.

  She seemed to be elsewhere, lost in thought.

  Then the mayor and captain of Garrow’s Claim snapped back to herself.

  “So,” she said. “Would you like me to lie for you, or—”

  “I’ll help,” Levan said, committing before he could stop himself.

  It felt like what he needed to do.

  Felt like the right thing to do, too—but…felt like what he needed to do.

  Rose smiled.

  “We put the less experienced fighters in the place we expect the least danger—where we can expose them to combat with a few trusted leaders, get their skills up with as little risk as possible. That’s where I’ll put you.”

  Levan nodded.

  “Mind you, the risk is significant still,” she said. “Even doing our best to control the environment. We’re all fighting for our lives.”

  Again, Levan nodded.

  They continued walking through the village as Rose dealt with the last items before the attack would begin.

  “Head about halfway between the gate you came in and the far western side of the village. You’ll find a big man named Burton. He’ll teach you how to kill them. Then he’ll show you.”

  Wait…

  “Kill what?” Levan asked.

  Rose looked at him.

  “What attacks? What attacks every First Sliver Moon?”

  Rose opened her moth to respond and shut it. “Berthold,” she said, taking his hand, placing it around the hill of his sword, and squeezing it, before patting his shoulder.

  “Sure,” Levan said. “I’ll see you after the—”

  “Uh-uh,” Rose said, shaking her head, pointing him towards Berthold.

  “Stop that sentence right there, you’ll curse me. May have even gone too far already. Say you might.”

  “I might?”

  “You might see me,” Rose said.

  “I might see you,” Levan said uneasily, and the former soldier nodded, satisfied.

  “I may see you as well,” Rose said. “We’ll see.”

  They continued on.

  But Levan called after her one last time.

  Something was bothering him. Something this Berthold or anyone else may not be willing or able to answer the way she might.

  “Rose,” he called, and she stopped.

  “What is it?”

  “Why, uh,” he started, shaking his head at the absurdity of it. “Why live here?” he asked. Her expression shifted to one of knowing, but hidden intentions.

  “Why live here?” he continued. “You get attacked every two to three months? You have to risk things, live in this fortified hill, everyone has to fight, many probably die—why do you need to live here? Why not live somewhere else?”

  She waited patiently for him to finish.

  “Is it just because you…this is your home, or something like that? Important to you culturally, or—”

  “No,” Rose said flatly.

  “Then there has to be some other reason,” Levan said, exhasperated.

  Rose looked at him for a long moment.

  “There is,” she said.

  Then, without another word, Rose turned.

  She strode away to make the last preparations, her form lit only by the lanterns hanging sparsely from around the village.

  The sun had finally set.