Part 25

The next morning Greza stood in line for breakfast which consisted of watery eggs and hard bread.  Ox was telling a story of about last night at the tavern and Burana was squinting and trying to hold her head together from the pounding headache. 

Drinking too much didn’t look like a lot of fun. 

“Greza!” Lt. Tezana yelled out. 

“Here, lieutenant,” Greza answered. 

The lieutenant pushed her way through the crowd and stormed right up to Greza.  She looked angrier than usual.  The lieutenant hadn’t earned her respect and Greza certainly didn’t care about her opinion of things.    

“What is the meaning of this?” Tezana waved a piece of paper in front of her face. 

“I don’t know, what is it?”

“A transfer?  To the scouts?”

Greza noticed the shocked expressions on Ox and Burana’s faces. 

“It’s exactly what it appears to be; a transfer to the scouts,” Greza said.  “Richkurk talked to me last night and offered me a place.” 

“Richkurk?  He talked to you?”

She acted incredulous, like she wasn’t worthy of being spoken to.

“You went over my head and stabbed me in the back.  I want you out of my unit right now.  I have no need of soldiers that don’t understand loyalty,” Tezana said and walked off, crumpling the paper as she did. 

She enjoyed watching Tezana fume and smolder in her own petty hatred.  She was a small minded woman that had no thoughts beyond her own self.  In her mind she set a goal to become higher rank than Tezana.  Perhaps she was being a hypocrite and being petty herself, but she wanted to see Lt. Tezana taken down a few notches.  She thought entirely too much of herself. 

“You’re being transferred?”  Burana asked.

“I am.”

“How?”  Ox asked.  

“Me and Richkurk talked last night,” Greza said. 

“But what did he say?”  Ox asked.   

“He said my talents were wasted as a targeteer.”

“I have to agree with him on that.  I saw you during the battle.  You’re a monster,” Ox said. 

“You wanted to be a scout,” Burana said. 

After breakfast she turned in her pistols and shield and gathered her things.  She promised to come back and talk to them when she could.  She had no intention of making them into strangers. 

Then she walked over to where the scouts had their camp.  The camp there was far less organized.  The tents weren’t in neat rows.  Laundry hung around on lines and soldiers stood around in various states of dress.  Some had very little clothing on and bathed out in the open. 

She averted her eyes as she hurried past.  She had never seen a naked man up close. 

Richkurk was sitting with a soldier over a strategaria game board.  He was focused on the board and didn’t look up at her approach. 

“Captain Richkurk, Soldier Greza reporting for duty.”  

“Don’t start with all that formal crap.  That stuff will get you killed.  In this unit we don’t have ranks.  A sergeant ore even a soldier might lead the mission over the lieutenant.  It all depends on merit.  You know what to do better, then you’re in charge.” 

She had never read about a military organized in such a manner.  The only thing that came close were the Death Legion and their absolute meritocracy. 

“Is it a meritocracy like the Death Legion of old?”  She asked.

He looked up from his board.  

“You know about them, huh?”

“Yes, sir.” 

He looked back to the board and moved a piece forward. 

“We only got one female in the unit so you’re bunking with her.  She’ll be your partner so she’s responsible for teaching you everything we do.  I’ll talk to you later.”

She understood that as meaning “you’re dismissed.”  So, she looked around for the only other female. A few inquireries later and she was standing in front of a Satyr woman.  The woman had black hair that hung down over her pale face and looked as though it hadn’t seen a comb in months.  Her black eyes surrounded by dark rings looked up at her and she made a faint, humorless laugh.  She was cleaning her armor and only wore a black sleeveless shirt and black pants.  Her horns were long and only slightly curved.  She looked young, only about twenty or so, but she had dozens of faint scars on her face showing that she’d experienced more suffering than someone twice her age.

“They sent me fresh meat,” the Satyr girl said.

“I’m Greza,” she said and held out your hand. 

The Satyr shook her hand with a firm grip.

“Onata.”

Onata’s tent was right behind her but Greza didn’t move toward it yet.  This was Onata’s tent and Greza would have to show her respect if she was to be accepted as an equal. 

“We the only two woman strong enough to be scouts?”  Greza asked.

“Insane enough.  I’m not going to lie to you, this job is dangerous.  We’ll be moving out ahead of the army, scouting out for ambushes and enemy movements.  Sometimes we might have to infiltrate an enemy city or hold a bridge so it’ll still be there when the main army arrives.  Sometimes the only food we’ll have is what we can kill or steal and the only shelter are the trees and your blanket.  You sure you’re stupid enough for this job?”

“I believe I am,” Greza said. 

“Go ahead throw your stuff in there.  We got some training to do.”

Onata spent the rest of the day teaching her how to start fires, skin animals, tie certain knots and which mushrooms to avoid.  She spoke in short but clear sentences with no words wasted.  She rarely smiled and most of the time she seemed distant, as if she was only partially there. 

Despite her sickly appearance and obvious painful past, she never got angry or frustrated when Greza didn’t learn something quick enough and she taught with infinite patience. 

By supper Onata was talking about more than just training. 

“Been in the Company for two years,” Ontata said as they stood in line for chow.  “Front line infantry first year, scout the second.  Now this is my third.”

“Where were you before this?”

“A slave.”

Greza nodded.  That explained the scars.  Some masters took pride in their cruelty. 

“Same here.  I was a gladiator.” 

“I performed a different sort of show for those bastards.  One of these days the Empire will have a nice little war and I’ll be there.  I’ll make sure they pay me back in full.” 

“Is that why Richkurk put us together?”

“Nah, it’s the gender thing.  Its much less distraction to keep the genders separated, especially when out scouting alone for weeks at a time.  Understand?”

She thought she understood.  Bathing and using the bathroom while trying to find privacy was a distraction they didn’t need. 

If everything led her to be here by some fate of the Path, then was Onata part of the path or merely a part of the world?  She could go crazy thinking about what was “destiny” and what was there just because it was there.  She didn’t want to think about it so she’d have take everything as they came and go on as normal. 

How was she supposed to find the Lost Victor? 

She knew where he was though.  But she had to be certain.  And once she was certain, how could she prove it?  The Victor had a finger severed and sent to the High Priest.  Duke Verin had all fingers.  Perhaps he was some kind of “Plan B” for the Victory. 

This was too great a task for her alone.  She wished that priest had been faithful enough to help her.  He had run like a coward. 

“Eat up, Greza.  We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” Onata said.

“Why?”

“We’re moving out.  The enemy’s out there and we have to find them.”