263: The Rebels of Samar Patag (Part One) (Patreon)

Vir’s rebellion summons didn’t arrive quite in the manner he’d expected. Though in hindsight, he should have expected it, with all the glances Janani was throwing his way these days. She must have thought he wouldn’t notice, but he did. Her skills at subterfuge left much to be desired.

Vir had just been thinking of the glacial progress he was making with Ekanai in the mindscape—of the long journey that was Chakra mastery—when Janani finally said something.

“They wish to meet with you,” Janani said, averting her eyes. “They’ve been… impressed with your exploits.”

“My exploits?” Vir asked innocently. He sipped the tea she’d prepared, looking her over appraisingly.

“I wasn’t sure at first,” Janani said, squirming under his gaze, “but it’s much too much of a coincidence. The masked hero. Vaak—of Ash. The one who’s been galavanting as a Chitran Warrior Calling, stealing food.”

“Oh, that guy,” Vir replied. “Yeah, I’ve heard of him. What a chal, huh?”

Janani threw Vir an unamused look. “The timing is too perfect. Every time this Vaak character steals food, Greesha’s food stores grow. Every time—I’ve checked! Greesha refuses to say a word about this to me. She’s never been so withdrawn! If that isn’t suspicious, I don’t know what is!”

Vir didn’t reply immediately. It’d be difficult to dupe Janani for much longer if she’d gone to such lengths. Not that he ever intended to. It’d be bad if word got out to the general populus about his exploits, but with Janani running the orphanage, he figured it was only a matter of time until she learned.

“You’re certainly thorough,” Vir admitted.

“Neel, who are you?” Janani asked.

“What do you mean?” Vir asked, keeping his expression perfectly neutral.

“I mean, you suddenly appear out of nowhere, not knowing our most basic customs.”

“I was training—”

“Training in the Ash. Yes, you’ve said so. Several times. But why help us when you have no attachment to this city? Why put your life in such danger? Why start all… this?” she asked, pointing to a black wooden mask on a nearby table. It was just one of many that had started circulating around the orphanage. These days, it was hard to go a hundred paces without encountering someone wearing a black mask.

It’d been mayhem for the Chitran guards, which worried Vir. Thus far, the masked figures had kept to themselves, only sometimes causing crimes, but if left unchecked, it’d get out of hand.

It was, in fact, Vir’s most pressing concern. He’d wanted to create a symbol, but he’d never planned for it being such a success. He feared he’d set into motion events that were quickly spiraling out of his control. It needed to be stopped—and soon.

“This may sound crazy,” Janani murmured, “but… Are you the Akh Nara?”

Vir laughed, which made Janani’s face flush.

“Right. Sorry. Forget I said anything,” Janani said hastily, twiddling her thumbs.

“Can you accept that I’m just someone who sympathizes with your plight? I… just want to do what I can. While I can.”

Janani fell quiet. “You’ve already done so much. Who among us can question you? I can scarcely recall a time where we’ve eaten this well. The children are happier than ever. This is… truly a blessing.”

“It’s nothing that impressive… but, well. You’re with the rebellion. Aren’t you?”

Janani nodded. “How could I not be? The sooner we escape the thumb of the Chitran, the better it will be for the children. For myself, as well. There was a time when I’d have fought for the future of this city. Now… Now, I just want to live like a normal person.”

Vir hesitated. “What you told the kids the other day. About the Akh Nara. Do you really believe all that?”

Janani smiled, embarassed. “I apologize for earlier,” Janani said with a smile. “I suppose if you’d asked me only weeks ago, I’d have said yes. I needed the Akh Nara, you see. After so long dealing with the Chitran… with our situation… I needed hope. Something to help carry us through our day. Even if that was nothing but a fantasy. Also, the kids really do enjoy stories about the Akh Nara. Sometimes, I worry if they’ll all develop hero complexes as a result.”

“But now?” Vir asked, sensing where this was going.

“Well… now, we don’t need the Akh Nara. We have you.”

Vir bit his lip. I was afraid of this.

“I really think you should meet the rebellion,” Janani said. “They’ve been anxious.”

“You’ve told them about me, then?”

Vir hadn’t exactly been forthright with her about his identity, but he’d hoped she’d exercise discretion on this matter.

Janani shook her head. “I have not. But I am not the only one noticing the changes in the children. Some among the rebellion have pieced together that the fruits of the raids may be finding their way into our hands. It has been… difficult to deny. Several are convinced I know your identity.”

Which, of course, means the Chits have caught on as well.

The reason the Chitrans hadn’t yet mobilized was precisely because of the mask sitting on the table. When everyone was Vaak, how could they be sure? When every downtrodden Gargan wore the mask, how could they know they weren’t about to attack a high-ranking Chitran Warrior?

No Chitran wanted to be the one to take the fall for that.

And so, they were left alone, and a tenuous peace existed.

Yet Vir knew well just how fragile that peace was. The moment a rebel, or a desperate Gargan, lashed out and hurt—or killed—a guard, there’d be war.

“I have to say, I never figured you were one of them,” Vir said, understanding the real reason Greesha had sent him here. It was smart of her to do so. Vir was hooked right into sympathizing with the orphans, and now, he’d been dangled as bait for the rebellion.

“Truly? I’d have thought the opposite,” Janani said. “Would you like to meet them?”

“Of course,” Vir replied without hesitation. It’d been his plan to link up with the rebellion all along. Only Greesha’s words of caution had given him pause. Of how the rebellion was composed of fanatics, and to exercise extreme caution about who he revealed his identity to.

But then, that was the beauty of disguise—it never just had to be a single layer. He’d admit to the rebels that he was Vaak—Warrior of Ash, responsible for the symbol that was Demon God Vaak, and for stealing the orphans’ food.

His mask would be peeled back, but all they would find was another layer. For he wouldn’t divulge that he was Sarvaak, son of Maion and Shari, prince of Garga. He wouldn’t say he was the Akh Nara.

Not yet. Not until he’d gained his people’s favor.

Vir rose. “Take me to them.”

— —

Vir entered the warehouse hoping to learn how the rebellion conducted their daily business. He figured such an organization would have several tricks and tactics for conducting clandestine operations under the Chitrans’ watchful eye. He also wanted to gauge their cohesion and capabilities.

As such, he’d asked Janani not to introduce him right away, and pretended to be a new member that she vouched for. He’d remained at the back of the storehouse all the while. Listening. Observing.

Now, less than an hour later, Vir wanted to groan.

“And I’m saying we ought to strike while the iron’s hot!” someone said. “We’ve never had a better chance to take down the Chitrans! The people will unite. We have the numbers!”

“There’ll be no one to stop us. Once we take Samar Patag, the Chitran will have no choice but to let us keep it!” another stated with absolute confidence.

This wasn’t a rebellion. It was a hodgepodge group of downtrodden Gargans driven to desperate measures.

“Count me out. You lot want to get yourselves killed, go right ahead,” a gruffy looking demon said.

“Cowardice is what they’re relying on! Don’t you see that? Fine. Stay behind. I’ll storm the castle myself if I have to. Vaak will protect us!”

The room erupted into arguments and insults, and all the while, Janani kept stealing looks at Vir, pleading with him to do something.

Vir, in fact, wanted to do the exact opposite. He would’ve liked nothing more than to slip away, but as the cause of this heated debate, he felt like he had an obligation to intervene. If left unchecked, Vir was certain these rebels’ actions would end in tragedy. Not just for them, but for Gargans everywhere.

“No, I will not,” Vir said, donning his mask.

The rebels turned.

“Who the grak are you?”

“Everyone!” Janani said energetically, “allow me to introduce tonight’s guest of honor. Vaak—of Ash.”

The room silenced, as if someone had cast a muting spell on their throats. All eyes rested on Vir.

“You sure?” someone asked. “Anyone can wear that mask. How do we know it’s really him?”

“Because I vouch for him. As several of you have suspected, Vaak has indeed assisted the orphanage. For the first time in years, the children have more food than they can eat. All thanks to him.”

A wave of whispered chatter filled the warehouse, and among them, grumbles of skepticism. It’d take more than Janani’s words to convince them.

Luckily, solving this issue was simple.

Vir Blinked into the middle of the crowd. His talwar flashed, and the thick logs that had been stacked on a pallet were suddenly bisected into two.

The grumbling silenced. The crowd moved away, giving him a wide berth. This time, there was no doubt as to their feelings.

“By Adinat, it’s really him!”

“It is,” Vir said, slowly panning his head across the audience. “And as I just said, I will not support you in this attack.”

“Why not? Is this not why you’ve done all this? Why you spread your name? Our hour is at hand!” someone said.

Each face that stared back at Vir was weary and haggard. Hardly surprising, given what they’d endured. And yet, each and every rebel in the room had defiance burning in their hearts. These people would go to any length to strike against the Chitran.

They reminded Vir of the Pagan Order… Except while the Order was organized, disciplined, and well supplied, these people had nothing. No army, no resources, no real leadership, and no strategy.

And that was exactly what worried Vir. They were both brave enough and foolish enough to do something drastic. A ragtag band trying to hurt the Chitran without understanding the consequences of their actions would have disastrous repercussions for all of Samar Patag.

“You’ve relit the flame of hope in us,” Janani said quietly. “The Gargans are finally standing up to the Chitran, all because of you.”

“Then tell me,” Vir said, addressing the room. “What exactly is your plan? Convince me you have a chance at this.”

“It’s simple. We’ll rally all the Gargans, and together, we’ll storm the castle.”

“Oh? And how do you intend to breach it? What strategic magic or siege equipment do you have in reserve?”

“That’s… We don’t need any of that. Against our numbers, what can they do?”

“And how many would join your little crusade, hmm?”

“All the Gargans, obviously. There are thousands of us! Easily more than the guards.”

“And how many of them possess Aspect tattoos?” Vir asked. “How many are trained in the way of the blade? You are talking of Laborer and Outcast Callings, many of whom have never seen combat a day in their life. Elderly, children, and starving adults unfit to fight. You’ve all seen the slums. Half the population is so far gone, they can barely even stand. Let alone fight.”

The room was silent, but Vir wasn’t done.

“You said you’d ‘round up the Gargans’. Pray tell, where will you obtain the talwars and armor for your troops? Why would anyone risk their lives fighting against a trained enemy with nothing but his fists? An enemy who has beat them down time and time again. You say there is hope now, and I agree. There is. But there is a realm of difference between hope and suicide. Your people are bent, broken, untrained, and ill-equipped.”

This time, the silence was oppressive.

“You would have us sit still? Against them?” someone shouted. Vir felt the frustration and the agony in their voice. “You’re out of your mind! No. You’re worse. You’re a coward. We don’t need you. We can do this on our own.”

Vir Blinked to the demon—a four-armed man—who’d said that.

“You call me a coward? Me? Who’s been risking their life raiding food stores? Who’s been feeding the orphans?”

Vir backed off from the terrified demon, taking a moment to compose himself. “Very well then,” he said. “I propose a deal.”

Vir brandished his talwar, pointing it at demons around the room.

“Fight me. Here and now. Together. All of you. If any of you manage to land even a single blow on me, I’ll support whatever plan you come up with. But if you cannot, we do things my way. Understood?”

“You? Alone?” The demon scoffed. “You may be strong, but it seems your time in the Ash has made you overconfident.”

“What’s it matter?” another said. “If it means getting him to help, I say we put him in his place.”

The crowd tightened the noose around Vir.

“Gladly,” the demon said.

Vir smiled, but there was no mirth in his eyes. The rebels were about to learn a painful lesson. One that he would carve into their bones and etch into their skulls.

A lesson they would never forget.