Be Thou My Good: Chapter 6 (Patreon)

This is a chapter of this story that was not originally posted on patreon. I am backposting it and several others now so that the complete story can be viewed on this site. To read the complete story, check the collection link below.

Chapter 6: Unto Dawn

Somehow, they managed to get everyone to the center square without a riot breaking out. I blamed narrative convenience.

The crowd was thronging with women and children, though less adults than I'd expected. I guess some of the women went off to fight in the rebellion as well, no surprise there.

Catherine foundling looked small on top of the hastily erected wooden platform. Because this was my idea, naturally I was in attendance as well, And I was having trouble reconciling the almost petite girl perched on the edge of a few hastily nailed together wooden boards with the sharp and dangerous warlord who'd declared that she would rather die than be a hypocrite not 20 minutes ago.

But then, everything about Catherine foundling was a surprise. now, it was just the crowd’s turn to figure that out for themselves.

“I grew up in Laure. I know, I know. I look like I'm from the Duchy.” she gave a lopsided grin, and a loose ripple of something close to amusement went through the crowd.  She had a way with people, Catherine Foundling. “But we don't always get where we choose to be from, we don't always get to choose where we’re going either. The only thing we get to choose at the end of the day is where we die.”

Dead silence.

Foundling rose to her feet. “Six days ago, the silver Spears decided that they wanted to die in pitched battle against the 15th Legion. I obliged them. The rest of the men in this town decided they wanted to die going off to fight for a Prosseran Prince.” she waved a hand to the crowd, as another ripple, a darker one, went through them. “and yet here you all are and so am I, I guess that means neither of us want to die.”

She paused, thinking on her words. “One day ago, those same silver Spears unleashed a demon hiding in the Hills, and the soldiers that would have defended you went off to fight a different war that will see us all enslaved to just another ruler who would cut us up into new principalities just as soon as they would free us from the wasteland.” Catherine Foundling sighed running a hand through her deep black hair.

“And people still have the balls to ask why I’m on this side of the war.” She shook her head. “This is why. Because when the chips are downall of our men are soft dying to retain past glory and all of the other forces of good who sat by while we were in need, decided that now is the perfect time to exercise their divine right to liberate us from our oppressors. Who cares of a few of us die along the way?”

the crowd grew, louder people muttering, jostling, some at the edge of breaking out into terror out right.

“And so there they come again.” Catherine said. The words lingered in the air, settling over the people like a shroud.

I felt their weight.

Catherine leaned forward somehow looking larger than she had a scant few moments ago. she pointed off towards the red Sky, the moon hanging low in bloodred over the horizon. “Here they come again,” she repeated. “Will you let them have you? Now that the heroes of good are have gone? Now that there’s no one here to save you but the dammed?”

The people of March forward reacted to her words with low muttering growing darker as the truth of their situation set in. It was almost masterful, the way she taken the people that were her enemy and made them listen. They were balanced on the edge of a knife.

I waited silently for Squire to give them a push.

It shouldn’t have worked.

“The Princes take the Vales
The Demon’s at the Gate.”

I noted with surprise that Catherine Foundling had a passible voice. She carried a tune better than I could.

“Our crops wither and fail,
the enemies host is great.”

On the stage, a young Callowan girl stomped sang, her heart bleeding into each verse.

“So Pick up your sword, boy!
Here they come again.
And down here in the mud,
It’s us who holds the line.

“Man the walls, bare the steel
Hoist the banner, raise the shield!
A free man’s death they cannot steal,
When we meet them on the field!”

And when she came back to the chorus, other voices began to rise with hers.

“So pick up your sword boy!
Here they come again!”

I saw the fire light in the eyes of the weak and downtrodden here. But unlike before, it wasn’t directed at the Villain on the stage.

“And down here in the mud,
It’s us who holds the Line!”

It was directed outward, at the enemies at the gates, at the devils who came to kill them, at the Princes who would not save them.

“The knights will get the glory,
The king will keep his throne.”

Again, I say, It shouldn’t have worked.

“We won’t be in the story!
Our names will not be know!”

“So pick up your sword, bow!
Here they come again!
And down here in the mud
It’s us who hold the LINE!”

A ragged, full throated, roar rose from the crowd. Women and children raising up their firsts in unison with the Callowan Girl on the stage. The Squire’s form seemed to swell, growing larger than life.

“If you seek succor, we shall provide it. But if you should pick up your sword…” She looked over her people, eyes full of pride. “I will stand with you, down in the mud.”

The crowd started to chant. “Hold the line! Hold the line!”

Squire raised her fist again. “We will hold!” The crowd roared again.

With that, she turned striding off of the stage with her black cloak billowing out behind her. She started barking orders, to the Callowans and the legion alike.

And people moved.

I stepped forward, directing the too old and the not yet old enough towards the fall back point we'd set up around the central mansion. There were few enough of those. Even children, not old enough to stand in a shield wall, were paired up with tenths as runners. I saw a younger teen given a crossbow and being shown how to use it.

If there was a moment for treachery it was now. The Legionnaires were distracted, their men spread out, and half a dozen Callowans for every soldier in the square.

But it was never that kind of story.

Then the rest started to trickle in as word spread, boys barely on the cusp of adulthood, women ranging from barely older to those with grey in their hair, came into the square. The had heirloom weapons, old, well cared for armor. They had bows.

In a way I was still almost shocked. She’d turned them, quite literally, for a song.

I could feel the weight of the story settling around me as the Sky above continued to darken, and in the middle of it all was Catherine foundling. the rest of the city seemed to spin around her, as if stuck in her orbit.

She directed her people, finding places for them, as they slotted into old formations lacking men. orders were sent out, palisades raised, and by the time the remnants of the 15th made it back to Marchford they found a city preparing for war.

Just not the war any of them thought that they'd be fighting.

Hakram found me adjacent to the action.

His armor was scratched and charred. I notice that his skeletal arm was cracked. The tibia, or was it the fibula, was broken clean through.

I raised an eyebrow. “Trouble?”

He gave a rumbling chuckle. “We ran into devils on the way back. Nothing the scouts couldn’t handle.”

Devils, amusingly enough, seemed to be less powerful than—and in some ways not even directly related to—the demons of this reality. I’m sure the cosmology of it all was suitably fascinating, and Masego, as a designated expositional character, would be thrilled to, well, expositabout it at length.

Scouts, on the other hand, were composed almost entirely of goblin recruits. And also goblins were almost always serial killers that got off on near death situations. Or else, if that wasn't the case,  I hadn't yet discovered any evidence to the contrary .

“I can see how that would be a good match up.”

Akrem chuckled. “Yes, though they did keep calling me little boy .” he flashed a hint of Fang. “If Squire had been there it would have driven her ballistic.”

I raised an eyebrow, letting that remark pass. Though, it was good to know that Devils could speak. And here I thought we wouldn't have to deal with that kind of thing.

“It's good you got out,” I said. “And the wounded?”

A troubled expression flicked over his face. “We managed to get most of them out All the scouts ran a delaying action. But, then some of the larger ones showed up, and goblins  aren't known for their upper body strength.”

I cut back at his. “looks like we won't be retreating we wouldn't be retreating after all.”

Akrum gave a short nod. “Heiress plays a long game. If we'd left the city, we'd have run right into skewers at our flank.”

It was never fun, having a competent enemy. “Didn't Masego say the front runners wouldn’t begin to hit our defenses for at least another day?” How Else would the Legion have marched fast enough to outrun them in the 1st place?

“He didn't account for the Devils. They Can move faster, and many can fly.” He cast a weather eye skyward. “I have to let Catherine know we're going to need those fortifications up sooner rather than later period.”

“that seems like a good idea,” I said. “Is there anything you need from me?”

Hakram gave me a look. “Anything That would stack the deck in our favor would be appreciated.”

I gave a short laugh, it was a humorless sound. “I'll see what I can do.” here we were, surrounded on all sides, and me still never having learned to hold a sword. I'd made my play, now that was left was seeing it through.

Before Hakram could needle me one last time, teasing at my thoughts, a boisterous voice cut through the crowd. “Hakram!”

We both turned, catching sight of Nauk. “I hear you punched a giant snake until it died.”

Hakram gave a rumbling chuckle, but I could hear the weariness underneath. “That isn’t quite true. I used my axe.” An Axe he was currently missing, I noted.

As I looked closer, I senses a… lack of pressure around him. As if his role for the moment was played out, and it was his moment to exit stage left. An aspect, I blinked in the realization. He must have used at least one. If true, then his role was quite literally spent at the moment. You couldn’t have dramatic tension if the hero didn’t have one more trick up his sleeve.

If he stood out in the open for any longer, he was likely to get shot in the throat by a crossbow. “You two should go and find the Squire.” I gave Nauk a nod. “I’ll let you know if I turn up anything useful.”

Nauk nodded back. “I’m sure she’ll be chuffed to hear that you got into a scrap for once!” He slapped Hakram on the back.

The small orc—not that it said much—let out a pained breath, staggering half a step forward. “Perhaps, that would be a good idea.”

I was left in the middle of the hustle. A few minutes later, I saw a squad of legionary crossbowmen heading towards the East wall. I let out a sigh. I'd be no help there.

As if proving that thought, when I closed my eyes again I felt a tug in the opposite direction. There was a feeling on the tip of my tongue, as I'd left a kettle on and I needed to go that way to fix it before it boiled over.

It was a subtle thing, the nudge of the story. But then, I'd taken direction from much more recalcitrant sources in the past. Compared to the faint, almost nonexistent hand of my passenger, this sort of ‘Providence’ as the exiled Prince had called it, was almost a neon sign. I would have brushed it off, linked up with a tenth to run messages myself, or something else concretely useful.

But I’d just seen the power of the story on full display, and I would be a fool if I turned it aside now.

I moved.

My feet led me, seemingly at random, towards the Western parts of the city. I swung in a tight circle past the mansion, where even now Squire was holding her war council. A few minutes later, I found myself at the mouth of an alley, with nothing but an empty street before and behind me.

I tilted my head into the mouth of the Alley just in time to see a cloaked woman with a bow strung over her shoulder step out of the shadows.

She met my eyes and froze, hand on the hilt of a long knife at her hip.

I smiled.

“Hello there.”

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A/N: “General Kenobi.”