Accidental Healer

There was no prison in Faction LM yet, and I was frankly loath to ever need one. However, Jared convinced me whether I wanted one or not it was an absolute necessity.

He'd said something to the effect of. "Well the way I see it is, when it comes to bad guys, you can either keep or kill 'em."

So it was on the road map, along with at least a hundred other projects. For the time being, Samson and his pack of eight were on guard duty.

I waved casually "Hey Samson."

The wolf towered over me.

"Faction Leader." He growled with a slight bow.

"You can call me Layton." I sighed.

Samson bowed respectfully again.

"Can I also call you Faction Leader?" He asked without a shred of emotion.

I palmed my face, and looked at him through my open fingers. Every interaction I had with Samson or his pack, they were strictly business, soldiers through and through. Maybe a bit—too business.

If I was being completely honest, I still hadn't forgiven the wolves for evolving the way they had. Even now, I couldn't help myself from imagining creative ways we could still strap a saddle over their loose fitting shirts and trousers.

Maybe if we fashioned something that draped over their shoulders…

"Sir?"

"Huh? Right, I just need to talk with the prisoners. Have they been any trouble so far?"

Samson tilted his head. "None whatsoever. They sit, eat and sleep."

"They don't talk?" I wondered aloud.

"Not since we've arrived."

Was that weird behavior? Probably not really. They were captives, in the middle of a village that just massacred their friends and family. I probably wouldn't be all that chatty either.

"Alright, well that's good I guess. Keep up the good work." I said, patting his upper arm, and strolling up to where the survivors sat in the dirt.

Ten red orcs sat clumped in a tight bunch within a grove of tall pines that was situated just a small walk off from our village.

With hands on hips I gave the bunch of them a once over.

Shirtless as they were—or most of them were, a few women wore linen straps around their chests—they resembled red muscly boulders. A lesser man might feel a little insecure in comparison, but not me.

"Well what the hell are we supposed to do with you lot?" I asked no one in particular.

"We should just kill them sir."

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Somehow, Samson had not only followed me without me noticing but when I looked over my shoulder I nearly collided right with his chest.

"Gahh!" I stammered, taking a much needed step back. "You freaking animals, we need to put bells on each of you." I muttered under my breath.

"Bells?" Samson asked.

I waved him off, deciding it was probably not worth the explanation, instead turning my attention back to the captives.

"What do you all think of that? Should we just kill you all?"

No one so much as flinched.

"Really? No one feels like talking? You all just surrendered for no reason then?"

"No sir, I don't think so. They want to live."

I closed my eyes. "Samson."

"Sir."

"Would you mind waiting back where you were?"

His ear twitched. "I'd rather stay, it will be harder to hear from over there."

"Yes—that's true." I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. "But for now I'd like to speak with them privately."

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"It won't be private if I stand where I was. I'll still be able to hear, it will just be harder."

I couldn't help but let a small grin escape. Apparently learning to communicate did not mean a clear grasp of subtext.

"Alright, well I guess it's ok if you hear, but for now I just need you to stand over there until I'm done here. Ok?"

With a sharp bob of the head he loped back to his post.

Content I wouldn't be interrupted again, I returned my attention back to the orcs letting my grin fade.

"Alright, so no ideas about what to do with you?" A bag fell into my outstretched palm. "Fine, then I'll give 1,000 UBC's to whoever will tell me how Aggard knew so much about me."

I waited to let my offer sink in. Seconds ticked by—it was like I'd made my offer to a wall.

"No takers?"

It was possible that 1,000 UBC's really wasn't much of an offer for what I was asking of these orcs. Frankly, I was still getting a grasp on the going rate of coins in this new system. Then there was the fact that they were prisoners, what would they even do with the money?

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully.

"Sooo…? What if I offered to set every one of you free?"

My lip twitched as I noticed sideways looks between group members.

"Interested?"

A female, or what I assumed was a female, kicked a foot out hitting the foremost red orc. He grunted and glared back at her. She glared right back, I watched the staring contest unfold noting just how human the interaction seemed.

Finally, to no one's surprise, the male orc gave up.

"You won't set us free. You'll get your answers and slaughter us."

I pursed my lips. I'd already planned on my offer being met with skepticism.

"Oh really?" I folded my arms. "I'm surprised you feel that way, especially since it was your leader that intended to use my good nature to manipulate me. In fact, she seemed so confident in it she gambled her entire faction on it."

The orc didn't respond.

"Besides, what's the harm in telling me anyway? I mean really? You're already prisoners, if I'm lying that doesn't change. You have nothing to lose, and everything to gain."

"She's a veil whisperer!" A prisoner in the back shouted, and they all turned his direction.

"Quiet Talon!" The Orc in front scolded.

"Oh come off it, what difference does it make?" He stood. "She uses spiritual tethers, or trinkets of spirits passed on. Somehow you have one, that's how she learned so much about you."

In a flash, the orc in front leapt to his feat and rushed to attack Talon. Samson was on him in a second wrapping his furry arms around the orc in a tackle any NFL linebacker would be proud of. They slammed to the ground in a heap, there was a brief tussle, and the other wolves circled in but the other prisoners stayed rooted in their seats.

It wasn't long before Samson had the prisoner pinned, with his knee pressed hard into his back.

"What was that?!" I asked, pointing at the still struggling orc.

Talon laughed bitterly. "That is the act of a foolish zealot."

"Say no mor—" Samson shoved his clawed fingers over the mouth of his capture.

"Aggard was a fool, and so are you Omar." Talon chided. "Look where all those 'visions' got her."

Omar continued to fight against Samson to no avail. The rest of the prisoners watched the exchange nervously.

I reached into my pocket, fingers running over the simple iron locket. Wrapping the string around my hand I pulled it free and held it out in front of me.

"Talon. Is this the type of trinket Aggard might be tethered to?"

He waved his hand to pass it over. "Let me have a look."

I raised the locket in front of my face and felt a small tug of anxiety at the prospect of handing it over. I'd become used to its presence, and it brought me a strange peace.

But I needed to know.

With a flick, it flew into the waiting hands of Talon, who caught it easily. Using thick fingers he nimbly turned the locket over, finding the small knob that released its contents. With a soft click the locket sprung open revealing the childlike image within.

He eyed my small treasure, thumbing the back carefully.

"This is enough." He said solemnly, closing the locket and tossing it back. "It must mean something to you or Aggard wouldn't have known as much as she did."

"Why do you say that?"

He scratched his chin. "From what I understand items like those gain power from individuals they pull to it. One is clearly the kin of that little one who has passed on, but the other." He pointed at me. "What does that locket mean to you?"

My fist closed around the cool iron, and I greedily returned it to my pocket. I saw no sense in getting rid of it now that Aggard was dead.

But what did it mean to me? That was complicated.

"It's just a reminder."

Talon nodded, apparently satisfied. "Well there you have it. I've kept my end of the deal."

The group of prisoners watched me expectantly.

"And I'm a man of my word."

I shoved the locket back into its home. "But there will be some caveats. The first is that the deal now applies to everyone except Omar, indefinitely."

Talon glanced at his fellow prisoner lying face first in the dirt with a giant man wolf on top of his back.

He didn't complain.

"The second is that you will be accompanied day and night by a small retinue of guards who will watch you until I am satisfied you are no longer a threat."

Talon scoffed. "And how exactly do you intend to do that?"

I smiled. "Thirdly, you will each be required to reclassify to non-combatants once it becomes available in our faction hub."

The fact of the matter was that I simply didn't trust this group enough to allow them to level and grow more dangerous as fighters. I had no idea what kind of schemes or plans were circulating in their heads after how we dispatched their faction. Omar's action alone showed me that my superstitions weren't wholly unwarranted.

Forcing them to reclassify meant they would be less lethal in combat while still allowing them to grow and flourish. Was it the perfect solution? Definitely not.

Would it work for now?

The reactions of the prisoners varied from wide eyes snapping upward to downcast acceptance. For Talon's part, he simply smiled back wryly.

"Seems better than dying." He grunted.