Enmity of Atlas

“I suppose I should have asked this before, but the healing thing is true, right?” Belathial said.

Trenton tried to respond, but his voice caught in his throat, sending him into a fit of coughs, blood spewing forth from his various open orifices and wounds freely, “Y-yes. I’ll be fine by tomorrow morning,” Trenton managed, relaxing back into the ground. It would take a colossal effort if he intended to stand, best to just rest for a little bit first. Although he was losing a lot of blood. Ah, he’d be fine…probably.

“Thank the gods!” Belathial sighed. “I was a little worried when I saw the arm come off. I could track down the bird, sure, but trying to salvage flesh from that thing would be…tedious. Anyway, good fighting! I imagine you’ve never fought a spatial mage before, have you?”

“No, I haven't. I had to…improvise.”

“And improvise you did! Even some of the best warriors we have struggle against spatial magic, and they’ve got some of the best trainers the world over. Although…I don’t think anyone we have can really hold a candle to Walibeld. Apparently, back when he was the Benevolent’s right hand, he was quite the formidable foe.”

“Wait, Walibeld was the Benevolent’s right hand?” Trenton said, trying to sit up again, stopping at a twang of pain in his side.

“Didn’t he tell you? I don’t know the specifics, but we have hundreds of records from centuries ago all about him. The old kings of Verulik were terrified of him, apparently, more so than even the Benevolent himself. If Walibeld was even slightly more aggressive, or if the Benevolent was slightly less cowardly, then it’s hard to say if Verulik would even exist as a country today. I know the guardians are supposed to keep the world powers balanced and what not, but back then, there wasn’t anyone in the 5 kingdoms that could stand up to Walibeld besides the Benevolent and Era, both of whom were allied to him. The only two that might’ve been able to do something would’ve been the Heavenly or the Watcher, but it’s not like they’d ever actually intervene personally.”

“He never said a word about this. I knew he was close with Era and the Benevolent, but serving as his right hand? Hard to believe.”

“You’d have to ask him. Regardless, I can see why Geren liked you so much, now. You’re tenacious if nothing else. If you weren't so weak, you’d be an awfully formidable foe. Consider my timbers officially shivered,” Belathial laughed. “Anyway, I got all I wanted. Best of luck to you!” Belathial turned to leave, pausing after a few steps. “Oh, and as a word of advice, never stand still when facing a spatial mage. That’s how they get you. Ask someone more scholarly about it if you want specifics. The technical explanation is long and confusing. Anyway, see ya! Let me know when you stop in Dasellium! Then we can spar for real!” Belathial called over his shoulder, disappearing into thin air. Was that…a threat? It sounded like it. Not to mention, didn’t Elivias say he was going to make it worth Trenton’s while? Trenton should’ve asked Belathial about it before he left. Well, too late now. Hopefully they’d left him something at least. Seeing the state he was in, they’d have to give him something very special to make up for this fight. Trenton preferred not to bleed out on a Tuesday without a really good reason.

“Over here!” A man shouted from off in the distance, interrupting Trenton’s self pity parade.

Trenton couldn’t see them, but he could feel their footsteps as they approached, a hoard of heavily armed individuals surrounding him on every side. They peered down at him with a mix of horror and concern, some of them staggering backwards, faces pale.

“Holy shi-”

“What the hell happen-”

“It looks fresh-”

“We need to stabaliz-”

They all clamored around him, bickering amongst each other, no one coming to any sort of decision. The only one that looked to be calm was a finely aged dwarven man staring at Trenton with his arms crossed. He stood slightly off to the side, taking the whole scene in, presumably coming to some sort of decision, approaching Trenton when he’d made up his mind. He kneeled down close to Trenton’s head, whispering to him while everyone else continued to panic.

“You’re sitting in a pool of blood twice yer size. Explain that to me, would ya?”

“What do you mean?” Trenton said, dimly tracking the dwarf with his eyes.

“You’ve bled enough to die four times over, and it’s all fresh. Doesn’t make any sense.”

Using his one free arm, Trenton felt around himself, twisting his neck as far as he could to see the pool of blood underneath him. Sure enough, it was like looking into a crimson pond, more blood surrounding him than Trenton had ever seen one man produce.

“I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t. If I’ve still blood to spare, then I’ll be fine. Would you give me a hand?” Trenton holding his hand out to the dwarf.

The stout man hesitated, his eyes flitting between Trenotn’s hand and the blood. But after a moment, he relented, hoisting Trenton to his feet. It was tenuous, but he could stand well enough, his legs only slightly shaking, his body only slightly aching, and his blood only slightly drenching the ground beneath himself. Trenton looked over at the dwarf, giving him a weak smile to show his gratitude, which the dwarf returned, his brow still knitted.

All of them appeared to be city soldiers, but the one that had helped Trenton up had a slightly different outfit to the others, steel plate with red highlights and a special symbol branded on his chestplate. He was probably someone of some local prominence, a captain, maybe. He opened his mouth to say something to Trenton, but suddenly someone pushed their way through the crowd, another lower guard, whispering something into the captain’s ear. The captain stopped trying to talk and nodded, eye’s closed, listening intently.

“Are you sure? What about damages?” The captain muttered, doing his best to keep his voice low.

“Minimal, sir. They left behind quite a bit of money. We’ll have plenty left over,” the lower soldier said, giving the captain a salute.

“Right,” the captain said, stroking his thick beard. “File an official report and throw the money in with the rest of the grants. I’ll see to it when I get back. Now,” the captain turned his attention back to Trenton, the rest of the guards still gawking at Trenton’s remarkable fortitude and rampant blood loss, “looks like there’s not much we can do to help you. I’m not sure the exact circumstances, but the generals outrank me hundredfold. Any decision they make is beyond my authority to overturn. Fiffy!” The captain shouted, looking past Trenton to a little dwarf standing slack jawed next to Trenton, eyes wide, staring at the growing crimson puddle spreading out in every direction beneath them.

Fiffy snapped to attention, caught off guard by the sudden summons, “Yes, sir!?” Fiffy said, panicking into a sloppy salute. The captain didn’t say anything, merely motioning towards Trenton as if it was obvious what he was supposed to be doing. “I-I don’t think I can really…” The captain's gaze intensified, boring straight through Fiffy’s skull. “R-r-right! Yes, sir. On it,” Fiffy approached Trenton, pulling out a medical kit, his hands glowing faintly green, the rest of the dwarves standing back to give them space.

Trenton took a step back from the approaching dwarf, shaking his head, “No, I don’t have time to waste here. Do you have a needle and some thread?” Trenton said, nodding towards the medical kit.

“You can’t be serious! If you don’t-” Fiffy said.

“Do you have a needle and thread?” Trenton asked again, growing impatient.

“I do, but you can’t-”

“Please,” Trenton said, holding out his hand.

“Just humor him, Fiffy. We don’t really have the time for this, either. The longer we wait, the more work we’ll have when we get back to post,” the captain said.

Fiffy wavered, clearly torn, but eventually he acceded, handing Trenton a needle with a spool of thread attached. Trenton had never done it personally, but he’d watched Mave suture his cuts closed hundreds of times. Even if it was rough, so long as he could stem the bleeding some, it’d be alright. There wasn’t much he could do about his arm, but the gashes he got from bouncing along the ground he could at least tend to.

Trenton stumbled out of the little circle of dwarves, using his one arm to dig the needle into his flesh, very roughly yanking the skin closed. It was a rough patch job, but it did help the bleeding a little bit. At least he wouldn’t leave a massive trail of blood back to Evai’s, just a small one.

“You gonna be alright on yer own, lad?” The captain called out, surprisingly trusting of Trenton’s abilities.

“Fine, truly. You can return to whatever you were doing. I’ll see myself home,” Trenton said, yanking the needle through his skin once more as he talked, biting off the end of the thread to allow himself to start on another gash.

It hurt, but not very much, not in comparison to what he’d suffered so far. A needle in his skin was the least of his worries. What really concerned him was a sudden revelation he had as he stumbled through the city, doing his best to keep guards and citizens from bugging him–he hadn’t seen Karfice or Garrote since yesterday morning. It was possible that Karfice slept through the night, Leo safe by his side, but Garrote was another story. If he was still wandering somewhere in the city, then he was potentially in danger. There was no telling how close enemies could be lurking, especially after the letter he’d received last night…maybe Trenton had better have a look around before he went back, take a little detour. The other’s would be fine without him for a couple extra hours, surely.