//------------------------------// // Chapter 14: Favors and Loopholes // Story: The Survival Of The Species // by Borderline Valley //------------------------------// James Mender “That’s enough for the night. You two can go home.” Hayley and Devin give me a short bow of acknowledgement before leaving the building without any more comment than a sigh of relief. It’s been a long day, but with the sacrifices patrols have been bringing in, we were able to release the last of our patients from the battle, so it’s been satisfying. I made sure to send them straight to the captain so they could get caught up on recent events. After all, the fact that we have a god on our side is rather important news to know. Of course, my little hospital is nowhere near empty. My four long-term patients still are waiting on a cure. I gravitate towards the alchemist’s station. Now that we have women and civilians combing the forest again, I’ve been getting more than just the same set of herbs to work with. I’m not making as much progress as I’d like, but I’ve been successfully recreating most of the important staples a hospital needs. Now I just need to find a cure for petrification. “James! Just the man I was looking for!” an overly exuberant voice calls out to me, just as I reach my station. At the door, Discord is snickering at some private joke as he enters my hospital. I favor the god with a calculating gaze, careful not to glance towards my patients. “To what do I owe the honor, great one?” He taps a clipboard that he manifests out of seemingly nothing. “Oh just a few questions, if you don’t mind answering them.” “I could,” I agree, “But I would like to ask a favor, while you are here.” The god’s grin only widens. “Is that so? Care to make it interesting?” I’m not exactly interested, “Why complicate it? An honest answer for a simple favor.” “Oh hear me out, I need some excitement after that Rodin fellow nearly talked my ear off about his magic idea.” … I decide not to mention that I had been helping Rodin flesh out that idea for the last few days, so I say nothing. After a few moments of silence, Discord sighs. “Fine, questions first, then we’ll talk about the favor.” I nod, that’s probably the best I’m going to get. “So,” he says, putting on some sort of glass half-circles held by a wire frame, on his face, “What is your opinion on cats.” I tilt my head at the seemingly out-of-place question. “Cats are small animals that hunt for their food. They are not sentient, and covered in fur. Some people find them to be good pets. I find them to be better sacrifices.” Discord raised his glass-frames and gave me a disappointed look. “Really. Well, I would ask that you refrain from using anyone’s pet as a sacrifice when you can avoid it.” I nod in agreement. It’s a good rule of thumb to go by. Though it’s kind of patronizing that he feels compelled to point it out. “Next question. What do you call this thing that you do with the sacrifices?” “Spirit Weaving.” “What is your favorite kind of wood?” “… Oak.” “If I were to give you magic abilities, what would you want and why?” “Regeneration and magically strong self-control. I would want humanity to possess regeneration so that my skills were not needed, and I want better control over the skills I already possess.” Throughout the exchange, Discord is scribbling furiously on his clipboard with a quill. “… and that’s it,” the clipboard and glass-frames vanish in a puff of smoke and Discord cracks his back rather loudly. “So, about the favor… Here’s my bet. I’ll grant you not just one favor, but five. You can spend them however and whenever you want, and only favors you deliberately ask me for count. Anything I do without you, James Mender, asking me to, won’t count against you. I bet that you will spend all five of them within a single year of today. If you don’t, I’ll grant you one more favor. If you do, you have to do a favor for me, one I know you won’t like.” Discord’s grin is infectious. “Of course, this is a friendly bet. I’ll refrain from twisting your favors against you if you refrain from abusing them too badly. And no granting multiple favors as a favor. That’s my sort of thing.” It’s… a lot to think about. On the one hand, making a bet with the god of chaos has ‘bad idea’ written all over it. On the other hand… this is five favors from a god we’re talking about here. That’s a valuable resource if there ever was one. It would make life so much easier, knowing that I could call upon him if I really needed to. Then again… what could he possibly want from me as a favor? What could he ask of me that I wouldn't be willing to give, and that he couldn’t do himself? All I have to go on is that it’s something I won’t like… “I’ll make that bet. It seems like I have little to lose and everything to gain.” “It does seem that way, doesn't it.” Discord admits, looking thoughtful. He shrugs. “So what’s favor number one going to be?” I gesture at my four patients. “I would like you to heal these four of their afflictions.” Barely missing a beat, Discord floats over to where my long-term guests are clustered. He chuckles darkly at seeing the two statues; though he doesn't explain the joke. Instead of curing them first Discord begins examining my other two patients. I stand opposite him, wondering what he will do. “Well this is a rather nasty piece of work.” He mutters. “What is it? Neither Rodin nor I can detect whatever is keeping the wounds from healing.” “I’m not surprised. Whatever made these wounds… well, let’s just say it was a… ‘god’ that must have done it and leave it at that.” Discord says somberly. I get only a moment, to wonder how these two are still alive after making a god angry enough to strike them down, before he cracks yet another mischievous grin, “I have just the right tool to fix it, however.” There is a snap of his fingers, a frown, followed by three more snaps, each accompanied by a bright light from the wounds of these two. Their wounds vanish before my eyes, limbs regrown in an instant; as if they were never gone, only unseen. With a casual glance over his shoulder and a flick of his tail, my two petrified guards begin turning back into flesh and blood. My mouth starts to form words to thank him, when Discord’s claws snap a final time; with that last one I can feel all of my stasis spells shatter, like so much glass. “Wha?!” The man nearest me sits bolt-upright and his eyes begin darting around, looking for danger that isn’t there. I spend a fraction of a second confirming that, yes, Discord seems to have vanished, before attempting to calm down the four, blessedly whole, people who are all in some level of panic. Leo Fisherman I awake in a strange place, on a foreign bed, in some sort of large, stone building. The scent of old dust and blood is gone, replaced with the aroma of foul medicines. Adrenaline fills my veins as my memory tells me that this is no place I am familiar with. I sit upright, one hand shooting to my waist, where I find a distinct lack of sword hilt. “Wha?!” To my right, I see Sir Winter, arousing from some slumber. She lies in a bed similar to my own, in fact, one of many that line the sides of this large room. Two more awaking men occupy beds farther down, and my eyes are drawn to the weapons and armor that adorn their sides. To my left an old man with graying hair stands regarding me passively with an unreadable expression. My eyes note the doorway, it is unguarded, but the man stands between me and freedom. “I am glad that you are awake and whole again. Please, feel free to get up, but I must ask you to remain calm for the time being.” The old man intones in an easy voice. The sound of bare feet hitting the stone tiles of the floor echoes lightly, as I see Sir Winter standing up, looking at me with concern and fear in her eyes. “Is this the afterlife?” she asks the old man. My mind is brought forcefully back to my latest of memories; the feel of that cursed blade cutting through one of my legs, and then my other. The rhythms of that madman’s laughter still rings in my ears. Looking down, I can see that I am in possession of all my limbs again. Is it true? Did she die with me there? If so, then why did those two get to bring their weapons with them to the afterlife? I miss my sword already… “No… Though it might as well be.” The old man speaks slowly and at a measured pace, as if he has all the time in the world, and wants to make sure he is saying exactly what he means to. “Mr. Cerill, Mr. Harvest, you've been out long enough to need debriefing. Please report to Captain Weathers immediately.” As the old man addresses the ones in armor, I get up from the bed, testing my new legs. I didn't have long to miss my old ones, but being without them at all makes me appreciate them a bit more now. “Yes, sir!” Both guards reply, before jogging out the building. I exchange a look with Sir Winter. We both want to know what’s going on. “Before you ask, let me make this very clear; we are no longer home.” The old man begins, sitting on a spare bed as he speaks. “We are, quite literally, on a different world than that we were born on.” That… is disturbing. All sorts of ideas and theories fill my head, which I shake in frustration. “… How?” I manage to ask. “No one knows the specifics, but essentially… We lost.” “Lost what?” Sir Winters asks, “Lost the battle?” “The War.” He clarifies. How could that be? The war was one in defense of all of creation. If we lost, then how would we even know-… We’re on a different world. “No…” I breathe, as my vision starts tunneling. All of my friends, every member of my family, are dead. No, it’s more than just them; all of humanity is dead, along with every other life on our planet. I can’t help but wonder if our gods survived the apocalypse… NO!! I hadn't noticed before, but now that I feel for it, my connection to the gods is gone! Severed! As if I had never formed that connection in the first place! My eyes widening in panic, I grip Winters by the shoulders and demand her attention- I have to know! “D- Do you feel it?” My gaze and hers lock, my panicked one meeting hers of shock and growing horror. “No.” she whispers, her expression melting into one of sorrow. The anguish at loosing such an intimate connection to our creators is compounded by not even knowing how or why we no longer have that connection in the first place. Surely we have not fallen! I think I would remember that! “So you were Paladins,” the old man states, making the observation without any trace of emotion. “We were,” I manage to choke out. “Would you grant us some time to grieve?” The old man considers this for a moment, before nodding slowly. “Someone should be grieving for what we have lost, though we have been too busy to do it. You have lost more than many of those here can claim to as well. I give you until tomorrow at noon, and ask that you do not leave this room. There is much that must be explained to you about this new world.” With that, the old man opens some sort of passage in the wall and descends a staircase, leaving us to our tears. Derik Nettin Captain Weathers gave me the task of bringing the two once-petrified guards up to speed. It’s actually kind of surreal, seeing how much everything has changed in such a short time. Not even a month has passed, and yet they need me to walk them through what amounts to a short class in our new responsibilities. I point once more at the series of drawings that my superiors had supplied me with. “These are all creatures that have sentience in this world. We are the strangers here, and this world apparently runs a little differently than we’re used to.” I pick up a particular set of drawings, depicting a chimera-like figure, and hand them to the two guards. “Memorize this image. This is the image of a physically present god that has befriended us. The Captain says that the god is effectively above him in the chain of command now, so you’d better know who he is when you see him, and give him the respect he deserves.” As that sinks in, I fish around in my desk for a copy of another set of drawings. Handing them out to them I fix them each with an appraising glare. “These drawings show another entity that goes by the name ‘Fluttershy.’ The Captain has her marked as a VIP; our orders are to be capable of recognizing her on sight, and to guarantee the safety of her person as she is highly favored by the god. The Captain has stated to treat her as if she has the effective rank of a platoon leader, and you will follow that chain of command should the situation arise. She also happens to be highly placed in pony society, along with these other five. You are ordered to memorize all seven of them, and will cooperate with your platoon leaders to keep up to date on recent events and on any shift in policy regarding these individuals.” Moving on, I point to a series of pictures representing the four pony sub-types. “These races are classified as friendly, and we are not permitted to use lethal force in dealing with them at this time.” I shift to the pictures that showcase diamond dogs and changelings. “In contrast, these are classified as hostile, yet we have standing orders not to engage unless provoked. Lethal force is permitted when engaging them, however.” Grasping a final image, I indicate the griffon it depicts. “This is an image of a griffon. They are an unknown. They are dangerous and are to be avoided when possible. We are not permitted to use lethal force at this time.” I double-check to make sure they each have a copy of each drawing, and send them off to meet with their respective squads. Any further clarification should be covered by the platoon leaders, as per the tri-weekly session plan Vern drew up. With the way things are changing recently, we agreed that having a system for keeping the whole guard ‘in the know’ was worth the extra effort. Of course, it also meant that there was an extra occasion with which to hammer in some of those important details; details, which might make the difference between extinction and survival. Angering a god tends to have those sorts of wide-spread effects. A glance out of a nearby window shows that it is definitely night time, and I suppress a yawn. These last few days have been pleasantly stressful, in the ‘paperwork’ sort of way. It’s a welcome change from the ‘fighting for your life’ sort of stressful, though it takes a hard toll on my sleep either way. Of course, now I have a new problem; shifting around the squads now that two of our long-term injured have come back to active duty… I bid the moon outside farewell as I settle myself down to focus on the paperwork. Captain Weathers The sun shines high above the horizon, bathing everything in its orange glow as the combination of civilians and guards musters before me. Platoon leaders are giving the speeches we've drilled into them to the civilians and the women, telling them what would be expected of them in certain situations or emergencies. I do not want another repeat of the wolf incident. It does not take long, and soon enough the morning patrols are ready to head out. I open my mouth to give the order- “Well hello there Captain! Long time no see!” I turn to face the owner of the voice, having already identified it. “Hail, Discord!” I bark, dropping to one knee in salute. “Hail, Discord!” With a decent portion of the guard behind me, following suit, the civilians present are no more than a heartbeat behind in their own greeting. “You know, I could get used to that. But it might get old…Anyway, up, Captain! I have good news and bad news today!” As I rise to my feet, I see that Discord’s expression is one of barely restrained glee. I am unsure as to whether this is a good thing. “Right. SO! Good news first! I've talked to my friends on the ‘other’ side, and got everything squared away. The afterlife is now equipped to properly deal with you guys. The bad news is that I had to take some of their problems off their hands for them.” Discord waved, and a dozen motes of light swirled around his paw. “I won’t bore you with the specifics, but this is the result.” He snapped his claw, and I averted my eyes in time to not be blinded by the flash of bright light. What I see when I turn to look again causes several of my men, and nearly my own self, to burst into unashamed tears: Twenty-nine men, standing in a group, blinking as if disoriented. I recognize them all by face and name. Hail Discord!