Chương 206: Day Two Hundred And Four

Dear Diary, Fuckin' Wagner. Fuckin' Valkyries. Fuckin' 'Choosers of the Slain'. Fuck them all with the entirety of the fat lady while she's singing. When the guy in the fancy suit dropped his verbal bomb, Larry looked at me, stricken, clearly torn between his Duty as my XO and his need to be by his brother.

"Go. I'll take care of things here and be right behind you." He nodded, his relief palpable. He turned to suit-boy and asked, "he's in the heir's suite?" At the guy's nod, he said, "Gregor, show Commander Diaz to the suite as soon as she's done here."

"Yes, sir," Gregor replied, bowing to Larry. But Larry was already gone, crossing the courtyard at a dead sprint, going at least as fast as I could have without Translocating. I turned to the guy and said, "good to meet you, Gregor, I'm Cadet Tabitha Diaz, commander of the Phileo City Expedition to Lancaster House. I've got three hundred Volunteers, ten Cadets inclusive of myself and Cadet Lancaster, a couple dozen civilians, who all could use a hot meal and a warm bunk.

Oh, and a bunch of cattle and sheep that ought to be penned somewhere." I held out my hand to him. He looked at me a little weird, like I'd just flashed him my tits or something, then reached tentatively toward my hand. I grabbed his and shook, then asked, "you the butler here or something?" His eyes got a little wide and he replied, "no. I'm Mister Lachlan's batman." After a moment of obvious internal struggle, he nodded toward the big 'bunkhouse' to our right.

"I believe there are open barracks in the North wing, and I'm certain the staff can open up some guest rooms in the main house for your Cadets. The others..." After a short pause he said, "I suppose the livestock can be penned in the basement of the North wing, as can your other followers." I deliberately ignored his banishing the civvies to the basement, turned around, and shouted, "Cadets, rally on me!" Thirty seconds later, despite the ice on the ground, the remaining eight Cadets surrounded Gregor and I.

"Okay, I've got to go give Larry a hand with Lachlan. While I'm in there, get the troops and the baggage train settled into the North wing," I pointed to the building Gregor had indicated.

"Once that's done get yourselves inside the main building and out of the cold. Bill, you're in charge until Larry or I get back. Any questions?"

"No, ma'am!" If the sudden shouted reply echoing off the tall, flat walls of the courtyard surprised me, I saw from the corner of my eye it definitely had the right effect on Gregor. As Bill turned to the rest of the Cadets and started divvying up who was in charge of what, I turned back to Gregor.

"Okay, batman, let's go catch up to Larry." Of course, despite some pretty impressive acrobatics on his run out, Gregor maintained a careful, dignified pace on the way back. I couldn't really blame him, because most of the courtyard was icy as shit, so I bit my tongue rather than shouting at him. I didn't even consider picking him up and Translocating to the doorway. More than twice.

When we made it to the big fuckin' main doors, which had a 'smaller' four foot wide by eight foot tall door set into the right one, he paused to scrape his shoes on a scraper set into the doorway. I cleared my throat and, when he looked at me, said, "look Gregor, I get that Larry really needed to be at his brother's bedside, but Lachlan's a friend of mine, too, and not to put too fine a point on it, but I'm a better Healer than Larry, so could you possibly hurry the fuck up?"

When I hissed those last few words at him, he blanched, nodded, and led me inside.

"Please follow me, commander." At that last word, two guys in Guard uniforms with Lancaster crests where I expected to see Phileo ones paused, obviously unable to parse the idea of me being a commander. Can't really blame them, but I certainly wasn't going to slow down and explain things to them. Gregor didn't sprint, but his pace went from 'dignified walk' to 'just shy of running', and when he hit the steps at the back of the entry hall, he took them two at a time.

That pace gave me time to glance around the entry hall as we speed walked through it. An area roughly half the size of the Academy's Practice Yard with a flat ceiling four stories up, with balconies ringing the room on every side except the front. Two grand staircases ran from the corners opposite the doors all the way up to the fourth floor balcony, with short landings at each floor. As we passed the second floor I got a view of a two story tall dining hall with a huge fireplace at the far end.

When we got to the stop of the fourth flight of stairs, with Gregor breathing a little heavy, I glanced back at the front wall and got a glimpse of a huge shuttered circular stained glass window with a fancy 'L' right smack dab in the middle of it. The Lancasters were rich and powerful as fuck, but humility? Never heard of it, must be some poor people thing they were too rich to understand.

The fourth floor had a big central room, maybe a quarter the width of the building, with doors along both side walls and a huge fireplace set right in the middle of the room, surrounded on all sides by furniture that reminded me of the 'men's club' shit you'd see in old British movies; leather covered chairs set in groups of one to four, small tables beside each one, coffee tables set between some of the larger groupings, and statuary, stub walls, and potted plants breaking the room up into a whole series of little almost mini-rooms.

As Gregor paused to catch his breath, because apparently sprinting out to meet us then climbing back up four flights of stairs might have been a bit more than he could take without doing so, I heard Larry's voice coming from the door furthest from the stairs on the left hand wall.

"My brother declared me heir. You all witnessed it. Return to your rooms." He didn't shout, but the way he pitched his voice, to carry as far as possible, to drown out arguments, did not make me sanguine about the situation. Leaving Gregor behind, I stepped to the doorway to see a big living room style entryway. A door to my right stood open, and despite the dim light in the room I saw the distinctive red jackets worn by Cadets and Heroes alike from inside the door.

I stepped into the room, appearing maybe an arm's length behind the guy nearest the door, and before anything else called out in the same tone Larry had used, "everything okay, Lancaster?" Every head in the room save Larry's turned to look at me, but I ignored them. Larry stood next to a big four-poster bed, left hand resting atop a still form with a still-settling sheet draped over it. He looked like absolute shit.

Not only was his hair plastered to his scalp after a day of marching followed by sprinting up four flights of stairs, tears flowed freely down his face. He'd inserted that steel pole back up his ass, and managed to keep his expression dignified, but... Tears. Not like, one manly tear, but a constant stream of them, enough to drip from his beardless chin. Without the slightest break in his façade, he looked me in the eye and said, "Commander Diaz."

At his words, the other eight guys in the room all tensed up, but not out of fear. Instead, they got that passive tension you could see in somebody ready for everything to go to a violent kind of shit in an instant; the kind that somebody with no experience with violence might mistake for actual calm. The biggest tell? Each of them subtly moved a hand closer to their hip, where each of them wore a sword at least as fancy as Dragonslayer had been before, y'know, I fucked it all the hell up killing a Dragon with it.

I raked my gaze across them, making sure to meet each of their eyes, keeping a smile on my face the whole time, then said, "Good evening, gentlemen. I'm Commander Tabitha Diaz of the Expeditionary Force sent from Phileo to investigate the lack of communication from Lancaster House." I paused, gave them not quite enough time for that to sink in, then continued with, "Heroes Lancaster, I presume?" The tension in each of them ratcheted up a notch.

At a guess, because they didn't know me from Eve, only that as Commander of an Expedition, I was probably a Hero, one unknown to them, with an entire Expedition at my back. Given that they all had their focus on me, but glanced back and forth to the others anyway? I figured I wouldn't wind up fighting eight Heroes at once, but fighting eight Heroes who each had to worry about one of the others shanking them. In return, I just smiled lazily at them.

I'd killed more Heroes than this in under a second at both Newark and Camden Yards, and if I didn't really want to make a mess on Larry's floor, I absolutely fuckin' would if I had to. Might wind up needing another round of deep Mana massage from Loki, but fuck it, Larry was one of my Cadets, and I wasn't about to let these fuckers fuck with him. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Should they stand against you, consider it my order to you to kill them all, my Champion.

Then one of them, who I immediately singled out as the most perceptive and thus most dangerous of the bunch, stood just a little straighter, extending his arms to the sides, palms toward me. He nodded toward me.

"Commander." He glanced to the others, who had each looked at him when he spoke.

"Gentlemen, let's leave cousin Laurence to grieve in private." They all paused half a moment, then, one at a time, nodded and headed for the door. I made a note of the order they left, although to be honest? I'd have to recognize them by their swords and other unique accessories, because they all had that same 'stamped out of a mold' blond-haired, blue-eyed, 'generically handsome' Lancaster look to them.

When the one who'd spoken started for the door, he looked at me and said, "may I show you around Lancaster House, Commander?" Larry's hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out to me, but all he said was, "stay, Commander." A knowing look drifted across the smart asshole's face, as if he'd just figured something out, but he didn't say or do anything I could call him on. He just nodded to me and said, "later, perhaps," then left.

I stepped to the door and closed it, noting that most of the Chad Squad had left Lachlan's living room already. The moment the door clicked shut, Larry dropped to his knees beside the bed, burying his face into the blankets to muffle the sobs that shook his shoulders. I stepped over to him and laid one hand on his shoulder. He looked up to me, desolation in his eyes, his voice hoarse when he whispered, "I had nothing left. Nothing for a Heal, nothing for a Cure, not even enough to Stabilize him until you came."

Something I'd been thinking about, probably mostly subconsciously since the Battle of Newark, clicked into place. I looked down at him and said, "do you trust me?" He took a deep breath, shook his head, but said, "I do." I laid a hand atop Lachlan's still form and stepped all three of us to Metaphoric Space. Weird, but I'd never gotten to look around on this side before. Anywhere I tried in Phileo I saw nothing but fuzzy darkness.

Here, on the other hand, while the room only had a kind of ethereal witch light brightening the dimness, I could see the room we'd just been standing in. The bed looked sort of solid, and the walls almost entirely so, but the sheets and blankets? Just a kind of fuzzy mist. Of course, while I took all that in the moment we crossed over, none of that really mattered. My attention focused immediately on the two other figures in the room, both of whom ignored our arrival.

Nearer to us, just beyond the foot of the bed, Lachlan Lancaster stood, his body faintly glowing. I gotta say, even with the situation as dire as it was? Lachlan still grabbed my attention on nothing but pure, raw, animal magnetism. Not an inch of fat on him, and apparently his soul didn't feel the need for clothing, so I got a good look everywhere.

I do mean everywhere, and while I know I've shied away from telephone poles and whale cocks in the past, the man was well hung, like 'can't miss or ignore it' well hung. I tore my eyes away from him to look at the other figure in the room, an absolute brick shithouse of a woman wearing plate armor. Every inch of her exposed skin practically glowed, and a vague suggestion of glowing wings lit her from behind. She ignored us as she spoke to Lachlan.

"I say again, Lachlan Lancaster, as is your right as both a Priest of Odin and heir to House Lancaster, I am here to escort you to your eternal rest." Lachlan lit up a bit at that, quite literally. He turned to face us, took a step closer, focusing entirely on Larry, and said, "hey, buddy. Sorry I can't stay, but Valhalla's calling me home." The moment he said that, the Valkyrie behind him snorted, then backed away, doubling over with laughter.

Lachlan turned to look at her, taking a step back as she waved one hand around in front of her, palm out in the universal 'gimme a minute' sign. After a solid fifteen seconds of gut-busting guffaws, she straightened up, wiping a tear from her eye.

"You? Valhalla? Thank you for the comedy, but no," she shook her head, suddenly serious, "Valhalla is not your destination. You are unworthy of joining the einherjar. I am here to take you to Hel." She reached for Lachlan. I didn't even see Larry move, but suddenly he was just there, between them, pushing Lachlan back toward the bed, sword already swinging at her as he screamed, "get away from him, you bitch!" She didn't even flinch.

Just brought her left hand around in a backhand that shattered Dragonslayer's blade like cheap prop glass, then caught him across the face hard enough to throw him at me. I caught him, one hand under each armpit, holding him more or less upright.

"You dare?" She didn't rush; in fact she kept every move she made slow, unhurried, as she brushed steel fragments from her bracer, then reached for her sword. I lifted Larry to his feet, still holding him up, and leaned over to whisper in his ear, "can you keep her busy?" He looked down at the hilt of his sword, knuckles white where he gripped it with both hands, frustrated rage shaking his voice as he replied, "I haven't even a sword."

I leaned around him, my hands sliding along his arms until I lay one palm on the back of each of his hands. I whispered, "I got you, Larry." I pushed Mana through his hands, into the hilt, and something almost antithetical to a Mana Blade slid out where Dragonslayer's blade had been. Black so dark it soaked up the witch light around it, it silenced everything around it in fits and starts. The Valkyrie drew, her brows beetling as she watched the blade of pure darkness appear in Larry's hands.

The moment I pulled my hands away, he lunged into action. I realized something immediately. Every other time I'd seen him fight, something held Larry back. Fear of consequence should he 'accidentally' push too far. Fear of failure and looking like a fool. Fear of injury. Fear of death. He had none of that now, and for the first few moments it was all the Valkyrie could do to evade Larry's strikes.

She had to evade, too, because she'd parried the first swing, sliding to the side and deflecting it with her sword, only to have half of her sword melted away like cotton candy hit by a power washer. I grabbed a gaping Lachlan by the hand, and when he looked at me said, "sit," gently pushing him back onto the bed to sit next to his corpse.

"Close your eyes." Shrugging a little, he did, and I tried to ignore how his man parts stood to attention, like he thought I'd led him to the bed for some kind of sex thing. Moron. I needed more Mana than I had, more than I had pulled even when Healing the worst of the plague victims, more than I'd used to reattach Angel's arms. I turned to keep half an eye on the ongoing fight, where Larry and the Valkyrie both left droplets flying in their wake.

Hers silver droplets of steel glowing white hot where Larry'd tagged her with his blade, his red droplets of blood where she'd nicked him under one eye. Not letting either of them out of my sight, I lay one hand on Lachlan's shoulder, another on that of his corpse. I dropped my Blend. The thing I'd taken to be a shadow stretched out of the East wall of the room. I'd finally realized. It wasn't a shadow. I had no light source behind me when I dropped my Blend. It wasn't my shadow.

It was the very tip of a long, narrow appendage stretching back to where Mimic lay dreaming. I pulled Mana from it, and it filled me to overflowing in an instant. At that same instant the Valkyrie, dodging another of Larry's strikes, spun about and got a good look at me. For the barest sliver of an instant, she froze. Larry's upward stroke took her at the ear, cutting clean through helm, skull, and all, sending the top third of her head falling to the side.

He reversed his strike and chopped downward, carving her head from the mouth upward away, then spun his blade into another downward swing, this one a brutal downward chop that split her from neck to crotch.

"Revive." In an instant Lachlan's soul travelled up my arm, down the other, and slammed back into his body hard enough to bounce him like somebody who'd just been defibrillated. The Mana filling me never even flickered; I threw my Blend back up as Lancaster turned to me, wonder and despair warring in his eyes. I held out a hand to him, my other still on Lachlan's shoulder.

His right still holding Dragonslayer's hilt, carving a furrow into the floor instead of resting on it, he reached out and took my hand with his left. I stepped us both back to Lachlan's room in the Mortal plane, then let go of both of them. Lachlan started coughing, and without thinking about it I put my hand back on his shoulder and threw half my Mana into a Cure and the rest into a Heal.

While he dealt with the inevitable regurgitation event, I turned my attention fully to Larry, who'd dropped to one knee in front of me. I couldn't help it, the words leaked out of me before I could stop them.

"Whoa there, Larry. I'm already happily married." My underappreciated, inappropriate humor flowed over him, past him, through him without him responding one iota. He looked at the ground around my feet, lifted his sword horizontally to present it to me, even as smoke rose from the palm of his left hand where the blade seared into him from an inch away, and said, "Tabitha Diaz, Champion and High Priestess of Loki, now and forever my blade is yours."