Chương 38: 37 – A Petty Revenge

The moment the soldiers left, I leapt to my feet and dashed over to kneel beside Dobretin.

"Oppa!? Are you okay?" I asked. I was only a few moments faster than the healer, who was already holding up her hands, green magic poised at the edge of her fingers.

"Thank you. I'm alright, I'm alright," he said, waving his hand and calming half the people in the bar. Almost everyone with the ability to do so had stood up at some point, either to rush to Dobretin's side or possibly to attack the general if a fight broke out. There was a rage there that I'd never seen on the faces of many of these people. It scared me just a little, but as I caught Reid's eyes, I found an expression that mirrored my own.

"Maulander…" I hissed.

"What gave him the right?" someone said.

"Four-fifths?"

"The mayor's right! We'll starve!"

"We can't give away four-fifths of the harvest!"

"Alright there, Bret?"

"At least they're clearing Mitoras."

"He never said he would!"

"Quiet!" Dobretin barked before the Bar could grow far too loud. Ake's healing was already working wonders on his voice.

"Damn bastard," he muttered to himself as he sat back up, pulling himself out of the remains of the shattered chair. He reached down to the floor and picked up a bloody tooth.

"I've only got so many of those left." I felt my rage grow even darker.

"We're not really going to give away four fifths of our entire harvest, are we?" I asked.

"Don't see as we have much choice," he said with a chuckle before turning to the healer.

"He always like that?" Ake frowned.

"Sometimes, yes. Sometimes much worse. He is a competent general. That's the best I'll say of him."

"Lovely," Dobretin said.

"Still, it was about the best I could've hoped for." I scoffed.

"That was the best!? Are you sure Diplomacy is all it's cracked up to be?" He put a hand on my shoulder.

"Without it, he'd have taken every grain we have. Mark my words. Diplomacy is a fantastic skill. Sometimes, though, all it can tell you is how to lose with the most dignity you can keep. Remind me to teach you someday. It'll be worth having in your pocket. Especially for you." I eyed him suspiciously, not understanding what he meant.

"So… what do we do now?" I asked.

"We do as the General commands," he said, before lifting his voice to speak to the entire room.

"Everyone. It is as the general says. We may have to tighten our belts, but we have the Great Ophiscian. Even if the man is a horse's ass, he is seeking to feed our soldiers and close the rift break. We will support him as best we can. Four in five parts of your harvests, your ingots, your metal. Give him some of your hope, as well, that such a man is what we need between ourselves and the Rift." The people didn't like that, but they knew Dobretin. Some of them stood and began to leave the bar. Slowly.

Treacherously slowly, as if awaiting for him to drop the other shoe. His gaze remained firm.

"Go now. Gather your supplies. We don't have long." Dobretin said. They went, a horde of angry people spilling out the door, to trade their hard earned livelihoods for a slightly better chance at safety. It fucking burned. The attitude of the remaining Mitoras refugees was significantly more upbeat. They didn't know Dobretin as we did, and weren't quite so outraged at his assault. Angry as they were about seeing one of the people who'd taken them in hurt and humiliated, their priorities were on returning home.

Dobretin thanked healer Ake and turned to go back to the long line of patients. I wasn't done though. This felt… so wrong. I approached him again.

"So… so we're just going to roll over?" I asked. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Somehow, I felt disappointed. He was right. I knew he was, and not providing food that the army needed would be like shooting ourselves in the foot. Still. I wanted to spite the general. Find a way to get him personally fired without impacting the army's effectiveness? Not likely.

A general's talent was typically upgraded by the time they reached the rank, and they usually took upgrades that were geared towards managing their men. Losing that would be a devastating loss, especially during wartime. Perhaps Hadra could convince the Duchess after she left that Maulander was abusing his power? Probably not. Worse, the Duchess probably wouldn't care. This wasn't a modern world, and nobles had no external pressure to be upstanding citizens as rich people had in April's world.

Even social media had only barely affected them. What would absolute power look like in a world like this? It was more likely that the Duchess didn't even see us as people than it was that she would care. Dobretin sighed.

"What, do you want me to sabotage the army? Get on that general's black list? It's a bad situation all around, but times are tight when war is on. Things will get worse before they get better. Eschal has been our ally since… gods, before I was born. I don't know why they decided to turn on us now. Best we give away what we have now, so that when the next army comes through, we can truthfully say we've been scraped clean. More believable. More sympathetic." I grimaced.

Where was this beaten dog mentality coming from? The last war was just before the rift appeared, and it had been a long and bloody one. The rift had solidified the nations' need to cooperate, and they'd done so, eventually splitting the lands that had once been Estermont into slightly unequal portions. Estermont had been a Duchy of Tacuria, and as such, much of the blame fell on us. The blame and the largest piece of the responsibility, as it were.

Our portion of the rift defence was the largest, comprising three separate armies. It had actually been a matter of pride during my childhood. We'd lost the Duchy, but our armies were more than enough to keep the country safe. Nobody really liked to talk about Estermont. I hadn't even known its name until Mom told me recently. Had the war before the rift been so bad that people would prefer the rift to a return to it, though?

All this time, I'd been thinking that life after the rift was gone might be wonderful, but perhaps that had been naive.

"We have to do something, though, don't we? We can't just let him take everything we've grown!" I hissed.

"Right. You wouldn't know… A word of advice, Mera," he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

"We must give up four parts in five of our harvest." He placed particular emphasis on the word.

"If what's been set aside in reserve isn't part of the harvest, then it won't trip lie detection skills, will it?" he grinned.

"That goes for you, too, Reid. They'll want your leather, your hides, and probably the skin off your back. If what you've set aside isn't a part of your trade goods this year, then it won't count. There's the harvest, and there are the essentials. No one ever needs to know."

"Do… other people need to know that trick?" I asked.

"Most already do. I'd hoped you'd never have to live in a time where you'd need it. Your father certainly knows. And your father might be too dense to try it." Dobretin said to Reid fondly. Reid grinned.

"I'll set him straight. Four-fifths of our 'harvest,' as it were."

"Good lad," the mayor replied.

"Best you both be off now as well. Your parents will need you tonight." We nodded. We were about to follow the rest of the patrons out the door when it suddenly opened.

"Mom?" I asked, surprised.

"Is he gone?" she asked, immediately, eyes narrowed on me.

"Uhm. He, who?"

"Maulander?" she asked.

"Yes. Back to his camp. And good riddance to him, I say. It seems he's to take four parts in five of our entire harvest!"

"Four in five?" She turned to Dobretin, who approached calmly.

"I see you haven't lost your touch."

"I do what I can," he said humbly.

"Was about to send these two home. What brings you back?" Mom hesitated, glancing between me and the window.

"I… was worried the general might recognize Mera," she said softly.

"I wanted to pull her out before she… well. Did what she does." I blinked.

"What's that supposed to mean!? Wait. Why would the General of the Central War Camp recognize me?" I asked.

"You look like me. The braids do hide the similarities, though," she said.

"So you know the General?"

"Of course not. It would just be for the best if he didn't see me, or you, again," she replied. I sighed, eyeing Mom suspiciously.

"Mom, one of these days you're going to have to tell me who you really were before the rift. You can't keep it from me forever," I said. She glanced between Reid, Dobretin, and I.

"Perhaps one day. Not today, though. For now, just… avoid that man as much as you can, alright?" My eye twitched. I'd had enough.

"Actually, I was going to offer to go tell him a story," I said, bringing out my most defiant maliciousness.

"Mera…"

"I'll let my hair down, too. Sing a little! Maybe then he'll finally tell me what my Mom clearly won't!" I hissed.

"Mera, enough of this!"

"No! It's not enough! Why does Maulander know you!? Why do you know…!" I trailed off, glancing around before lowering my voice to an angry whisper that only Reid, Mom, and Dobretin could hear.

"Why do you know Neogon's signet? I have a right to know!"

"Fine! Fine… I'll tell you tonight. Not here, though, okay?" She was… practically pleading. Dobretin and Reid seemed equally interested.

"You promise?" I asked. She scowled.

"I promise, now drop it."

"Wonderful!" I said brightly. She hissed as I beamed at her.

"You're horrible, little Onion."

"I know!" I shouted.

"Now let's talk about how we're going to maliciously comply with the Gen…" I trailed off. A thought occurred suddenly.

"You know, does that promise extend to me?" Dobretin asked.

"I'd like to know how you know the General's signature as well." I put my hands over my ears, blocking out the conversation.

"You can fuck right off, Mayor. This is between me and my daughter. Unlike you, she actually would go offer to tell stories and get herself killed!"

"Mera?" Reid asked, silent and steady as always. I held up a finger. We couldn't actually short the general. That food was for soldiers who would need it in the coming winter. However… Malicious compliance…

"Reid, what did we do with the sacks of troll skins Dad's talent made? The army would certainly want all that raw material, wouldn't they?" His eyes widened. Then he snickered. Dobretin did too, laughing as he slapped a nearby table.