Chương 10: Conscription

The two men—one an imperially sanctioned monster hunter and the other a herdsman half his age—stared at each other in silence. Mattock's torch still burned in his hand, which only intensified the dark shadows upon his angry glare. Jordan was overcome by the bizarre urge to knock the torch out of the boy's hand. You fool! Don't you realize you're dealing with a Pyromancer? Before he could act on it, however, said Pyromancer deigned to speak first." Porter, eh?"

Heron said, referring of course to Mattock's spellcaster class, visible to anyone within the system.

"Pray tell, young man, what spells have you mastered so far?" All three of Mattock's family members kept their heads slightly bowed, as if afraid to make eye contact. The boy himself stared straight ahead at the interviewer, nary a change to his defiant demeanor. Nor did he answer the question. Which, to be fair, was only in keeping with his nature. Blatant disrespect. Perhaps even an implied threat.

The Imperial Ranger appeared utterly unfazed, however, even smiling a little as he continued the one-sided conversation.

"A man of few words. I don't hate it. In fact, I daresay that sort of attitude will serve you well where you're going next." That, evidently, was too much for the family to ignore—to hope it might all pass without incident. Mallet the patriarch looked up sharply, though he maintained a mild and deferential tone as he spoke.

"Warrior, if I may… what is it you think is in my son's future?"

"I don't think it." Heron reached into his chestpiece to pull out a folded piece of paper.

"I decree it on behalf of His Radiant Vigor Emperor Kardy Goldcrest, acting in service of the Province of Featherift. I don't know if you've heard, but a general levy is currently in place while the Imperial Army deals with the Garuda problem. Recruitment wasn't on my mind before I arrived here tonight, but now that I've seen"—he nodded toward Mattock, as if to say'this' —"I've no reason to walk away empty-handed. Now if you'll just sign—"" No!" Jordan jumped as a screech rang through the hut.

It had issued from Sarina, she of the sunny disposition and even sunnier smile. Neither feature was anywhere to be seen as she rushed to her son's side, her face contorted in tearful agony. Mattock, never breaking eye contact with Heron, used his free hand to push his mother away. Mallet had gone pale in the face, while Sickle broke out in silent shaking sobs. And even as Sarina struggled to get a hold of her son, she cried to the stranger in the house,"Please! Not Mattock too! I beg of you, please spare him!"

In a flash, Jordan understood everything. Sarina's distress. Sickle's tears. Mallet's quiet suffering. And Mattock's rage. For the boy looked just about ready to tackle the Imperial Ranger, and he very well might have if not for his family.

"Control yourself, Madam!" Heron admonished Sarina, for all the world as if he was the aggrieved party.

"To serve the Emperor, and in so doing protect one's homeland from saboteurs and monstrosities, is a great honor for any young man, let alone one of such modest station. I'll overlook your impudence this time, Madam, on account of the stress of the earlier Roc attack, but if you—""Yeah, you know what, I think it's time you stopped talking and listened instead." All eyes turned onto Jordan at once. Even Sarina was momentarily stunned into silence. Which was to say nothing of Jordan's own shock!

He had no idea what he'd meant to do until it had already happened. And now, he was committed to the bitter end. As for Heron, his subtle sneer had returned. He gave a slight bow in response to Jordan's outburst, though it appeared more mocking than not.

"Educate me, Westerner." If Jordan weren't mistaken, there was a slight emphasis on the last word.

"What have I misheard? Or is there some revelatory insight you've been dying to share?" Well, perhaps'dying' was too strong a word, but… It wasn't Jordan's place to interfere with the family's affair. That went double when it involved the death of their eldest son. The Jordan of even two days ago might have bitten his lips and let it all play out, simmering in impotent rage all the while.

That certainly would've been the play if this were Vesselia the computer game, where filling and emptying a cup superseded all other concerns. And yet… simply how? How could he stand here and let this happen to the Mallet family? To the people who'd given him so much for so little in return. What would his mother say… or even his chemistry professor father for that matter? And so, he charged on ahead, for better or for worse.

"Listen, man," he spoke in the only diction he knew, "this conscription thing… it already happened to this family, yeah? You're not the first to come around demanding they give up their son, and the last time, it… it ended badly." Far too late to back out now. He now needed a way to tie the whole argument together. An inspiration came from some patchwork Earthling knowledge.

"Don't you guys, I dunno, have some policy against drafting from the same family when one son has already died in service? I think I saw something like that in Saving Private— never mind. The point is, this family has already suffered enough. Couldn't you… be a bro and just walk away? You said yourself you didn't come here to fill a quota or anything, so… You did your thing, killed a Roc, then went home. What's so wrong with that?" This story originates from Royal Road.

Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Maybe not the most eloquent delivery, but the argument sounded solid enough to Jordan's ears. He was justifiably dismayed, then, to see Heron burst out in laughter.

"I've heard you Westerners to be queer in your ways," the Ranger exclaimed in between hearty guffaws, "yet I still find myself amazed by the sheer extent. You expect me to lie to His Radiant Vigor the Emperor, and for what? To deny this Mattock of Copper Hill the same glory his brother gave his life for? Don't make me laugh!" Well, too late on that count, apparently. Jordan's heart sank even as his temper burned ever hotter.

Forget [Standing and Delivering]; he needed a way to get through to this thick-headed— Strength DC 10: success Zhurong:"Pah! These military types are all the same. They can't be reasoned with. And appeals to their better nature will only fall on deaf ears. For the only gods they worship are power and authority." Good to know that Zhurong was a bit more of a bro than they'd initially let on. But what use was it to Jordan?

Not like Zhurong could descend and speak on his behalf—really put the fear of god into this callous soldier. And yet… perhaps that was exactly what needed to happen. You've asked Imperial Ranger Heron to exempt Mattock from mandatory military service on compassionate grounds. Heron has flatly refused. Will you… 1) Get down on your knees and beg. Really go all out. He probably won't take pity on you, but he just might be disgusted enough to change his mind. 2) [Strength DC 20 (Hard)] You're a Lv.

30 Gatekeeper, aren't you? Why are you afraid of a Lv. 15 Pyromancer? If the gods won't help, then put the fear of Jordan Yu in Heron's insolent ass! [Favorable: STR modifier (+2). Zhurong is being a bro about this (+2).] [Adverse: You're in your underwear (Disadvantage). Dude looks like he works out (-2).] 3) [Dexterity DC 13 (Medium)] The Ranger won't listen to reason, but what if he's willing to negotiate?

If you're really committed to helping this family, then maybe it's time to put your money where your mouth is. [Favorable: DEX modifier (+2).] [Adverse: I repeat: you're in your underwear (Disadvantage). Dude seems fairly switched on (-2).] Oof. With (1) being out of the question, Jordan had to choose between (2) and (3). Both ability checks, and neither particularly favorable, largely due to the [Disadvantage]. Why oh why did he jump out of bed in his underwear?

Dexterity DC 12: success Nezha:"You know, human, I still think you're hopeless, but at least you're starting to amuse me a little. Take the gamble. I'm willing to lend you reckless bravado if not quite good fortune." With that ringing(?) endorsement from the God of Dexterity, the conditions shifted somewhat. [Favorable: DEX modifier (+2). Nezha is being a bro about this, kind of (+2).] Still more likely to fail than not, but it was a much better gamble than option (2).

With a tiny apology to Zhurong, and plenty of'you better come through for me' to Nezha, Jordan locked in his choice. 3) Negotiate for exemption on Mattock's behalf. Dexterity DC 13 Rolls (Disadvantage): 7, 13 Final: 9 Result: failure So close yet so far! Immediately, Jordan was overcome by a familiar sinking feeling. Familiar not only from D&D, but also from the many, many IRL examples he could draw from. But he'd made his gamble, and the consequences must play out, no matter how painful they might be.

"What if I join your stupid army instead?" The words had been blurted with an over-it-already petulance. They now hung in the air like a bad joke.

"Ah-Jo," Mallet was the first to intercede, voice as pained as his expression, "please, don't trouble yourself with our—" Heron shushed the old man with a hand in his face. He then turned a widening sneer back onto Jordan.

"Careful, Westerner." The man narrowed his eyes slightly.

"If this is your attempt at humor, then I shall overlook it on account of… cultural differences. May you educate yourself on proper Stormvaster decorum and correct your conduct accordingly. But if that indeed was a serious suggestion, then it falls to me to ask: what could you possibly have to offer the Imperial Army?" More job interview vibes. Except the interviewer had the ability to burn the candidate down to cinders, if not by words, then certainly by magic. Jordan wilted under the pressure.

That familiar sinking feeling.

"I—I'm a Lv. 30 Gatekeeper." Same energy as'I graduated with honors from blah blah blah'.

"That's… that's got to count for something, right? How many people in your army have achieved even Lv. 21, let alone 30?"

"Neither your level nor your class means anything to me, Westerner, until you prove to me what you can do. So, I ask you the same thing I asked Mattock of Copper Hill. What spells have you mastered?" Welp. That was the death knell to Jordan's piss-poor attempt at negotiation. Failed the check, failed to help the family, and now, he had to admit to his most compromising secret in front of a bunch of Vesselia spellcasters.

"I—" That was when the flaps of the entrance burst open. In rushed a gust of wind, whipping against clothes, shaking furniture, and clattering loose objects. Mattock's torchlight finally went out. But not the fire in the furnace, which Jordan now realized had been magical in origin. And in walked a second spellcaster in Imperial gear, with the Heavenly Cauldron hovering in the air before him.