High War - Chapter 23.2

“Who is this?” A human man with a heavy composite shortbow over one arm points at Zarah. She sits in a high-backed chair behind a curved oak desk covered in paperwork, her feet crossed on the desk. Standing beside the desk, the man glances around to the other three people in the stone-walled room. “Where did she come from?”

A Small Folk man with a spiral beard spike sits in a chair near the room's door. He shrugs, one hand twisting his goatee. The second is a tall human woman with bright red hair and a claymore on her back. She leans against the wall and eyes Zarah, one thin eyebrow raised.

The third is Jorg. The orc stands in front of the desk, hands clasped behind his back, chin to his chest. He stares at the floor, his eyes revealing nothing.

Setting a hand on the back of the chair, the human man with the bow stares down at Zarah. “That is the Commander's chair. Remove yourself from it.”

She grins up at him. “And who are you, the Commander? Wanna fight about it?”

Jorg sucks in his breath and gulps. “Captain-Commander Brandon Avery died fighting those things.” His voice is thin and pleading. “I hope you will not sit in his chair, Miss.” The tall human woman and the Small Folk behind Jorg stare at him.

Zarah smirks at him. “Is that what you hope, Mister?”

The man with the bow grunts. “Captain Jorg speaks for us all.” He bends down and places his other hand on the desk, staring Zarah in the eye. “We appreciate your help in the sortie, but that does not place you in a superior position to us. We are the current captains of Foe Hall. Remove yourself before I have you arrested.”

The Drunk steps into the room and coughs. “Lass, I retrieved the three lads.” Zarah nods at him.

The man with the bow looks up. “And who is this? Why is everyone wandering into the Commander's office?”

After a quick salute to the captains, the Drunk continues. “Klax says he'll be in the cave they're using as a medic tent. The other two wish ya well, and are off ta check on their families.”

“Uncle?” The Small Folk blinks up at the Drunk. “Is that you, uncle?”

The Drunk looks down, tilts his head to the side and smiles. “My boy! You've grown quite a lot since I last saw ya!”

“You haven't aged a day, uncle!” The Small Folk stands in his chair, and he and the Drunk hug.

The bow-carrying captain throws up his hands. “Captain Hod! So you can tell us who these people are!”

The Small Folk pulls away from the Drunk and turns to the bow-carrying captain. “Captain Jenkins, I don't know the lady, but this is the Drunk. He raised me as a child, though I haven't seen him since I joined the Army.” He grins back at the Drunk. “What have you been doing all these years, uncle?”

“Wandering as usual.” The Drunk shrugs, then runs a hand through his shaggy hair with a sheepish smile. “I have a new boy, been training him. I'll introduce ya to him sometime.”

The captain with the glowing claymore steps forward. “I think I know who the woman is.” She glances at Jorg, who is frozen still. “She's Captain Jorg's wife.”

Jorg winces, and the female captain nods. The Small Folk captain gapes at Jorg, and the captain with the bow raises an eyebrow at him.

Uncrossing and crossing her legs, Zarah stares at Jorg. “The pretty one knows, huh? But there's no need to keep it a secret anymore. Goldenburg was destroyed.” Jorg's gaze jerks up to her, and she nods. “Father can't complain with things as they are. If you want to, we can go public. We may need to soon anyway.”

He blinks, his gaze focused on her. “Are we - are you pregnant, babe?”

She shrugs and folds her arms. “I don't know. I have some tests, but I haven't used any yet. If I am,” she stops to look around the room. “I mean, no matter what happens, I'll be sticking with you now. Even with an army at the gate, there's no place I'd rather be. So introduce me to your friends, dear.”

Jorg nods. He turns to face the other captains. “Everyone, this is my wife, Zarah.” He takes a deep breath and smiles at them all.

“Light knows, I was starting to think you preferred men.” The female captain glances from Jorg to Zarah. “He's been disgustingly loyal to you.”

Zarah laughs. “You and I could be friends. Or we'd kill each other.”

The other woman nods. “Let's not try.”

“Enough!” Captain Jenkins smacks his hand down on the desk. “Only soldiers are allowed in the Commander's office. Not family members. Captain Jorg, Captain Hod, remove them!”

Jorg and the Small Folk captain give the man with the bow a long stare. Zarah leans back in the high-backed chair and places her hands behind her head. The Drunk grins, takes a swig from his hip flask, and rests against the door frame.

The captain with the claymore tsks. “I think we need their help. With the Rift Circle not working, we have no idea what's going on outside. These people may have valuable intelligence. And we all saw them fight. We've only wounded those big things with a few lucky hits.”

“Really?” Zarah looks around the room, but no one disputes the claymore-carrying captain. “Huh, you people need me more than I thought. Not one of you can hurt them?”

“There's some trick to it, lass.” The Drunk nods, frowning. “I can only hurt them when I put everything I have into the blow.”

The Small Folk looks up at him. “Even you, uncle?”

Captain Jenkins grunts. “The King's Army will not stoop so low as to bring adventurers to the battlefield, even powerful adventurers. This is our fort and our fight.”

“Lad, don't say that.” The Drunk puts his hip flask away and steps forward. “That's a fool's decision.”

The captain glares at him. “Oh? Pray tell me why.”

“Aye, I'll tell ya.” He grunts and tilts his head to the floor. “I was part of the adventurer group that cleared this fort of the demons infesting it. Most of my fellows died for this fort, good men and women. And there were many other groups before ours who weren't successful. Ya might say we were fed to the demons, an finally they choked on their food.”

He looks around the room, at the walls and ceiling, before turning his attention back to the bow-carrying captain. “And what did the army do? Paid the fee for services rendered and moved in without even a remembrance to the dead.” He snorts, his fist clenching. “So before you tell me that adventurers can't fight to save this fort, tell me the names of the adventures who paid for it with their blood.”

Frowning, Captain Jenkins raises an eyebrow. “You must be drunk. The Valiant Five are from almost a hundred years ago. No one in this whole fort was alive back then.”

“You'd be surprised, lad.” The Drunk smiles and bows his head. “Valian of the Rose Knights. The sorceress Airena. Jacob and Helena Minnow. Sollan White. And me.”

The captain blinks. “Very few members of the public know there were six members of that expedition.” After a moment, Captain Jenkins nods. “Very well. You may join the fighting. I will see that you are assigned a temporary rank and soldiers under your command.”

He turns on Zarah. “But not you! Why are you are still sitting in the Commander's chair? Remove yourself from this office!”

Zarah looks up at him with big pouting eyes. “I'm sitting in the comfortable chair because I thought we were going to have a long, boring meeting where I tell you everything you don't know. Aren't you curious about the things you've been fighting?”

She looks down at her fingernails and sighs. “I defeated two by myself. I guess that sort of makes me the expert here.” She grins up at the captain. “Do you know what comes out when you do? It's not candy.”

As the captain is fuming and trying to respond, a young woman runs into the room. “Captain Artorius, a report!” The woman with the claymore turns to her, and the young woman salutes. “A man in a green cloak appeared on the wall. He says he wants to talk to the Commander, or he'll have that enemy army start attacking again.”

Captain Jenkins looks up. “The enemy wants to talk?” He scowls, then nods. “Captains, to the wall, in armor.” He glances to the Drunk. “You are invited as well.” And he glares at Zarah. “You are not. We will listen to what you know after this, but until then you will stay inside the fort!”

He stands up straight, walks across the room, and exits without looking back. The Small Folk and the woman with the claymore follow him. After a moment, the Drunk harrumphs and wanders out.

Jorg sighs. “Babe, I know you won't, but please. Maybe do as Captain Jenkins asks.” He grins at her. “Or at least you shouldn't antagonize people like that.”

Zarah shrugs. “It's a gift and a curse.” Scarfenstein slips out from under her cloak, and she pets the red cloth. Then she looks up at Jorg. “Need any help getting into your armor?”