Gregory was expecting something to happen after his talk with the magus, so he was surprised when weeks passed with no response from the Chainer family. Even the mild harassment inside the towns died down, nor were there any bane beast attacks during those weeks, making everything feel calm.
They passed a large group of armored men leaving Coldwood when they were arriving back to town. A few dozen men with an oxen-pulled caged wagon were just leaving the gates as Gregory’s unit came marching up. They all sneered at the unit, a few even spitting at his men’s feet.
Gregory watched them go impassively. He’d have to find out when they’d return, but from everything he’d heard, it would be at minimum a month or two before they came back with slaves in tow. There weren’t any roads that lead into the woods of the north; the few times elven traders came south, they never left a trail to or from their capital.
Seeing that group, he made plans to head out after a full day off to rest. If slavers were leaving Coldwood, a group might be leaving Icelake, too, and he wanted to verify if that was the case. It looked like the Chainers might push both out at the same time to force him to only catch one of them being unlawful.
~*~*~
Gregory sank into his foresight, determined to find out when the next group of slaves would be brought back into Coldwood and make plans to stop them. Resonance spun out with foresight to help him, but the future showed him something he hadn’t expected.
The gate sergeant saluted him, telling Gregory about the trio of eurtik who’d been branded by the magus. The oddity was that the sergeant wasn’t wearing a winter jacket. The sergeant went on to explain that their paperwork had been inspected before the magus was sent for.
Letting go of the vision, Gregory sat there in silence, considering what he’d just seen. “That means… the group we saw leave yesterday never comes back with eurtiks… Maybe I stopped them? If they don’t arrive with eurtiks, my resonance might not consider that as a future for my question.” Lips pursed, he nodded. “Focus on the future for that group, instead.”
Pulling his magic and resonance back into focus, Gregory looked at the future again. He was filled with horror at what was to come. He sat there, playing with different ways to handle what he saw, but the future only had one path, with the only thing changing being the number of wounded. Aether draining away, with his ring taking up the brunt of the work, Gregory let go of his magic.
“This is their answer…?” Gregory murmured as he breathed slowly and deeply. “The last couple of weeks were a build-up to this. It wasn’t that they were backing off… it’s that they were getting their minions ready.”
Lapsing into meditation, he paced the cavern. In a couple of days, his men would be injured to various degrees, and at least a few would die. He hadn’t found a single future where he could save them all. Hands clenched in anger, he kept pacing.
“Can you show me the outcomes of the fight I’ll be in?” Gregory asked the flame suddenly.
The flame wavered side to side.
“Not even with the foresight I’ve seen?”
This time, the flame spluttered as if it wanted to, but couldn’t.
“Not strong enough… I’m never strong enough…!” Gregory growled as he started to stomp around the cavern.
A dim voice touched him as he was getting angrier and angrier, “Sometimes, sacrifices must be made.”
Gregory jerked to a stop. He cast about frantically for a moment, but then sighed, collapsing to sit next to his flame. Staring into the cyan tongues of fire, he exhaled sadly. “I know you told me that, Elder, but I don’t like just accepting it.”
Lightshield’s voice didn’t come again— the flames just flickered in front of him. He was supposed to fight a flame copy of someone today to keep his training in routine, but he didn’t have it in him to do that, not with what he knew was coming.
Minutes ticked by as he sat there, feeling listless. His magic had made so many things easy, yet he’d finally run into a moment where he couldn’t save everyone.
“Dear one, even you could not save everyone before,” Darkness’ voice whispered into the cavern.
Closing his eyes, Gregory bowed his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. He knew what she meant, just as he knew Lightshield had been right. Ever since he could see and direct the future, he hadn’t felt as helpless as he did right now. He could just keep his men in town for a week or a little longer; that would screw up the timing of the laid trap, but the group would survive long enough for it not to matter. They could supplement their rations with wild game if needed.
“Hard paths make the best magi…” Gregory murmured. “This is just another hard path. Accepting that I’m not perfect, that I can’t save everyone around me… it just hurts because I know them. I consider them friends… which… which is why I was warned about becoming friends with them.” The moment crystallized for him suddenly.
If he’d been distant with them, the realization that some of his men would die wouldn’t cut him as deeply. But that isn’t who he was, so the future stabbed into his heart. His men wouldn’t be as fiercely loyal to him if he hadn’t been himself— they’d have stood behind him, but not as loyally as they did now.
“The act of being friendly, but distant enough to command them even into death,” Gregory murmured. “I understand more of your words now, Lighthand. You pulled back in your later journals… the continued deaths of your valued friends and men finally forced you to lean back to stop the bleeding of your heart. I might end up in the same place in the future… but until then, I can only be true to myself. Rafiq will support me until my wives can help soothe my soul.”
Accepting what he could and couldn’t do helped Gregory shake off the funk. Getting to his feet, he faced the fire. “Give me a copy of myself. No aether, just skill.”
A flame copy of himself came from the fire. It stood with naginata in hand, then bowed to him. Gregory summoned his weapon and bowed back. Not training would only slow his ability to help more people in the future. He would accept his pain when it came— that was life. In equal measure, he would revel in the joys where he could. The flame copy of him shot forward, weapon spinning to begin the fight.
~*~*~
Fourth bell chimed while Gregory was still fighting, but the moment he heard the hour, he and his copy stepped back. Bowing to each other, Gregory felt clearer— he watched his copy shoot off as different tongues of flame down the channels.
Stepping out of the room, he greeted the others. “Good morning to you all. Davis, after breakfast, we need to talk with the sergeants.”
Davis nodded grimly, as he’d seen the resolve in Gregory’s eyes. “Yes, sir. How bad will it be?”
“I can’t find a path to save them all. I can mitigate the number, but not to zero.”
“We all knew the risks, sir.”
“I know… Honor, duty, death.”
“Just so, sir.”
“We’ll talk while the men get the Peaceful Fist done,” Gregory said. “I want to leave on time. It’ll be days before the future I saw comes. We have time to be as prepared as we possibly can.”
“Telling those specific men doesn’t help?” Davis asked as they descended the stairs.
“No. It makes things worse. If they know, they hold back to preserve themselves, as anyone would. In doing so, their comrades fall, and then it eats at them.”
“Survivor’s guilt… where it’s reality instead of just emotional,” Davis murmured. “That would be bad.”
“We’ll discuss it more with the sergeants.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gregory didn’t go to speak with the staff. Instead, he took a seat, pulled out a Magi Square, and began to fill it out. Dot, Polka, and Barny knew something was wrong when he did, but they didn’t approach to ask. Rafiq sat next to him, working on his own Magi Square. The coming future was one of the moments he’d worried about. Losing men under him might break Gregory, and Rafiq considered how he might help.
~*~*~
The mood during the meal was subdued, as Gregory’s expression was obvious. When the sergeants were called and they were sent to do the Peaceful Fist, the men knew something was coming.
Gregory gathered them all the way up in his room, as that would stop any of his men from trying to listen in. The moment the door closed, he looked over the five sergeants, not focusing specifically on any one of them.
“Sir, is it the slaver group that left town?” Glasson asked, breaking the silence.
“It is,” Gregory said. “We’ll see them in two days at the midpoint of our trip at the campground. They’ll have been joined by an equal-sized group from Icelake.”
“They mean to ambush us?” Milton asked tightly.
“Forty-eight men, plus a physical enhancement mage,” Gregory said softly. “We’ll end up with many injuries, including some dead, but we will be the last ones standing. I can’t find a way to preserve the entire unit. I looked at many futures. Trying to warn the men who’ll die ends up with even more deaths.”
“Because everyone wants to live…” Donald said softly. “Even knowing we’ll face combat and death, none of us is truly ready for the end.”
“Exactly. Then, those men fall into a dark spiral for having survived.”
“What do we tell them, sir?” Townson asked.
“That we will be beset by greater numbers, but survive while killing them all. They’ll honor their oaths, fulfilling their duties.”
“Even unto death,” Bunson said softly. “They’ll be surprised, sir. I think they can accept it, though. We’ve gone a half-year in the most dangerous posting in the empire without losing a single man. What’s the lowest cost we escape with?”
“Two dead, a few seriously wounded in need of extensive bedrest and care, and then moderate injuries across the board. This will stop us from patrolling for weeks while we get back enough strength to patrol as we should.”
“What of the Chainers, sir?” Glasson asked. “Can we go after them?”
“That’ll depend on how the fight ends. In some futures, it gives me what I need, but in others… no. Taking the first path means at least one more of our men die. Is it worth that, Sergeant?”
“It is, sir,” Davis said before anyone could start to speak. “Cutting the head off the snake is worth the cost, even if it’s my life. All of us would gladly pay that if it means the rest of the unit would no longer be under attack.”
Gregory met Davis’ eyes, then bowed his head. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I was averse to letting another man die, but Yuki would tell me the same thing. Sorrow and loss are unavoidable, and will only go up unless the people behind it are dealt with. The moment we engage the ambushers in combat, things are set. That will not be the last battle during this year.”
“We’ll fight them even wounded, sir,” Bunson grunted.
The others all chimed in, agreeing with what Davis had said. As they did, Gregory’s heart clenched, knowing who would pay for that decision. It wasn’t him or Davis; it was one of his sergeants.
“First, we deal with these thugs, and then we move after those who put them against us,” Gregory said softly. “The next month or two will be filled with blood and pain. We’ll face death, sorrow, and loss. In the end, we’ll remain unbowed as we break the men who pushed us to act in this manner.” Gregory looked up, meeting his sergeants’ faces with grim acceptance etched on his face.
“Honor! Duty! Death!” Davis barked the words, then saluted. The five sergeants joined him, holding the salute as they faced Gregory.
Gregory saluted them back, taking the weight of command on his shoulders. “For the empire.”
“For the empire!” they roared back at him.
The men in the yard looked up at the barracks, as the shout had been faint but audible. As one, they stopped the Peaceful Fist, came to attention, and saluted the building. Voices rose in unison, as they shouted those same three words back.
Gregory heard his men in the yard and his heart clenched. “Gather your squads. We march on the hour.”
