The first week of patrol was a constant repeat of their first day out— each campsite was in deplorable condition. They got each camp set up correctly and moved on with it, but Gregory’s notes for the magus were filled with things that shouldn’t have happened with the last unit.
Reaching Icelake in the early evening on their fifth night out, everyone felt ready for a hot bath. The grime had accumulated over five days, even with everyone doing their best to stay clean. The gate sergeant watched them coming with a smirk.
“Magi, nice to see you and your men,” the Icelake sergeant said with a hint of condescension. “They’ll get used to it.”
Gregory held up his hand, stopping his unit from proceeding. Staring down at the man, Gregory gave him a cold smile. “Sergeant, your name?”
“Sergeant Quintas, sir,” the sergeant said, suddenly feeling uneasy.
“Good to know. Things have been lax, and I understand why. We are far from the empire proper. However, my men are mine. To insult them is to insult me and my clan. Is this understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Quintas answered quickly, saluting as he did.
“Good. I was going to ask for directions to the barracks, but instead, you’ll have one of your men lead us. I’m sure there will be no problems with that, right?”
“No, sir. Mitchell, get your furry ass out here!”
One of the guards came from the gatehouse, quickly coming to attention upon seeing the others. “Sir?” The man was broad with a mop of unruly brown hair covering his head.
“Escort the magi and his men to their barracks,” Quintas said tightly.
“Yes, sir,” Mitchell saluted. “Magi, if you’re ready?”
“Lead us,” Gregory said, his eyes still focused on Quintas. “Good day, Sergeant.”
Quintas swallowed at the pressure that touched him— the power was beyond what any other adept had ever shown him. When the unit went past, he wiped his head, then hurried inside. He needed to make sure his records were in order, just in case the magi reported him to the magus or commander.
Gregory let Legacy follow Mitchell. As they went, Gregory saw the edges of furred ears mixed into the man’s unruly hair. That explains the ‘furry ass’ comment from Quintas. Mitchell has eurtik blood, Gregory thought.
“Tell me, Mitchell, where would my men be safe to relax in town?”
Mitchell’s steps slowed. He glanced back at the unit, seeing the sergeants and guards with eurtik heritages. “Not many places in town for some of them, sir. The Groomed Mane would welcome any of them for a drink. The games there are normally free of cheats, too.”
“They accept people who are other than human?” Gregory asked.
“Yes, sir. They take all of us with eurtik blood, but everyone is welcome.” The last four words were quickly tacked on.
“What places should my men avoid?”
“The Choker,” Mitchell said the name with a curl to his lip. “Damned place is a pit. They’ll come out with more than they went in with. The women there aren’t… kept well, sir.”
Gregory nodded slowly. “I see. This is known by those in charge?”
“Everyone knows, sir, but… it’s not looked at.”
“Understood. Is there a place with clean women that aren’t slaves?”
“Uhh… umm…” Mitchell had to think about it for a few moments. “Locked Belt. Most of the women there are servants instead of slaves, and the local healer checks them twice a year. If slaves are okay, Silver Collar is the best in town. It’s owned by the same family that runs the Golden Collar in Coldwood.”
Gregory was going to ask more, but as they crossed a street, a commotion was taking place a bit farther to the west, drawing his attention.
“Slave auction, sir,” Mitchell said, seeing Gregory look that way.
Gregory’s lips thinned. “Yes, of course. How often do they take place?”
“Every quarter, sir. This one was put off because of the rain a few days back.”
Gregory grunted, recalling the storm his unit had marched through. “I remember.”
Mitchell winced. “Sorry, sir. That put off the auction, as no one attends if it’s pouring like that. It got bumped back to today, instead, and it should be winding down now. They’re likely down to the choicest slaves at this point.”
“‘Choicest’?” Gregory asked, managing to keep his tone neutral.
“The best-looking ones, sir… the ones who’ll end up in places like the Silver Collar. This auction was bigger than normal, as the magi before you raided a village with his unit a month back. It cost him two men, but they brought in a dozen slaves.”
Gregory’s jaw set. He’d disliked Grabil before, but to know that the magi willingly rode off to raid a village for slaves instead of sticking to his patrol twisted that into contempt. “I see…”
Mitchell shivered, feeling a chill. He wasn’t sure what to think of the magi he was leading. Mitchell was pretty sure the man didn’t like slavery, but he was a magi, so that couldn’t be right.
The barracks looked identical to the set in Coldwood. Mitchell got the stables open for the wagon and animals, helping the camp boys get things in place. Gregory had sent his men in to get out of their armor; he was only wearing the chest and armguards for his armor.
When Mitchell came back out, saying goodbye to the boys, he froze when he found Gregory at the door. “Uh… sir?”
“Thank you, Mitchell. Your advice was appreciated. I had one more question for you: how many slavers work out of Icelake?”
“Three sets, sir. They stick to the north of the lake, maybe a day or two west toward Coldwood, but no more than that. The slavers from Coldwood only come a day or two this way in return.”
“Does your sergeant check their paperwork?”
“Paperwork, sir?”
Gregory nodded. “That’ll do. Thank you. No doubt Quintas will ask you what we discussed. Leave this last conversation off your answer to him. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Mitchell saluted.
“If you see my men at the Groomed Mane, it would be helpful if you could make sure they were treated well.”
“The owner there is a retired guard, sir. He won’t treat them wrong.”
“Good. Have a good evening, Private.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Gregory headed inside— he had to make choices on what to do. If he started making waves, this year would become exponentially harder. The question was if he could live with not doing anything.
“Sir, Rafiq took the empty lieutenant’s room for the second unit,” Davis said, meeting Gregory at the top of the fourth floor. “We figured that would be fine. Basal and Hanz took separate rooms, too.”
“That’s fine. Let them live a little,” Gregory chuckled. “I’m sure Barny and the sisters took separate rooms this time, too. It’s not like we won’t clean up after ourselves.”
“About that, sir? The caretaker was leaving when I got in. Both barracks have a staff to clean up after we leave. After a quick conversation, he politely wondered how we’d leave the place. It was clear that the camps weren’t the only thing left in less-than-acceptable quality from Grabil’s unit.”
“The more I hear about him, the less I like him and his unit, Davis.”
“I’d be in agreement, sir.”
Gregory exhaled slowly. “Can we pay the men before I make it to the bank?”
“Yes, sir. Our pay chest is in good condition.”
“Pay them so they can enjoy tomorrow. I’ll relay what I heard tonight over dinner so they know what places to stay well away from.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Also, let the sergeants know that I want to speak with all of you tonight.”
“I will, sir.”
~*~*~
When the command staff gathered in his room after dinner, Gregory was somber. “I’ll be seeing the magus of Icelake tomorrow. I have my reports for them and the commander here about the state of camps that should’ve been maintained. This might cause some friction.”
“It needs to be done, sir,” Davis said.
“It was deplorable,” Sergeant Glasson said, his panther tail twitching behind him. “They should be reprimanded for it.”
“We all agree with that, sir,” Bunson said.
“The other thing I wanted to address is that laws are being disregarded,” Gregory added. “Slave laws are clearly being ignored. The magus in Coldwood didn’t care at all, and I doubt the one here does, either, which leaves me with almost no room for trying to make things right.”
“Because pushing at the laws will make them look bad,” Townson said, one hand absently touching his slightly pointed half-elven ear. “We can’t go after those who are doing what the Blushing Maid did in Gardenia, but we could enforce the paperwork on the slavers.”
“I’m nearly certain that every establishment that uses slaves has in excess of the six they should,” Gregory said. “The whorehouses, at the very least. There are rare exceptions for non-magi to have more than six slaves, and I’m certain the high-end places like the Silver Collar have those exceptions. It’d get ugly quickly if we went for the ones we could, and I won’t do that to our men— they’d never find peace in town if we did. I know they’d shoulder a lot for me, but I won’t make them pariahs.”
“Even going after the slavers for their paperwork will draw backlash,” Milton said. “The towns run on slaves being brought in and sold. We won’t end up with the men being targeted by normal citizens, but we will still come under scrutiny from those higher up.”
“We would,” Gregory said. “Tomorrow, I’ll speak to the magus and commander. When we get back to Coldwood, I’ll make a point of speaking to the commander there, as well. I know it’s asking for a lot, but I hope that one or more of them will see reason about the laws being enforced.”
“They’re probably taking money to look the other way,” Davis said.
“That’s true. If it is, well… maybe they’ll push back. I called you all here to hear your opinion on this matter. You’re my men, and I value your advice.”
“Talk. See if we can have an ally,” Bunson said. “Either way, sir, I’ll be behind you. We can push or not, as you see fit to lead us.”
“I agree with Bunson,” Glasson nodded. “We’re with you, sir. Though, I’m more inclined to push. We can’t stop slavery, but we can damn well make sure it’s enforced correctly.”
The others chimed in one by one, each of them agreeing to whatever he chose.
Davis was the last one to speak, “Gregory, you’re our commander. I think we all value you talking with us before stepping off a cliff. But, sir, we trust you. If you think that cliff needs to be walked off, we’ll be right behind you. Maybe it’s a small one, or maybe it’s deadly— that doesn’t matter. We know how much you value the unit. You wouldn’t push us into a grinder unless it was necessary.”
Gregory bowed his head, taking a deep breath. “Okay… I need to accept that. My actions might get our men injured or killed, but that’s the burden of command.” He stood up, composed as he looked over his command staff. “It won’t happen this week or even the next, but we’ll start doing what we can to make a difference. No grand gestures; just honest enforcement of the laws. I know them all, so if they want to push back, they better be prepared for me to argue them into submission. If they come at us with more than words, then we defend ourselves. We are beholden to the laws of the nation, even if we hate them. I won’t let them flout the laws, not when enforcing them can help innocents.”
The sergeants and Davis stood up, nodding in agreement.
“Make sure your men enjoy these next few loops of the patrol, because before too long, we’ll have troubles.”
“Is it funny to think that I’ll enjoy Krogga more than this posting?” Glasson asked.
“I’m already looking forward to it,” Milton said.
“The fights there will be open and obvious, at least,” Townson chuckled. “Got to respect that.”
A few minutes later, Gregory was alone in his room. Taking a seat at the table, he summoned some paper and a pen from his ring. “I should write to my wives and let them know what this year’s going to mean for me…”
