008 – Outpost Avna

“—a soldier’s heart is only as strong as his home. Many of my men have taken local wives and started families. They see a future here; to them, Avna has become a home worth bleeding for. The land is tough but fertile, the local population is compliant, and the strategic value of a permanent, thriving settlement in this region cannot be overstated. I thus formally request permission to commence expansion of the outpost’s primary fortifications—”

The rest of the trip was tense but surprisingly uneventful.

Benessel had remained ensconced in his carriage resting throughout most of the day, only emerging in the early evening to cast a new Ve’un. The process clearly took a lot out of him, perhaps in lieu of unavailable materials. Benessel’s Ve’un was as much religious ritual as protective magic, a series of chants and fluid movements that he recreated flawlessly with each Ve’un.

The ridiculous heights of Ai’s new Semblance skewed her own experience of magic, so having external confirmation that the reality of this world’s magic mirrored the mechanics of A Dirge for the Sun was welcome.

Unlike many fantasy RPGs, there was no mana point system or some other mystical source of energy with which to cast magic. Instead, it operated on a system of tangible costs: How much would the intended result of your spell alter baseline reality?

The Law of Costs demanded payment for every magical effect. The cost of each spell varied. Usually, that payment was upfront—stamina, materials, time. But no matter what kind of spell you were weaving, the cost to be paid was always symbolically meaningful.

For a Karravar like Benessel to be so exhausted—the man supposedly being one of the Varran Republic’s foremost experts in magic—indicated the demanding nature of the modern Ve’un.

Finally, after five grueling days of travel, the caravan arrived at Outpost Avna. From a distance, the outpost looked like a thousand other starter-zone forts Ai had seen over the course of her career.

Closer up however, it became apparent that Avna was more of a town or settlement than a simple fortress. It had clearly been expanded several times over, each new section of wyrmbone and canvas tents walled in with sun-dried clay brick tacked onto the end of the winding serpent that was Outpost Avna.

All in all, Avna was a military town that looked large enough to comfortably house over three thousand people.

The usual hustle and bustle she would have expected from a military outpost was absent, however, replaced by a tense silence. A single watchtower, looking flimsy against the vast, open sky, stood over a main gate built into the defensive wall, which itself was clearly intended to bar entry to some of the larger wyrms that prowled the Varran Desert.

A man in higher quality armor than the others strode forward from the outpost gates to meet them.

He was a stout man, but broad and powerfully built. He wore an impressive mustache, his hands heavily calloused and his features rocky but otherwise unremarkable. He carried himself with the stiff formality of someone unaccustomed to command, as if he was trying his best to fill shoes that he wasn’t quite comfortable in.

His armor was Varran chainmail and wyrmleather padding, worn over ill-fitting but clearly magically reinforced robes. He also wore a curved sword in a scabbard at his hip, made in a familiarly Varran style that Ai remembered from her interactions with tribesmen in the game.

Ai’s thoughts were interrupted as Benessel dismounted from his carriage, his expression grim. He glanced at the rank insignia sewn onto the man’s chest as he stalked towards the man.

“Report, Lieutenant.”

“Y… You must be Karravar Benessel, sir, we’ve been expecting you,” He said, his voice low and gravely. He gave a crisp military salute, a fist raised to his heart. “I’m Lieutenant Baior. Thank Nor you arrived when you did, we’re in a damned mess.

“It’s the Captain, sir. Bandits hit us yesterday, just after our midday meal. They punched through the southern gate and went straight for the command tent. Snatched Captain Iorec from right under our noses.” Baior’s voice began to shake with anger and shame as he spoke. It was clear he viewed the kidnapping as a personal failure.

Baior spoke with the gruff timbre common to laborers the world over. To Ai, he looked to be the kind of man who joined the military not for glory, but for the simple camaraderie and steady pay, a man who defined himself by his loyalty to his fellow soldiers and his superior officer. With his commander gone, he seemed to be left adrift.

“We drove them off, and managed to capture one of their rearguard. We’ve been trying to get’im to talk, but….”

More bandits. Was there a connection with the bandits who’d attacked Benessel’s caravan?

“Tell me about the attack.” Benessel asked, the furrow on his brow deepening.

“They came out of the southern hills. We tracked them down to the canyons but lost’em once the sun began to set; had to pull back before the Veh came out.” Baior supplied, gesturing towards the south. He wearily ran a hand through sweat-matted hair.

“We know they’re holed up in the hills somewhere. But the terrain is a mess of ravines and more than a few caves dark enough for Veh. We could search for weeks and find nothing. We’ve been trying to get the prisoner to talk, but… none of us can use the ka well enough for anything in-depth. Please, Karravar. We need your help.” Baior pleaded.

“You shall have it,” Benessel gave a curt nod, “Sarila. Get the caravan situated and organize a search party. We’ll use the Domga. Keep the party small; only enough men so that we can each have a mount. Go.”

Sari nodded solemnly, clearly exhausted but determinedly dashing off.

“Ayle. I would appreciate your assistance in case there is anything unexpected.” Benessel said, and Ai nodded in silent acknowledgment. If nothing else, she was curious what in-game interrogation mechanics, if any, had survived the centuries.

“Take me to the prisoner.” Benessel commanded the Avnan soldiers.

The bandit was being interrogated in a small tent near the center of the main encampment. As Ai approached, she could hear men shouting and a dull, meaty thudding that screamed of violence.

The air inside was thick and hot, smelling of sweat, blood, and other unmentionable odors.

The prisoner was naked and tied to a post, his head hanging low. He was a wiry man, his body a map of old scars and fresh bruises. His face was a swollen, purpled mess. One eye was completely closed and his lip split and caked with dried blood. Two outpost soldiers stood over him, their knuckles raw and bloody from their efforts. It was clear that the interrogation so far had been a crude and brutal affair.

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Ai found herself at a momentary loss – what role could she play here?

She could put a stop to the violence. If she were still in Dirge, she might have, if the game’s seamless quest generation feature suggested a suitable reward. But she needed to get to Ikkasir to return to Karravaran, and the shortest pathway to that was to help Benessel get there.

The man in front of her was a bandit who had participated in a kidnapping. There was no guarantee that the missing Captain Iorec wasn’t being treated in a similar way as the captured bandit, either.

These weren’t her people. She was but a visitor—what right did she have to intervene? Could she truly countenance torture? Especially now that the game had become reality?

But she’d already intervened in their world. By taking on the World Quest and seeing it through to its end, Ai had been the one to irrevocably set their world onto its present course. And she’d done it to accomplish her personal vendetta, a deeply selfish mission for personal closure.

Human beings are gonna be human beings, wherever they are. [Stormold]’s words suddenly rang in her mind.