Humanists

  We don't bow. - The motto of the Steel Colrs, stamped on the back of their colrs.

  The journey took two days, but was uneventful. The people lived on what they could hunt and gather from edible pnts. Waterman found a geyser of water at a junction of scars, and everyone had plenty to drink. Finally, their destination appeared in the distance.

  "And this is a city?" Sewer asked.

  "No, it's just that the wind accidentally shaped stones into a city," Splinter quipped.

  She felt at home now, using her snarky remarks to jab everyone except Mom and Gloomeye's parents. Maybe she just didn't have time.

  The city was big, very big. How many people were there? Gloomy vaguely imagined a crowd of more than a hundred people (and only recently, thanks to the Mourneers' visit). And there would fit hundreds of hundreds.

  Around it was a wall of rge earth-coloured blocks between white pilrs. The wall was very uneven and crooked, and had obviously been repaired not exactly as the original architects intended, but reliably. It was impossible to get inside. Also because the wall was surrounded by a deep square moat, which was strangely accurate in the shape of the wall blocks.

  As they made their way around the wall, everyone looked carefully for holes and came to hate it, except Dwarf, who clicked his tongue in delight. He was a man of normal height, and got his name from the fact that he liked to dig, which he did in Worldedge. The little one was Thorn, but he refused to answer to 'Dwarf'. After wandering around for a while, the party came upon a group of armed men at a rge stone gate, in front of which a moat had not been dug.

  The warriors wore real metal armour that glittered in the light of day. They had high metal colrs that reached down to their chests, where they shone even brighter. In front of them was a man in real clean clothes - a bck robe and a leather breastpte that connected his shoulder pads to his belt. Real clothes! He also carried a real walking stick. Not just a stick, but a walking stick. What to say - civilisation!

  He had a clean, zy face with flowing, wavy hair (which was both light and dark) and half-closed eyes. He looked handsome, so Gloomy didn't like him right away. But it was a green creature next to him that caught his eyes.

  They crouched down, listened to the coxcomb whisper in their ear, and then straightened up. And how! They were tall and sinewy, with very long arms that reached below the knees. The creature wore a ragged, dirty cloth wrapped in a heavy chain. Someone had carved rings around their neck (like a sadistic colr) and symbols between them. The lines were so thick that red flesh could be seen in them. The head was bald, except for a tuft of hair that stuck out like a stake. The ears were the same as the elf's, but they were constantly shaking. The small nose, which seemed to be pressed into the skull, and the tusks protruding from the mouth reminded Gloomy of a boarler, so he liked the creature right away. Is he an orc?

  "You'd better accept the rules of the new world!" the possible orc shouted to someone at the top of the gate. No, she's a she-orc.

  A group of people were also standing at the gate. One of them with a female voice shouted back:

  "No svers in my city!"

  "Then the city shall no longer be yours!" the orc woman replied.

  "Leave or stay here forever under our stone rain," was the reply.

  The chief sver noticed the arrival of the vilge, counted the people (possibly with subtraction) and waved his hand. His troops moved off immediately. There was a commotion at the upgate - a person was hanging from a rope. There was a special loop on it where they put their foot.

  "My husband is there!" shouted, as it turned out, a married woman.

  Gloomeye couldn't make out what was a reply for her, but she began to descend.

  "What's your problem?" the same voice shouted from the gate, clearly addressing Worldedge.

  "We're looking for shelter," Wolves replied.

  "We can't open the gate while the Humanists are camped nearby."

  "Can you open the gate a little so that one person or all of us can squeeze through?"

  "No!"

  "So what do we do?"

  "I have responsibility for my city, I don't need it over you."

  The rope woman stopped at a distance equal to the height of the elf, or rather the lethargic, from the ground. Finding that the rope wasn't moving, the woman jumped down and nded on her hands and feet, crouching. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a neat topknot, and there were wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.

  "If you want the gates to open, send the Humanists away," she suggested.

  "We can't fight such a well-armed enemy, even if there are fewer of them," Wolves expined.

  "Not less, but more. Much more. Their main camp is nearby," the woman waved her hand, but realising she was trying to dissuade, not persuade, she quickly added: "Yes, there are mostly the mercenaries - Steel Colrs. They are very proud and bow to no one. And force their clients to wear their contract at all times, and if they lose it, they leave immediately. My husband is there," she said in a low voice. "He did his duty by guarding the gate, but no one in the city will help him. I asked them not to send a man on such a dangerous job, but they..." the woman noticed that she was mostly talking to men and stopped.

  "Husband, we need to know more before we rush into the thick of magerot," Merchant warned.

  "Yes, we'll always have time to make foes. 'Specially them who already have ayy whole name." Mom joined to the conversation.

  "We can do some scouting - just take a look and make a decision based on our strength. We have no reason to fight. For now. All the slingers and spear throwers will go with me, just as a precaution," Wolves told them.

  "And me," the woman said.

  Wolves nodded.

  "Kha-khem," Mom and Merchant cleared their throats at the same time.

  "Babyboy. Take care of the rest." Wolves pointed at them both. "Don't worry about me, I'll have Gloomy with me, he won't let me get hurt," the father said, pulling his son to him by the shoulder. Merchant looked doubtful, and Mom frankly disbelieving, but no one argued.

  The band approached the site of the svers' camp. It turned out not to be a camp, but a full-fledged military encampment. The Colrs were building fires, cleaning weapons and conducting drills. In the centre of the camp, a rge canvas hung from poles, reaching down to the ground. Apart from the mercenaries, there were people tied up with ropes and sitting on the ground. Sves.

  Shroomer swallowed loudly and asked:

  "Well? We've seen them, and now the scouting is over?"

  "I would like to see this contract at arm's length. That I would call a scouting," Wolves said thoughtfully.

  "Merchant didn't send us directly there," Shroomer nodded nervously in the direction of the camp.

  "Merchant is your chief?" Wolves asked in surprise. "No one woke me when she was appointed?"

  "No. I mean, not a chief," the mushroom grower was confused.

  "Well, we're done talking then," Wolves snapped, but then he thought and added: "And if you tell her, I'll also tell her that you took her headbands."

  "I..." Shroomer tried to expin.

  "Hush! That goes for everyone. The wind brought us the contract from that tent, if anyone asks. Let's hope that the enthusiastic roar of the city, the entrance under flower petals and an orchestra will drown out any questions. Or does anyone think we should side with the svers?" Wolves asked, looking at his people.

  They all shook their heads vigorously, including the city woman.

  "You will spread out around the camp, just in case. Hide and prepare your projectiles. If I run in your direction, cover me. If there's a noise and I don't run, then go quietly to our people," the non-chief made a pn.

  Gloomy got the best spot - a mushroom grove on the edge of the camp. The middleshrooms were much taller than humans and covered with caps all over their stipes, the great pce to hide. Almost at the edge of the grove, Gloomeye heard screams. He turned to see a sve, a tall, muscur man, breaking the ropes and running towards the woman who had come with them. She ran towards him, but fell and rolled down the hill.

  Something fshed across the man's back, and he fell forward too, stopping after a moment of inertia. He did not move again, but y face down. When the woman reached her husband, she lifted his head and howled. Gloomeye had never heard such an eerie howl, not even from big alms. The worst part was that it came from an intelligent being, but there was no intelligence in the sound. Steel Colrs began to encircle the new widow.

  Turning around, Gloomeye saw the same man who had threatened the city through the orc. He was coming out of the middleshroom grove, adjusting his trousers and also watching the tragedy of the family. Gloomy leapt at him, put his father's dagger to his throat, and pulled him into the mushrooms.

  The chief sver dropped his stick, but his face didn't even flinch, and his eyelids remained half-closed. Is he captured every day? It would be nice if he was.

  "You should hide your face," the prisoner said calmly.

  Gloomy kneed him in the stomach and tried to keep his voice as cold as possible. If the prisoner was calm, why should he worry?

  "Where is the contract?" Gloomeye demanded.

  "You shouldn't apply for a job like this, although I appreciate the enthusiasm," still no smile, no fear in his eyes, no hint of human emotion.

  Gloomeye didn't stand on ceremony this time and kneed him between the legs.

  "I don't think you're stupid, you're just stalling for time. Turn out your pockets," Gloomy looked down at his dirty, tattered clothes, then at the coxcomb's. " Although... Take your clothes off.”

  Gloomeye's new suit was tight around the shoulders and the chest, but too loose around the waist. The guy kept the sver alive by tying him up with his old clothes. He wasn't the special, and it was more of a beating than a real fight. The important thing was that there was the contract on him. Gloomeye held it over his head and walked out to meet the mercenaries.

  Approaching one of them, he announced:

  "I have your contract, and now you serve me."

  "Do I call you Commander-son now?" the Colr replied mockingly.

  Gloomy looked into the mercenary's face and recognised it as his father's. He was wearing a Steel Colr uniform, and there was a cut on his neck.

  "But you have really outdone your father. This time," Wolves said more proudly.

  "That woman..."

  "I don't know. But she was a good distraction, and I acted. They didn't throw her to the sves."

  Approaching a real mercenary (probably. Certainly not Shroomer in disguise) with a burned face and no ear, Gloomy again demanded service. But the Steel Colr didn't respond. With a sigh, Gloomeye tore up the contract into small, useless contracts.

  The mercenary left immediately, and soon the army moved out. They left a half-naked man lying unconscious and a few Humanists. The sves immediately pounced on them, not even bothering to remove the ropes from their arms and necks. The orc didn't react to anything, just looked around absently. The body of the woman's husband and the woman herself were nowhere to be seen.

  The company returned to the gates of the city with the former sves. Gloomeye spent the whole time adjusting his loose trousers. Wolves was immediately approached by Merchant:

  "This is what you call scouting?"

  "We just took the opportunity," and to quickly change the subject, Wolves took off his armour and threw it on the ground. "How do they wear it? Fighting with an armour in addition to an enemy? This is stupid."

  Splinter approached Gloomeye:

  "First the handsome guy in the fancy suit left, then you went in the same direction in rags, and now you're back in a simir suit. I'm at a loss to guess what happened."

  "Handsome? Are you giving out characterizing names now?" Gloomy asked.

  "Would you like me to give you one?" the girl tapped her lips thoughtfully. "Oh, I know - Gloomeye. I think it describes you perfectly, especially now."

  "Thanks. Splinter. I think I'll take that great name. I'll tell everyone to call me what you said?" Gloom-eye?" he adjusted his loose trousers again. What sorcery is this!?

  They were interrupted by the rumble of the gate opening, or rather a single door, but it moved on its own axis.

  A man stood in the passageway, wearing armour that resembled the chitinous ptes of ballistilles - medium-sized alms that dug in headfirst and spat acid from the opposite side. Beneath the ptes were moving joints, also of metal.

  The visor of his slender helmet slid back over his head, revealing an ordinary male face with a long nose and sad eyes.

  "Wait for Lady Rexana," he said as they entered the city. The gate began to close.

  The guards descended on ropes, this time all the way to the ground. They wore brown leather armour with spikes here and there that looked like they had been left over from the leather's previous owners. Over their armour they wore a white loincloth with what Gloomeye guessed was the crest of the city, a pentagon with a schematic representation of a bird underneath. There were a lot of women among the guards, or rather, there were men among the guards.

  Then Lady Rexana came down. She had a square jaw and slicked back blonde hair with lots of braids. An alm fur cloak was slung over her shoulders and attached to her rich clothing by a round brooch with a thin dagger passed it, pointing upwards. A long scar on the right side of her face stretched from her lip, revealing a fang, and up to her eye, which only looked up, following the path of the wound. Her right arm was hidden behind her back.

  "You are enchanted heroes, magic touches you..." she began.

  The armour-cd man cleared his throat in embarrassment.

  "Oh, welcome to my city - Capital, noble lords. I am Rexana, ruler of this glorious city," the woman twirled her left hand and bent slightly. "And this is the royal downer, Aigo."

  The armoured man's eyes widened.

  "Well, he's a jester too. Yes, Aigo, armour doesn't make you a knight, I still expect you to tell dirty jokes. And before we continue..." Rexana took out a dozen rge gold coins and handed them to Wolves. "You have saved my city from disaster, which should be rewarded. Unfortunately, I don't have much money at the moment, but..."

  "In the name of..." Wolves faltered (it was strange to use pre-Break expressive expressions, especially the names of old gods. It was high time to think of something new). “That's more than enough,” he took the coins and looked at them greedily.

  "Very well, then. Modesty adorns any person," the ruler suddenly became serious. "We have seen that the Steel Colrs are gone, and one of you is now wearing the clothes of the Humanist leader. So the pn of Izolde, the woman who came down to you earlier, has worked. But I don't see her or her husband Remus.

  "We haven't found the bodies of Remus or Izolde," said Wolves.

  "I’m very sorry to hear that. Zoldi was always been impulsive, and that never leads to anything good. Now, tell us who you are and why you were so determined to get into Capital?"

  "Our vilge, Worldedge, not far from here, has been ravaged by bandits, and we are looking for a pce where we can start again. And where else but here?" Wolves decided that a little fttery couldn't hurt.

  "Did you survive the wastend on your own? I'll take you, of course. I know how hard it is to fight," Rexana took out her right arm, which ended at hand level, and looked through it at Dayorb. "One blow was enough to make me quit. But I admit I would have taken you anyway. Most of you are men. I don't know about other pces, but Capital gave too many men to the st war. Register at the entrance first, and then we will discuss our cooperation. Perhaps a confident leader like you will see this as a demotion, but we now have a vacancy for Captain of the Guard".

  "We don't have a leader," Merchant interrupted.

  "I'm afraid my ancestors won't understand," Wolves grimaced.

  "We'll discuss that ter. In the meantime, you may choose any unoccupied house," the ruler left with her retinue.

  Unnecessary author's note: Why didn't I kill everyone Gloomeye knew and send him on a journey with only Splinter, like all normal fantasy writers? First of all, we are deconstructing the genre here, in case anyone has forgotten. Secondly, it's an interesting challenge. Parents rarely take part in their children's adventures, because they have to take responsibility for themselves, depriving the protagonists of important choices. Or turn them into irresponsible clowns. But then the authors add a mentor, so why the extra cruelty?

  There are a lot of characters in Worldedge that are only mentioned, so why are they needed? Only a few of them are important anyway. Firstly, it would be strange if the main character didn't know the names of the small group of people he grew up with. Second, it is (100%) possible that Worldedge will have its own arc in the sequel without drawing the hero's attention to himself.