CC 9: Tenacity ~ Thirty-Three

Quest updated: Student Ritualist III. Monsters slain by the Ritual of Slaughter: 183/1000 (914 Marked before activation.)

Experience gained! Calculating experience…

Your Village has completed the second Beast wave needed in order to upgrade into a Town! Beast waves remaining: 23/25.

“The second wave had hit during that? They can overlap? Abyss.” Once again, Joe anxiously watched the ‘experienced gained’ notification, hoping for a new outcome and a surge of points for his next level. It wasn’t to be: the words continued to spin his hopes up without ever allowing them to be fulfilled. Resisting the urge to scream his frustration at the sky, Joe remembered that the system was, if not alive, then at least controlled by an intelligent entity. At moments like this, the Ritualist had the intense sensation that something was watching him, and that intensified every time he glared at the spinning message.

Taking a deep breath, Joe slapped a smile on his face and shifted his focus to his companions, getting ready to share their excitement over the results of the battle. But his smile fell away as he realized that he was utterly alone in his jubilation. Searching more and more faces, he quickly understood that this was the norm for the vast majority of the people around him. Nearly every individual looked grim, and Joe finally realized that he'd drastically underestimated the potential damage these Beast waves could inflict, even at such a low bar for completion as moving from a Village into a Town.

Not just in the physical destruction, but in the impact it would have on the mentality of the people trying to keep the Village intact. It was clear that the aftermath of the assault had left everyone shaken to some degree.

That wasn’t to say that the destruction was not extreme. The truth was, the area lay in ruins. Its once… if not proud walls, then at least proper defensive barriers, had been reduced to barely more than crumbling remnants. All they did now was serve as a visual reminder of the deadly battle that had just unfolded.

The sounds of combat had long faded away, and weary and fearful civilians began emerging from wherever they'd been hidden away. Even without having been an active part of combat, their faces were etched with fear and exhaustion. All too soon they stood among the debris, and a swift check told Joe that there was practically no building between here and the entrance to the walls that hadn't suffered some level of damage.

Soon accusations and shouting erupted, and demands to flee the failing Village were being thrown about. Joe did his best to resist holding any resentment toward them, knowing that their concerns were valid. As the situation of a lack of walls, massive numbers of monsters to go, and nearly all of their trump cards having already been played sank in, more of the calls and shouts shifted to the population questioning the very foundation of the Village, the viability of the settlement as a whole.

“We should abandon this place to its fate, start over somewhere else!”

“Why’d we even bother to set up a Town Hall? All that does is put restrictions on how much we can build, and where! Now it brings such strong Beast Waves like this?”

As he had been the one to initiate this dilemma, Joe's heart felt heavy with the weight of responsibility. He stood next to the walls that had been reduced to gravel, allowing the blowing wind to strike him with full force as he tried to get his thoughts in order. His gaze traveled over the buildings, and Joe realized that the structural damage of the buildings was actually the least concerning aspect. After all, a simple Ritual of Repair, an investment of mana, and a small amount of time would be able to completely restore the area into a pristine condition.

No, it was the loss of life that shook Joe to his core. His steadfast allies, the Legionnaires of the Dwarven Oligarchy, had borne the brunt of the battle. They had lost many of their warriors and gained very little in return. Already, their anger was palpable, and gruff voices snarled for recompense or wailed as they realized their loss. The tense unity that had been created in this Village had been fractured, and it pained Joe deeply knowing that he was the tip of the spear that had guided—forced—this disaster.

“I’m not gonna blame myself for this. I was just trying to make a haven, a refuge against the encroaching monsters-” the Ritualist shut his mouth with a *click*, stopping that train of thought forcefully as his wisdom allowed him to intuit his true reasoning at that moment. “No… all of this was done so that I could fulfill my desires. I just wanted to be able to escape as soon as I wanted, to move on when it was convenient. I wanted freedom… but this isn't… this isn't the way. Running away isn’t freedom.”

Closing his eyes, he adjusted his thoughts then and there. “I've been saying I want freedom for so long, but what does that even mean to me? What’s there to gain from unfettered freedom? I'm not… this was not about freedom. Is meaning what I've been missing? I've been searching for meaning in my life, and I still believe that it lies within my capabilities, my magic especially. But if I truly want meaning… then I need to accept responsibilities. Can I truly have one without the other? I think… I can’t.”

Opening his eyes once more, he swept his vision around the devastated area, committing to memory everything that he was seeing at this moment. The broken terrain, buildings that looked like they'd gone through an earthquake, and citizens mourning the loss of their friends or family; teetering on the brink of despair, already prepared to abandon the Village they had established, their new home.

He knew what he needed to do.

As he was already standing next to the Town Hall, he simply walked over, opened the door, and stepped inside. He found a group of solemn-faced Masters surrounding a table, glumly staring down at the feeble map of the area they'd been able to compile. Joe's eyes were locked on Grandmaster Snow, and he stepped forward and offered a salute. “Grandmaster. I’m still not entirely certain where I went wrong, but please allow me to fix what I’ve broken. I know that I'm no longer officially a Major General, but my heart still lies with the Legion. Seeing my adopted people hurting like this is… it's almost enough to break me.”

For a long moment, only silence was returned to him, and Joe felt his head bow forward in shame. Then a sigh of discontentment reached his ears, and Snow snapped at him. “Oh, stop wilting like a flower. You want to take responsibility for this fiasco? Fine. But wrong. All I see is a man that  finally realized why we were so hesitant to invest into the Village. Why we wanted to move slowly. Perhaps you even have an inkling as to why we’re wary of humans and their strange attitudes?”

“They all act like their lives are as fleeting as they once were.” Master Stu grumped with a heavy tone. “Until your people realize that your lifespans are essentially endless, and death is merely a waiting game until you're returned, you are going to put us all at risk! I just don't get why you can't get it through your-”

“Enough, Stu.” Snow’s words were filled with resignation as she watched Joe take the verbal beatdown without a single complaint, hint of bitterness, or flash of arrogance in his eyes. “Frankly, Joe, I don't know what came over you when you got here. It was like you were infected with paranoia, and saw enemies where none existed. For the first time since you were hit in the face by a chill wind, you’re stepping up and offering to do what is needed. Perhaps you’ve reached puberty for your race?”

Joe let out a soft groan as he did his best not to grumble in annoyance or snap at her. For all he knew, she didn't actually understand… then he saw the mirth dancing in her eyes, and recognized that she was messing with him. That allowed him a moment of relief. If she were open to debate and discussion, as well as inviting humor into the mix, hopefully not all was lost.

“I’ll admit my own fault. I could've handled the situation better. I'll explain some of the reasoning your detractors have been highlighting right now. You lost every title that bound you to us, that gave you position, while also helping you to see us and our actions favorably. The fact that you don't even have the same restrictive title that’s been placed on the rest of us as well as your fellows, well… it made some of this Council… concerned. I’ll tell you true, there are still several among us that think that you've become a traitor to our people, and aren’t to be trusted.” Snow seemed to be speaking as though she didn’t feel that way, her words were reluctant and apologetic. “It is my duty to represent all Dwarves, and unfortunately not all Dwarves trust you even a fraction as far as they could throw you.”

With this clear explanation, Joe searched over his previous interactions with the Council, realizing how his annoyance with them and refusal to adhere to their requests could be used against him as evidence proof that he'd turned against them. He could even see where Snow had been attempting to guide him to an answer that would assuage their concerns, but he'd seen that originally as her calling him out or specifically attempting to infuriate him. “I can only hope that we’ll be able to move past that.”

“Joe. Hundreds of our warriors were just killed, and our defenses not just breached, but in large part eradicated. I personally trust that it was simply beyond your control.” Speaking gently for the first part, Snow’s words shifted to be as icy-cold as her namesake. “Yet, I still hear the demands of our people, and they’re even more concerned about your loyalties at this moment. I've already received dozens of appeals for this location to be abandoned, and they're well thought out and reasoned. It seemed the erstwhile leaders of the civilian factions had nothing better to do while they were hiding in their buildings than write up demands and petitions.”

Joe was aghast at the whipcrack turn this conversation had taken, and attempted to pull his thoughts in order. Before he could state his case, argue, or fly into a rage depending on which of his Characteristics took hold of him, Snow finished her thought with a long-suffering sigh. “Frankly, Joe, I am beholden to the whims of my people. I’m not seeing a good reason not to go. To build our people's City up as we need it to be. Over decades, if need be.”

“I fully understand. But there is another way; what I believe is a better way.” Joe gathered himself, fighting down his inner greed hamster as he forced out the words that he was holding within him. “First off, I’d like to gift the council sixty percent of all of the monster corpses that I'm due for the slaying of creatures moving through the killing fields—less upkeep costs—when they're defeated and destroyed by the ritual towers I’m placing on your walls. I believe it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that number would soon reach thousands, perhaps even tens of thousands of corpses that are slowly increasing in rank.”

Joe could see surprise on the face of every person in that room, and it appeared that Havoc was about to reach out and strangle him. He wasn't certain if they'd made a different decision beforehand, but the Ritualist knew that even forty percent would be enough for him to continue his work at a decently fast pace. “Second, I propose to create a path of safe escape for the people that choose to remain within this Village. Everyone that we know, as far as the eye can see, got here because they stepped into a bubble and trusted that it would take them to the bifrost. I can't guarantee it would get them there, but I can certainly send them somewhere within fifty miles at high speed.”

“They were only going to set a twenty-five percent tax, you daft-”

“Simple, but perhaps an effective solution.” Snow sharply cut Havoc off, then paused and debated on her next words, hesitation clear on her face; obviously torn between her longing for safety and security versus the unknown perils that awaited them if they remained within the confines of this Village. “If there’s one thing that’s easy to trust, it's self-sacrifice and the willingness to do what needs to be done at great personal cost. I think… I do believe that perhaps this could…”

She paused and once more considered her words extremely carefully. Tense silence remained with the remaining Masters, which was slowly replaced with hesitant nods and tentative agreeing murmurs. All except for a few of them, whose faces turned a deeper crimson as they realized that the council was going to cave and trust this outsider, this human, once again.

Master Dreamstrider, one of the few Masters on the council that Joe had previously directly engaged with, was finally unable to contain himself and gently slapped a palm on the table to pull attention to him. “I am sorry, but I won’t be remaining in a place that allows this walking disaster of a human to run rampant! You may make your case to as many as you would like, but I will be leading the faction that desires to thrive in our traditional ways far from here.”

“Dreamstrider!” Grandmaster Snow barked with great shock as the current member of the council stood and refused to meet her gaze. “You forget your place!”

“I forget my place? My place was atop a mountain, a world away, molding the minds of those who dreamed for more!” He didn't stay to argue, and slowly four more of the Masters stood and joined him in this small exodus.

Joe watched as the departing Dwarves disappeared from the room. He knew their departure was a loss, a crack in the foundation of this new civilization they were trying to build. He could only hope that the citizens and warriors that did remain would recognize the truth of his words and actions, and would be filled with the flame of determination: a resolve to rebuild, to forge a path forward into the unknown, no matter how difficult the road ahead was.

Before they could get too far, Joe chased after the departing Masters and handed them a stack of Ritual Tiles. “I'm sorry for the part I had to play in the loss of… I don't even know how many members of the Legion.”

His words trailed off as he collected himself, then gestured at the tiles. “Please know that I’ll never say a word against you leaving, and I’d only ever greet your return with open arms and a smile on my face. I know it isn't much, but please accept these so that you have somewhere to survive the cold night that is falling on us, until you're able to create the home that you desire.”

It took a few moments before the tiles were accepted, and no further words were exchanged. But Joe had seen the stony glares being sent at him soften, and knew that there was no more he could do at this point. Once more alone, Joe glanced into the distance; where a gaping hole in their protections was practically begging monsters to swarm through.

Instead of walking over and diving into the work by himself, Joe steeled himself to once more work as a team. Perhaps eventually he would be confident in leading, but for now he decided to content himself with following the needs of the many. Turning around once more, he stepped into the Town Hall and joined directly into the discussions of how to move forward.

Joe could only hope that, going forward, the relationship that he'd strained would be able to heal. It was time to do more than seek the fastest route forward, working around the Dwarves as though they were obstacles to his success. They were far more than that: they were friends, companions, brothers-in-arms, and even customers.

It didn’t matter if he would be able to try again as many times as this world demanded, perhaps every once in a while needing to explore the far reaches of the planet. The Ritualist knew that he’d never be able to live with himself if he didn’t make every effort to ensure that the people around him not only survived, but thrived.