Gabriel


    It was her first time playing.


    Mel handed her note to Breathless, and I did the same. We sat in the cantrip-lit officer’s lounge hidden deep within our compound. It was only accessible to the inner circle, those of us who’d been here since the beginning. Soft leather lined the chairs while green veins decorated the stone tables which were part of the building itself. The sense of magic pervaded more strongly here than anywhere else within hundreds of kilometers. Calling it HQ sounded better, but the bunker would have been more appropriate.


    Her blue eyes narrowed, staring me down, probably out of habit. She still wore the same old-world black turtleneck and jeans combo, albeit with a single piece form fitting magically reinforced full body suit underneath. It used to be standard mage armor. Nowadays we primarily used composite, or melded according to System terminology, materials instead, but her threads had so much time invested in them that they weren’t worth replacing just yet.


    A pony tail captured her blond hair, complementing a button nose and freckles. The innocent businesslike exterior hid a ruthless intelligence however, further supplemented by a natural demeanor which brooked no shit from anyone. And rightly so, she was our leader after all - an organizational talent to rival the greats. Her hand reached for a cup of once fragrant coffee. It was empty but the habit was so ingrained she tried to drink it regardless.


    The board between us awaited Breathless’ judgment. I still refused to call him by his real name, Ryan. Mel wasn’t trying for anything special, keeping the deployment of her four platoons cohesive and in a line. Mine were never in the basic configuration. My fast movers had been separated out and merged, positioned behind the front.


    This was another thing the nerds had come up with. The arbitrated mock battles were intended to discover a few competent commanders among our inner circle. We had occasional tournaments between the interested. Of course, when my rankings beat the rest, Mel had to see for herself out of sheer disbelief.


    Breathless chuckled, I smiled, Mel sighed. “Already?” she asked, “We’ve barely begun.” My reputation precedes me, that of an annoying little shit. If I had an inborn skill for one thing, it was causing headaches.


    He moved pieces about while talking, “It’s a classic, really only works once against the same person. You chose a straightforward advance and walked right into it. He split the front through the middle in opposite oblique maneuvers and neglected to hold a center, but the fast movers retreated. Your corner elements caught his trailing middle. The result has you trapped in a triangle of his forces, taking fire all the while.”


    “This can’t possibly be tactically advantageous,” she said, “It’s pure chaos.” Indeed, anathema to someone who values order above all.


    Her look demanded an explanation from me, but Breathless interrupted her, “You’d be surprised. Technically this round is now timed, so you’ll have to wait for answers.”


    “It’s fine,” she said, effectively abandoning the game, “I want to hear from you, Gabriel.” First time for everything.


    “Pretty simple, really. You’re right. It is chaotic, that’s what makes it great. Local force superiority is yours, sure, but you have no moves which don’t leave half your troops exposed because you’re surrounded. Mine expose a flank at best.


    Because we have the exact same line-up, it’s all about the rate of attrition. Morale is bad on both sides, so that doesn’t matter – however, my guys knew this was going to happen. Anyway, whoever takes major losses first, that’s you by the way, is going to suffer cascading weaknesses-”


    “Hold on,” she said, “You’re effectively sacrificing everything just to eke out a win.”


    “Yeah, the game isn’t about how much you have left at the end. In this case, we’re both getting brutalized but the positional advantage, slight morale differential and freedom of my fast movers means every move of yours gets countered slightly harder by each of mine. And you can’t reorganize at this point.


    In old-school warfare the play-by-play is incredibly dumb, yet System powers make it viable. If you’d kept some reserves then it wouldn’t work. It’s also a quirk of the mock battles. The unit organization is clear from the beginning, which allows for this kind of stuff. We can go again if you’d like, I have all the tricks up my sleeve.”


    Breathless added on to my explanation, “Even with System powers, it’s not particularly viable in most real world situations. The Pyrrhic victory aside, any objectives like a command post or ground which needs to be held make it a bad play. That being said, it’s very effective in the standard scenario and especially against cautious opponents. Feeling things out triggers the attrition trap.”


    Jen happened to walk past while Mel thought things through. Halting in the doorway, she commented on the board, “Oh, you fell for the suicide gambit. Sucks to be you. Don’t bother playing it out, he’s going to win and we’re supposed to have lunch together.”


    A hint of floral scent followed her everywhere. I winked at Jen, “Mel already gave up, she’s just processing. See you in a bit.”


    My opponent shook her head, “Alright, I’m convinced. It’s dumb and I’m fairly certain nothing like this has ever happened-”


    “Actually,” Breathless said, “the Roman general Sulla did something similar once, to great effect.” Neat.


    “So you’re just copying historical commanders?” Mel accused. Breathless seemed a little annoyed by the comment. Touched a nerve?


    “Nope, had no clue. Go again?”


    “I have better things to do than give you the satisfaction. It’s settled then, you have command. Try not to fuck it up.”


    “I could go for a round,” Breathless said, already taking her vacated space and settling in with familiar comfort.


    He’d bulked up a fair bit in the past year, yet a kind of inherent lankiness remained. Some people were just screwed in that department. His permanent five-o-clock shadow, scruffy black hair and short stature didn’t help either. It didn’t stop him from trying to show off though, wearing a toga on top of his mage suit, of all things. Supposedly, the girly nerd in his team appreciated the style and they’d gotten together recently. The outfit mixed well with the Roman aesthetic we had going on with HQ though.


    Like with all things Dragon Company, the architectural allusion wasn’t a coincidence. Mel had been a corporate ladder climber, once upon a time, and her current ethos reflected that. Everything was about perception, which she managed with precision. Our motto rang ‘in the pursuit of power’, and she made sure that everyone knew, both in heart and mind.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    After he finished resetting the pieces, Breathless’ offer of a match went unrequited. “Can’t, lunch with Jen,” I said.


    “But you just…” he said to my back.


    In truth, I wanted to avoid the headache. His responsibilities as head of R&D precluded him from getting the job, but he ranked closely behind me. There wasn’t much of a skill gap, he might even have been better. Chatting with Jen and hearing the latest and greatest appealed far more than struggling tooth and nail in a game which had served its purpose however.


    We should really touch these up. The inner hallways, while short, weren’t decorated. There was no one who needed impressing here. Thus they lacked the otherwise common spaced antiquity-inspired half-columns integrated into walls and connected by arches, or the tiled floor fa?ade. They did have droppable wall segments every few meters however, which functioned much like blast doors. As such, impromptu fortifications ringed the inner area. Just in case. There was only one way in or out and it exited into my destination.


    Jen waved at me from a corner of the good mess, unlike the common one which served the soldiers and laborers. It was a habit she’d picked up as a result of her job; choosing out of the way spots, not waving. Spies and unobtrusive behavior mixed well, along with her penchant for gossip and excellent people reading. Like Breathless, Jen had undergone some changes since the apocalypse in the appearance department. She’d mostly grown out her wavy blond hair, reaching well past her shoulders now, much to my delight.


    While nominally a mage, her free point had gone into physical endurance to save her life and thus she wore a leather set similar to mine, common among hybrid classes. My pestering had borne fruit however, successfully badgering her to dye it black, obscuring the emerald tinting present in all tier-one materials magical while matching our color schemes. It contrasted nicely with the crimson dragon-wing heart guard we all wore and which signified true membership in our overly militarized organization.


    As always, everything else fell by the wayside as her unusual eyes - one blue, one green - met mine. They captivated me during our first meeting and never ceased to do so. Her support, and by now mutually budding love, had been crucial in keeping me from spiraling into a complete wreck after the Greatbeast battle almost five months ago. She was my anchor and one of the few objectively good things to have resulted from the apocalypse – we’d probably never have met otherwise. The last was true for everyone in our collection of crazies.


    Personal crises weren’t uncommon among our number, but the inner circle stuck to each other like glue. It was why we built all this. The new world suffered no fools, no weakness and certainly no inefficiency. Thus, we created something to ensure our survival and prosperity. Much was sacrificed upon the altar of our continued existence. Had anyone known the extent of it, they might have called us corrupt or reprehensible, but we were alive and it was the only thing that mattered.


    Our actions weren’t all bad, an entire city prospered under our rule. We provided safety, opportunity and organization. In return we didn’t ask for much - fresh faces to fill the rank and file, labor to fuel our magical industrialization and, of course, absolute control. If a few folks had to disappear to make that possible… well, better them than us. Then again, the meat grinder was winding up.


    “What’s with the brooding?” Jen said, after I’d taken my seat.


    “Oh, sorry, nostalgia mostly.”


    “Looking back fondly on the days when you recklessly flung yourself into danger, almost dying every fucking time?” Touchy, but it’s only fair, it was harder on her than me.


    “Hah, no. Still can’t believe I didn’t even wear a helmet. Just thinking about how we’re probably evil as shit.”


    “You and everyone else. It’s always the same circular thought, y’know?”


    “Yeah, yeah. Sure, let’s turn a new leaf and see how long it takes before we get wiped out by some bullshit. Ah, fuck this. What’s new?”


    “There’s my sweet little killer, that’s the spirit.”


    “I’m remembering that the next time I have to dig what’s left of you out of burning rubble.”


    “Kinky.”


    Barry’s voice sounded from a nearby table, “Can y’all get a fucking room? It’s the same shit every day.”


    “As soon as you start changing your damn clothes before showing up here,” I said.


    “He ain’t wrong,” Jeb, who sat across from him added, “Ya carry the brewery with ya.”


    Jen joined in on the fun. “Like you’re one to talk. Half of what he makes, you drink.”


    We continued on for a while, until rattling dinnerware and a coffee shop bakery smell signaled the arrival of our catered lunch. It was coffee, with a kick for those who partook, together with some proper fresh bread and light fruits.


    When taking over the city of Freeport, Jen and Elias raided a ‘skill shop’ for its collection of System-given statlink sheets. Among them was something called ‘creation’, which allowed us to convert manually harvested Errant bones into pretty much whatever, including food. Alchemy took care of the rest, significantly diversifying our food supply. Still, it was a little labor intensive and thus reserved for the privileged, which meant us.


    Jen leaned forwards, engaging in conspiracy mode, whispering, “So, you remember the sneak Kim spent a week trying to catch a few months back?”


    “Oh yeah, it was great. I never saw him so pissed since. He even roped the gun crew into standing by in hopes of vaporizing the prick until Mel put a stop to his vendetta.”


    “Well, get this. We’ve received a letter of apology for it, delivered through intermediary.”


    Now I leaned in too. The post-apocalypse lacked stable entertainment and news was slow after all. “They afraid we’d find out and blow them up?”


    Her foot was tip tapping below the table. “No, no. Well, yes, we’d definitely blow them up, but that’s why they used the intermediary. Turns out, it was a clearblood scouting us out.”


    Rubbing my forehead failed to dismiss the premonition of a massive headache. “Crap, that’s not good Jen. We’re not ready yet. Freeport is basically undefended and we’ll need another month to finish equipping alpha company.”


    She waved my concerns away. “Calm your tits, it’s an apology not a declaration of war. Instead, they invited us over for dinner.”


    “The fuck? Is it the peaceful ones?”


    “Yeah, the letter was all haughty too. It basically said sorry for infringing on your territory, we wanted to make contact and discuss diplomacy but a mall ninja kept trying to kill our rep.”


    I chuckled, “Oh that’s good. Can we have a copy mysteriously appear in Kim’s room? You have people for that, right?”


    Her voice quieted even further, “No can do, we’re keeping it under wraps for now. The idea is to stall until alpha is almost ready, and then we’ll send out two trade caravans. A delegation will split off at the pillar. You’re going to be part of it by the by, assess the enemy and all that. I also need an update on the force org. Since we’re doing this hush-hush, you’ll have to keep quiet on the why. Do an inspection or something.”


    “Shit, she had work lined up even before I got the job? Bitch.”


    “What did you expect?” She sat upright again and stacked our plates, considerately moving them to an accessible corner of the table. “Deadline’s tomorrow so you’ll probably want to get started.”


    “My regret is mounting. Well, I won’t be off tonight then. Training is next, afterwards I need to pick up my stuff and do all that crap while fitting statlink time somewhere in between.” A shared burden hung quiet in the air between us.


    For a couple, we spent an awfully small amount of time together. Every hour carried weight, balancing desire against need, rooted in survival through power. Levels, statlinks, materials, crafts, information, logistics, knowledge, expertise, organization, management; each competed with comfort, morality and personal freedom. Every moment spent indulging the latter lowered our life expectancy, the former extended it.


    She snapped us out of it. “It’s alright, my schedule’s exploded too. Think it’ll be breakfast, lunch and dinner for a while. Maybe stop by for an ‘intel briefing’?”


    We agreed and played up the PDA to mess with everyone else, going our separate ways after. Actually fancy hallways decorated the crisscrossing path towards the sparring room, nothing more than a heavily reinforced square within compound walls. The top had been left open to expose the magically painted starry sky above. A strange kind of lightlessness completed the effect, saving us from maintaining permanent cantrips and turning every hour of the day into bright moonlit night.


    We still had no clue what it did beyond look really nice. It was an illusion to cover the oppressive atmosphere of the fortified roof of our compound interior, kept the cabin fever in check too. While that wasn’t a problem currently, no one truly knew what the future held in store. Case in point. My four instructors waited patiently, three standing at attention, one not giving a shit.


    Today, their lives were going to change forever. For better or worse? Eh, depends.