Chapter 8 - Nearing the Borderline

Morality has always been a total enigma to me. I've grappled with it, questioned it, mocked it… but no matter how hard I try, I can't wrap my head around it. People always seem to know what's "right" or "wrong", but I have no idea where they actually get those notions. All seem to agree that murder is wrong, for instance, but there are many confusing exceptions. It's justifiable under specific circumstances like in wartime, duels, or self-defense, but who decides where to draw all these lines?. So the so-called morals are not only contradictory and arbitrary, they also constantly get bent in all directions. What's the point of trying to adhere to them then? It's just a big fat pile of inconsistencies that always get in the way. Ever since I was a child, where I saw a clear problem or a potential solution, others saw a dilemma. It still happens.

I've never concerned myself with such dumb limitations, and it has both helped and hindered me. All the way back from my days in the Jan Academy, to the present. Sure, I've attracted the scruttiny of many because of it, but it has allowed me to survive, and that's all that matters. However, as I've grown older, I've learned that I must try to acknowledge these stupid moral notions for my own sake. Each passing day, I've learned to discern the arbitrary "wrong" that others uphold, even if it baffles me, if only to avoid the noose that awaits those who stray too far from what Stracian society considers "

'acceptable'. 

Still, my livelihood centers around the act of ending lives. So why should anyone be surprised when I do exactly that? It's a matter of survival, nothing more.

 Paul strongly disagrees though.

"Thorne. You attempted murder, didn't you?"

I halt and face him, growing increasingly anxious. This night has been a total fucking disaster, and time is running out to catch and kill Allan Southset.

"Yeah, I did. SO FUCKING WHAT?!"

 Paul stares. I can't tell what he's thinking. I rub my temple out of frustration.

"Listen, it was for the mission, okay? I even got a "Blind Eye" permit or whatever, so it's not like I'm committing a crime or anything."

Paul's stare remains unfazed by my outburst.

"Then why the concern about being hanged if you fail?"

"Oh come on, Crow! Think! A merc like you must know how Blind Eye permits work!"

He nods reluctantly.

"I guess..."

"So stop bitching already. I don't need this lecture from you, Paul. Or anyone. We have a job to do, and I'm going to see it through, so come on!"

I continue walking. He follows shortly after.

Paul, as always, keeps asking for information he doesn't really need and seems to pay too much attention to the small little details that don't matter at all. He also accuses me of having "terrible mood swings" and particularly of having "a fucked up sense of morality", which certainly pisses me off a lot. Right now, I'm emboldened by the adrenaline rush I got earlier from almost being killed and actually killing someone, so I get the urge to blow him up with my staff. I would do it in a heartbeat. Still, I know I can't get rid of him because he's actually useful and it would cause me more trouble. I just push such thoughts to the back of my mind, where they may fester with the other strange thoughts I've had about him for some reason.

After a few minutes, we arrive to the initial site where I made my attempt on Southset's life and it all went to shit.

"It was here. Can you track him?"

Paul crouches and inspects the ground.

"Yeah. It shouldn't be that hard, there's even some blood on the ground."

"Great. Now hurry up, let's go!"

Paul follows our victim's trail. It seems he escaped into the wasteland around the camp, heading west. This region used to be ripe with grasslands and lush forests, but after so many years of brutal fighting, it has turned into this. All the trees in the area have long been chopped off for wood and the remaining vegetation was scorched time and time again by retreating armies. All that remains is mud, rubble and the occasional dead bush.

As we walk and close in on our victim, I am forced to use my staff as a lantern to be able to see anything, as total darkness surrounds us. Paul is fine though, he knows how to use a passive night vision spell, so it seems.

After a bit more of walking, Paul suddenly stops and pushes me to the ground. My heart skips a beat.

"Agh! What the-"

He covers my mouth with his hand and whispers.

"Shh!! We're close, but this guy you're after also knows how to use detection magic! I detected a magic pulse!"

I push Paul off me.

"And?! What was that for?!"

"Have you already forgotten everything about stealth magic I told you?! We must reduce our surface area by being prone to avoid detection!"

"Yeah, I remember, asshole! Why do we have to hide anyways? Aren't we the ones hunting this piece of shit?"

"Not really. This guy's hiding somewhere around here, and he's a combat mage. The moment he detects us, he'll definitely cast a mid-range spell and we'll be done for. In this situation, we're the hunted ones, so keep your voice down!" Paul whisper-yells.

Paul activates all his passive stealth spells, but he says that he can't pinpoint the exact location of our victim because, according to him, casting a detection spell would probably reveal our position right away. We lay completely still on the ground and wait for the enemy to make a move. I hate this so much. I can't do anything or even defend myself because I can't see shit to begin with, so I can't do anything but follow Paul's instructions.

I'm so done with stealth magic. I'm an artillery mage, I just blow stuff up. All these stealth shenanigans are beneath me.

"It's no use, we'll have to lure him out. Listen, I have a plan."

"Huh?"

"I'm going to use you as bait to draw him out of his hiding spot. Since combat mages don't have nearly as much stealth as rangers like me, I should be able to sneak up on him before he gets you. You just lure him out, but don't get shot!" Paul explains hastily.

"What?!"

And then, he simply disappears.

"Paul! Get back here!"

No response. He has vanished.

"GODDAMMIT!"

I am left alone in the total darkness with no way of defending myself. I still have magic fatigue, so I can't cast high energy spells, and even if I could, I can't see anything at all. It's so dark I can't even see my own limbs.

I groan. It seems I'll have to follow Paul's plan. The thing is, how am I supposed to lure Southset out without having him put another hole in my intestines?

I think for a moment and remember that when I tried to sneak close into the Sulostan town with Paul a couple days back, transferring aether to my staff was enough for the enemy sentries to detect us, so I decide to try that.

Still in my prone position, I raise my staff in the air and transfer aether to it without actually intending to cast a spell.

I wait. Then, I catch with the corner of my eyes a small flash of light somewhere behind me. A loud 'ZAP' is heard as an energy bolt spell flies just above me and barely hits my staff. It worked.

I crawl to get to a different position. Now, I know that Southset is around, but I need to make him reveal his own position to give Paul a chance at getting him.

I crawl and hide behind a small boulder I stumble upon.

"SOUTHSET! Did you think you would get away that easily?!"

Another wand muzzle flash appears somewhere in the darkness and an energy bolt spell nearly puts a hole in my skull. Thankfully, he misses, and the boulder protects me. It seems he also has trouble seeing in the darkness.

"Damn you, Thorne! This feud is between Lancaster and me, you have NOTHING to do with it!" He yells.

I change positions. I can hear faint footsteps and hid voice seems to get closer to me.

"Oh, trust me, it does! Now quit hiding and face me like a man, you coward!"

He casts a spell again, and I retaliate with one of my own. We both miss. I scramble to change positions, but it's too late. He has found me.

He tackles me and puts his wand on my throat. I'm unable to defend myself effectively, my vision being so limited and all.

"There you are, you stupid whore!"

He transfers aether to his wand. I desperately struggle and brace myself. He's about to run an energy bolt spell directly through my brains.

Then, Paul appears out of thin air and stabs him through a weak point between his shoulder plates, seemingly with surgical precision. Southset yells in pain and then collapses.

"Good job luring him out." Paul gives me a thumbs up.

"Couldn't you have hurried up a bit more?! I ALMOST GOT KILLED!"

I get on my feet and wipe my clothes.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever... So, is this the guy that caused you so much trouble?"

"Yeah, basically." I reply as I disarm and rob Southset.

He has a couple coins, aether batteries, a heavy-duty wand and a mace designed to pierce armor plates. I'm lucky he didnt get the chance to use it on me.

"Learning from our mistakes, aren't we, Thorne?" Southset says with a pained yet teasing voice.

I kick him in the face.

"Shut the fuck up."

"So, what now?"

"Give me a moment..."

I step on Southset's wound and point my staff at him again.

"Did you tell anyone, you bastard?"

He just scoffs.

"It seems he went all the way here just to patch himself up. I doubt he had time to do so." Paul points at the improvised bandages on his lower torso, where I wounded him earlier.

"Ehh... I can work with that."

I cast a spell point blank. Southset's head gets obliterated as my staff kicks back from the recoil.

Paul stares. I chuckle.

"Haha..."

"What?" He asks, confused.

"Nothing. I just thought... that was actually fun. Thrilling."

 "Crap. You're one of those...You're missing a few screws." Paul spins his finger around his head, clearly trying to emphasize his baseless opinion on my mental sanity.

"Quit your complaining already, geez."

I toss him Southset's coin purse and other valuables I pry from his cold dead body.

"Your share. Thanks for everything, although you surely take your sweet fucking time when doing the stealth shit."

Paul tries to refuse the purse, arguing that its "in bad taste" to rob a corpse, but a single glare is enough to make him change his mind. Paul then goes on and on about how he doesn't believe that what we just did is actually related to the mission and demands a full explanation. I am forced to explain it to him that it was Heather who asked me to do this to convincer to help us.

"Really? All of this, just for her to take part on the mission? That Heather gal is playing you like a goddamn fiddle, Thorne." He taunts.

"Wrong. I've done her bidding, and now she owes me. There'll be a time where I'll need to cash in a favor from her, and according to Stracian tradition she'll be forced to do whatever I want. This is exactly what I intended."

"Yeah, yeah... But you don't seem very interested in following Stracian customs yourself, so what makes you think she will?"

I point at the corpse on the ground beside us.

"Then she'll end up like him."

"You're ruthless, huh?" He remarks.

"We're mercenaries, grow up."

With my business here done, I start walking back to the camp and signal Paul to do the same. Sunrise will be in a few hours, and I want to have some time to clean myself; I'm gross and I smell like iron from all the dry blood on me. Getting some sleep would be nice too.

 "Hey! Aren't you going to do something about this fucking corpse you are leaving behind?!" Paul speaks.

 "What for? I have a Blind Eye permit, remember? It should be fine. Now come on, we need to get back."

Paul mutters something to himself and follows shortly after.

The following morning, there's a commotion in the camp. Two corpses have been found and some guess that they were victims of murder, as the Sulostans would not go out of their way to assassinate to random mercs. Thankfully, due to the Blind Eye permit, no one bothers to investigate further, and everyone simply moves on. They don't suspect I was the one who did it either, but some of the senior officers have been looking at me funny.

Once I painstakingly finish cleaning all the blood of my body and weapons, I get dressed with a new set of clothes and head out to pay Heather a visit. It seems she was transferred to her own tent to rest after they did the leg surgery, so I show up there unannounced. I find her resting on a makeshift bed.

"Hey, Lancaster. How was the leg surgery?" I greet her.

She unenthusiastically waves back at me.

I purposefully sit on her injured leg. She wails slightly.

"Ow! Ow! The hell are you doing?! It hurts! Get off my leg, goddammit!"

I simply ignore her pleads.

"I did the thing you asked. Killed a man. It troubled me greatly, you know? I almost got killed."

"I know, I know! Get off me please!"

"...So I assume I have your unconditional support for the mission, and that you'll repay this extraordinary favor I have done for you when I need it, right?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I will! Now get the fuck out!"

I stand up and she sighs in relief. I then drop Southset's wand and battle mace on her bed.

"Here are his weapons as I promised. Pleasure doing business with you, Heather."

"Yeah, I guess..." She inspects Allan Southset's wand. It's still drenched in blood.

"Well then, I'm leaving. We'll catch up later."

I head towards the exit, but she stops me.

"Hey, Thorne."

"What?"

"Thank you. And fuck you." She shows me her middle finger.

I leave. There are other matters that I need to attend to. It's time to begin assembling the strike group to proceed with the operation.