Chapter 11 - Social Skills

Weapons are one of the cornerstones of Stracian culture. Turns out we're so damm good at killing each other that violence has… entrenched… into our customs somehow. It doesn't help that Stracia is a country so riddled with strife and internal conflict that owning weapons has become a fundamental necessity for day-to-day security and survival. You don't see bakers, shopkeepers and even housewives carrying blades and magic weapons around in other countries.

At least I don't think so, I've never been outside Stracia.

Well, on a second thought, I have. The town the company is besieging is technically on Sulostan territory. It was a border town and it quickly fell to Stracian hands after the war began.

All these endless conflicts, the ongoing war with Sulost, and the sheer amount of people looking to buy means for killing each other have made arms manufacturing and sales one of the most profitable business in Stracia. It's so bad that your average Stracian is able to walk to pretty much any store in any city or town and purchase a fucking longsword if he pleases. I also doubt you see stuff like that that in other countries.

Such thoughts cross my mind as I head to the local CULT office to buy some military-grade goodies. Who am I to complain? If anything, the Stracian arms trade makes my life easier.

After my recent date with Paul… I guess you could call it that…I force him to tag along to do some shopping. I need to replace my robes, they're worn out and smell like iron from all the bleeding I did while wearing them, and the entire situation with Allan Southset convinced me it's time to get an upgrade. 

It's probably a good idea either way, the special operation is coming up and I'd like to have brand new equipment.

I must admit that I'm still kind of nervous from the encounter I had with the officers, but his detection spells help put my mind at ease.

The air smells particularly shit today. I goes to show just how big of an impact the war has had on the region.

"Hey, are you alright? You're still tense…" Paul speaks as we approach the building made out of blackened bricks that constitutes the CULT office.

 "Of course I'm tense! I almost got turned into a pulp of minced meat by those rogue officers earlier today! I would be dead right now if your sweet ass didn't randomly decide to show up at that moment!"

"Uh… Thanks?"

"Listen, I really need to complete the mission… Only death awaits me if I stick around much longer…"

"I guess we better get down to business then."

We enter the CULT building and I'm not surprised because its as gloomy as ever. I make it a point to tighten my staff's strap so they can't take it away from me like they did last time, and approach the counter. There, the same bitchy receptionist awaits us.

"Ah, Ms. Thorne... Good evening. It seems you made good use of the Blind Eye permit we gave you last time." She speaks as she browses some documents.

"No I didn't." I reply, trying deny whatever she's implying

"Come on, Ms. Thorne. At the Council for Ulterior Lucre and Traffic, we know everything. There's no point in trying to hide it." She smirks.

"Whatever. Me and my partner here need to purchase some tools for work."

"Ah, I understand. Follow my colleague, please." She instructs.

One of the CULT employees escorts Paul and I to a separate area within the building where they run a weapon store. While the CULT itself does not produce any weapons, they distribute them here because there aren't any weaponsmiths nearby.

The excuse of a store itself is dark, moist, crammed and claustrophobic. There's noy a lot of space because, unlike the rest of the building, the walls containing it are thick and reinforced. Theres also a lot of security personnel around.

Weapon stores and armories require such protection because they are particularly prone to bring robbed. Stracia has plenty of problems with outlaws, separatists, elven terrorists and other lowlifes, so generally it's a good idea to keep dangerous weapons like these off their hands. Or at least to attempt to do so.

Once inside, I feel more or less like a kid in a candy store. They have all types of weapons here; daggers, long swords, polearms, axes, crossbows and even some rare arbalests. The variety is a treat to the eyes, but these weapons are not what I'm looking for.

I tell Paul to meet me outside once we're done and he goes off to buy some boring stealth equipment for the mission. 

"Might I ask what are you looking for, Ms.?" A CULT employee approaches me as I wander and eye the barely organized piles of weapons all around me.

"Ah, yeah. I'm looking for a sidearm. Something light and reliable...but still able to kill people just fine when I can't use my staff." I explain.

"Perfect. In that case, follow me."

The employee takes me to a different pile of weapons. 

"Alright, these are some of the side arms we have available at the moment. Most of them are used, so they're at a discount."

I take a look. Blades, a bunch of them. It's a diverse assortment of adventurer-style short swords, daggers and survival knives, each with its corresponding sheath. I don't like what I see.

"I'm not really looking for bladed weapons... Don't like 'em"

"Really? Why not? Most mercenaries quite appreciate the intimacy and lethality a blade provides; it's more satisfactory to defeat an enemy with a blade."

I glare at the employee.

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm not a psycho, I don't get satisfaction from cutting people up with a blade. Blades are too slow anyways, the only thing I care about is being able to kill people fast."

"W-Well, In that case, a wand is what you're looking. However, you should get a blade anyways. They are always useful in a pinch and any self-respecting mercenary carries one around." 

I've never needed to carry around sidearms or blades for that matter. My role as an artillery mage doesn't require me to come in contact with the enemy very often. Most of the time, I'm surrounded by friendly infantry that protects me, and I only really need my staff for dealing out artillery spells. However, after my encounters with Phillip Engel and Allan Southset, I've come to realize that it might actually be a good idea to have a sidearm as a backup.

"If you say so..." I reply, and choose the first survival knife I find in the enormous pile of blades.

The employee then takes me to where they keep the wands for sale. I take a look. They have wands of all shapes and sizes, some of them are as small as a pen and others as long as my forearm.

"Say, Ms. Do you have experience using wands?"

"Just the basics... I don't really know any wand-specific spells. I use my staff as a primary weapon after all."

"Well, in that case, I recommend this basic sidearm wand. It's a popular model and it'll last a long time."

He shows me the wand. It's a thin stick, about twenty centimeters long, made out of Stracian oak. It has decent quality.

"Looks good. What's the maximum push force this thing can handle without exploding?" I ask as I wave the weapon around.

"About a hundred aether units per second." He explains nonchalantly.

I blink at him.

"Huh? Only a hundred? That's fucking miserable. I wouldn't even be able to punch through steel armor plates with this thing!" I complain.

"Well, it's only a sidearm, Ms. It's not meant to have much firepower."

" 'Not meant to have much firepower'? That's just dumb. I need something that will be able to make the heads of my enemies explode like a drop of waiter in burning oil. I won't take anything less…"

The employee gives me a funny look, which is clearly undeserved, and he grabs a different wand. This time, he shows me a heavy-duty combat wand, similar to the one Southset was wielding. It's thicker and longer, and has a steel handle.

"That's a newer model. It's designed for the combat mage class and can tolerate up to nine hundred aether units per second."

"That's a bit better..."

"Although, I don't really recommend it to you, Ms. Casting spells with it is difficult because it has a lot of recoil..."

"Do you think I can't handle a little recoil? I'm a fucking artillery mage!" 

The employee is visibly annoyed at me.

"Uh... With all due respect, you can handle a staff's recoil... not a wand's... It's completely different, the staff has a recoil buffer mechanism and it's easier to grip it. The wand is harder to control because it's smaller..."

After some back and forth, the employee convinces me that the heavy duty wand it's not worth my time and I end up purchasing the basic sidearm one. After that, I decide to get some new mage robes and combat gear.

I am a Stracian woman and as such I take great pride in keeping my beauty and style at any time despite the circumstances, even if I kill people for money. Doing so keeps my morale up, protects my dignity and helps differentiate me from the others. This is why I'm particularly careful to choose clothes that are stylish but also durable and suitable for combat.

The issue is that the CULT store doesn't' have a large variety of clothing available and it's difficult to find clothes that are good enough for combat and that fit well with my typical northern Stracian auburn hair and green eyes. I end up buying a set of black robes that come with a leather belt and some straps. Although, I don't like it that much, I'd rather wear more colorful clothes like the ones I had before, but whatever, this will do.

When I'm done paying for everything, I meet up with Paul outside the store.

"New, outfit, huh?" He speaks.

"Yeah. I always dress for the occasion." I showcase my new mage robes.

"And I guess the 'occasion' means killing, lying and coercing?"

"Yup. What did you get?"

He shows me his backpack.

"Eh, some boring stealth equipment you probably don't care about."

 "I sure don't. Now, lets go."

I'm barely able to conceal my uneasiness as we head back to the camp. I am certain that Phillip Engel and the saboteur officers have added me to their hit list for refusing to collaborate and sticking to the Overseer's side. I bet I'm pretty high up in that list, but I don't blame them.

Thankfully, we're not greeted by an ambush immediately upon arrival. I guess it's too risky to attempt to shamelessly get rid of me in broad daylight, even for Engel and the saboteur officers. Besides, Paul's keeping Paul serves as a deterrent. Only a fool would try to sneak up on a ranger, given their detection spells and such.

"Ok. So how do you actually plan to put the strike group together?" Paul asks.

I have no idea.

"Uh... My friend Jason can help us out... His shift ends about this hour so he's probably at his tent."

"Sure." He says.

So we unpromptedly show up at Jason's tent. He's also a veteran artillery mage, so he gets his own.

"Jason! Jason Hansen! Are you in there?" I yell from outside.

"Yeah, yeah, hang in there!" A tired voice is heard from the inside.

After a moment, he finally comes out of the tent. He looks tired and sore, and he's not wearing his uniform.

"Ah, Rose! And company...? It's nice to see you, but I'm not really in the mood to go for a drink right now... I'm too tired..." He says as he rubs his face.

"I understand, but this is work related and I need your help..."

Even though Jason's exhausted, he agrees to hear me out and we go inside his tent to talk more privately. After briefly introducing him to Paul and explaining the entire special operation and strike group situation, I begin my attempt to persuade him to help us out and join the operation.

"Ha! Rose Thorne herself putting together a strike group, I would never have guessed that! It seems you're back to your usual antics. Haha!" He chuckles.

"I-I have no idea what you mean…whatever, will you join the operation, Jason?"

"Sure. I could use the extra pay, and strike group work is always fun. But that's not what you came here for, right?"

"I- Uh... The thing is that I thought I would be greatly beneficial to-"

"She wants you to help her actually put the strike group together. It seems she's a bit shy." Paul interrupts me and jokes as if he's the fucking court jester.

"..."

Jason bursts out laughing.

"I should have guessed. You we're never the most sociable, Thorne." He mocks.

"Fuck off!"

"Ah, don't worry, I'll help you, alright. How many people do you need?"

"About fifteen; a squadron of experienced artillery mages... support mages, combat mages, light infantry and a couple stealth specialists such as Paul here." I point at paul with my hand. He waves innocently.

Jason scratches his head.

"Mmm...yeah, it's doable." He shrugs. "There are plenty of experienced mercs willing to do whatever to break free from the boredom of this siege. I know a couple, we can start there."

"Great, let's go."

"Woah, hold up, we're doing this right now...?"

"Yes. There's a deadline and my life is on the line too."

Jason sighs and puts on his mage robes.

"She tends to do that." Paul comments as we head out.

"I know, I know... She can be a bit impatient sometimes."

"I can hear you, you too!" I yell at them.

The sun will set in a few hours and most activity in the camp is ceasing as mercs go to their sleeping grounds to rest or go to grab something to eat. It's the perfect moment for socialization. At this time of the day, I'm usually resting in my tent or drinking at the bar, so I've never really 'socialized' with my colleagues. In fact, I'm only friends with Jason and Heather because they approached me first.

"Alright. I know a couple support mages that could be interested in the mission. We're going to meet them and I'll introduce you to them, and then you do the talking." Jason explains.

"A-Alright."

We arrive to the area around the camp's canteen and find a group of five off-duty mages sitting around a campfire while playing cards on a wooden plank. These men certainly look like the scary and mean type, but Jason joins in and sits beside them like if it was nothing.

"Good evening, gentlemen!" He greets with his typical overly friendly tone.

"Ah, Hensen, good to see you." One of the men replies.

"Good to see you too. Gambling again, although."

"Hey, leave each one to their poison!" Another complains as he deals the cards.

"Sure… Today, I brought some company with me. This is my friend Rose Thorne and her associate, Paul. We're doing some serious business, guys."

Paul and I awkwardly greet them. Although I'm pretty sure I'm at least ten times more awkward than he is. I don't know what to say or where to fucking hide, so I just stand there.

"Oh yeah?" One of the men replies as he shuffles a deck of cards.

"You bet, man! It's something big, and profitable. And as you guys probably have nothing better to do than gambling all day, I figured you would be interested."

"What is it?" He asks, clearly not caring and more preoccupied with his stupid cards.

"A strike group, of course!"

The five gambler support mages instantly turn their heads towards Jason. He has piqued their interest.

"My friend Thorne here will explain the details." He throws me under the bus.

They turn their gazes towards me.

"Uhh... yeah. We're putting together a strike group to breach the walls of the enemy town..."

"Hold on. Isn't that just a suicide mission..?"

"Yeah, the Sulostan garrison is armed to the teeth...their mages would retaliate pretty much instantly if we get anywhere close to those walls..."

"No, actually. We have a really really good plan. But we need support mages for it to work." I state.

They exchange gazes. They don't look very convinced.

Paul facepalms. Jason sighs.

At that moment, I get the sudden urge to bury myself. Jason intervenes to save the negotiations.

"D-Don't get it wrong, gentlemen! Thorne, the mastermind behind this, has secured all the resources and intel required for the operation, it will be like a stroll in the park. Besides, Crow here is a stealth specialist and he has found a way to make it work. Tell them, Crow!" He slaps me on the back and speaks with the confidence of a deceitful merchant. The whole thing makes me want to shrivel up and die on the inside.

"Oh, yeah. We did a lot of scouting and found multiple spots that could allow us to sneak close enough to the walls to get a squadron of artillery mages to blow them up. There's a good chance it might work." Paul casually explains.

"Exactly! You would only have to protect us if anything were to go wrong. I'm sure this will only be trivially easy for such distinguished mages like you!"

"Ehh, probably." They reply. Jason's getting inside their heads, it's working.

"What about the pay though?"

"It's great." Paul says." Since I started working with Thorne, my pay has almost doubled."

The mages, hesitate a bit, but they seem to be close to agreeing.

"Umm, sure, sign us up. But, before that, one thing..."

The mage turns himself towards me.

"You're, like, a sub officer, right?" He points at my dammed insignias. "Well, I wanted to ask you small favor. Once of our friends was murdered in his tent a couple days ago... do you know anything about that?"

All my organs sink at once.

"Oh, that's terrible... I wasn't aware..." 

"Well, it seems like the higherups are doing jack shit to find out who murdered him..."

"Yeah, they didnt even start an investigation... Could you put in a word for us so those shit-head officers can actually do their job and dispense some justice for our friend? Do it and we'll partake in this strike group thing." The other says.

"Uhm... Sure. I'll tell you if I find anything..." I smile at them.

Paul gives me a suspicious look. I discretely tell him to knock it off.

"Well then, gentlemen. It was a pleasure doing business with you." Jason says as he gets up. "You'll be hearing from us soon. Thorne says we're expecting to move out with the strike group soon."

"Alright."

The mages return to their card game and we leave.

"Geez, you really have to work on your social skills, Thorne." He says.

"Shut up."

"Anyway, I'm off to my tent. Do you need anything else?"

"Actually, can you go around recruiting more people? You're better at it than I am... I'll pay you handsomely." I offer him.

"Eh, I would have done it regardless, but I could use that money. Sure!"

"Thanks, Jason..."

 Jason says goodbye to us and leaves. It's night already, so I decide that's enough for the day. I send Paul on his way and tell him to meet up with me next morning to continue planning the operation.

I instantly regret allowing Paul to leave when I see a bunch of officers menacingly stand around a dark corner and then disappear when I'm walking to my tent.

Shit. I'm probably getting murdered tonight.