Dalric slowly exhaled.

  He had arrived back at the camp to an unexpected amount of fanfare. As he returned with the blue steel slab weighing on his shoulder and the black panthers weighing on his mind, the gates opened to a crowd in full applause. Night had more than arrived by that point, yet a few hundred people had stood around the entrance to welcome him like a soldier coming home from war.

  It reminded him of the time when he was just that. Before he had no homes to return to. They had applauded him back then too, though he didn’t recall how he felt about it.

  At first, he had felt confusion as he walked into the claps and cheers. All he’d done was drop some baby gators off. Taking a wider perspective, he’d returned a number of animals to their respective homes, but while he understood that was somewhat altruistic of him, it was far from the kind of thing that would gather a crowd in the middle of the night.

  His ‘answer’ had come in the form of the person who stood at the head of the crowd.

  Whether because of his ancestry or his personal gratitude or his apparent endlessly bleeding heart, it was Adlar that had decided Dalric’s actions were so great that there had to be another celebration on top of the one they already had a few days prior. As one would expect, most didn’t see the need that he did, but the amount that had followed his lead at the mere suggestion was no small number. Somewhere between a third and a fourth of what remained of the camp had gathered under the night sky to have something of a banquet for his return. Once more, there was singing, laughing, dancing, bonfires, and far too many plates of food.

  It got so festive that hundreds of the others who had originally abstained from the celebration came up to join in. At its height, there were likely a thousand individuals making merry in one way or another.

  Now, it was winding down. From the moon’s position it was approaching second bell, or around 4 am as they would say nowadays, and Dalric was exhausted. While he had been saved the pointless throne that he had the first time, he had only partially been saved from the constant attention. Far less had sought him out, but considering how his day had gone since before the sun even rose, his mental rope had been quite a bit thinner than before. At first, all the warm regards had actually boosted how he felt mentally, but after a certain point it felt less like receiving thanks and more like being treated as an idol. That was weight he didn’t need.

  Thankfully, it would seem that was finally behind him. The past thirty minutes had been visitor free. Part of that was likely because he sat on a bench with the drakens and a few other former soldiers. He hadn’t done so to deter anyone. Ryku was just nowhere to be found and of the rest of camp, maybe besides Adlar, the two draken resonated with him the most. That had an energy he found familiar almost.

  With no one venturing toward him anymore, his role was done, but unlike what he originally planned when the banquet began, he stuck around. Around the bench, they were chatting and joking about their histories.

  “They good over cold rations. Damn drink taste of mud soup.”

  “Truth!”

  “Dragon boy never drink cold ration.”

  “Hrm. False. Draken training Temor mountain, drink liquid stone.”

  “Hah, Salian problems. At bottom you had cold rations. Bitch gave no. In snow period, our rations bite frozen turds.”

  They all laughed.

  Dalric didn’t have the strength to keep mentally translating the conversation, but he still passively understood most of it. They were talking about how tube, the mud looking gruel they were fed, actually tasted better than the mud tasting food they were given on active duty. The human that compared his regiment’s food rations to frozen turds in the winter apparently fought for a notoriously stingy queen north of the Salian Empire. He took great joy in insulting her at every chance.

  The others seemed a bit more loyal to their rulers, but they all took part in the time honored tradition of insulting their former chiefs, captains, and commanders. Compared to the constant stream of people wanting his attention and engagement to revere him, listening in and being a part of the atmosphere felt… nice. Much nicer than he thought it would be. He thought the experience would trudge his grief back up, but it didn’t. Instead, it brought… he wasn’t sure. Hope? Whatever it was, it was an unexpected, but appreciated reprieve.

  Less than an hour later, the reprieve just about came to its end. By then, little more than the apparent degenerate alcoholics remained meandering around. Dalric had important objectives to meet, so he turned to the last two remaining by the bench to give his goodbyes, but as he did he saw Adlar approach. They had not crossed each other aside from the very beginnings of the festivities. Not that Dalric had avoided the six legged atka, but rather that Adlar was the type to constantly bounce between different pockets, checking up on the others. It seemed it was finally his turn.

  Dalric flashed him a genuine smile, “It seems you made good on your hopes to repay me sooner than expected.”

  He appeared confused for a moment, then he shook his head, “How could that be, when you have but added to our list of debts?”

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  “Hm? Added to your list of debts? How?”

  The two left at the bench were Heitor and a human man named Grey. They seemed to have a lot in common with one another, but neither seemed particularly close to or like Adlar at all. Yet both reacted like they fully understood what he was saying. Dalric was the only confused one.

  Adlar continued, “We are free, there is truth to this, great truth, but for many there is also a hollowness to it. We are trapped in the house built upon our prison, wrapped in the clothes of our slavers and aimlessly wandering their halls. We can not leave as our chains would be applied anew if we turned to the Dynasty’s borders and the great beasts of the Akai Ken separate us from the supposed civility of the Sailians. Our lives are listless.”

  It quickly dawned on Dalric what he had done. The irony was thick.

  “And just as the true depths of that listlessness began to reveal itself, you provided purpose. For a full sun, those I had seen with naught but darkness held in their eyes, saw light. Brief as it was, tiny as it was, it reinvigorated many. It reminded them that there is still more for them outside these walls.”

  Adlar seemed to have more to say but Grey, the smallest person in their gathering of four, stood and placed his hand on Dalric’s shoulder, “I did not get the cha—” He halted himself and took a breath, “I failed to do this when I should have. Thank you, truly. I know you’ve heard it so much you’re probably sick of it, but man… thank you.”

  Dalric nodded, “Name him Cirlad and I say we’d be even.”

  The man stared back at him like he took his baby name suggestion seriously so Dalric had to kick him behind the knee to let him know it was just a joke. Humans were rather inventive with their forms of communication.

  “I hear you. And I hear you, Adlar, but as I said before none owe me a debt. I’m glad I’ve had the impact that I’ve had and I will continue to do what I feel is best, but I am still just a passerby.”

  All three gave some sort of signal of acknowledgement, but he could tell none of them really meant it. They definitely were not hearing him, but they would probably argue he was doing the same. In any case, he wasn’t going to be around for much longer, so what did it really matter? He could be an idol for a few more days.

  With that, the end of the night officially arrived. Dalric bid them all farewell and headed to his room.

  On the way back he thought of stopping by at Ryku’s door, but decided to leave the man to rest. The fact he didn’t show up for even a second up top meant he had to have been overrun by whatever he was doing. Beyond a threshold, assigning him task after task was just servitude. Dalric wanted none of that.

  Alternatively to asking Ryku everything, he could actually just go searching for the information on where else Devil Glass is legal himself. Theoretically, it shouldn’t be too hard to find. That said, was he in the mood to do all the reading it would require? No. In truth, his body was rather loudly telling him it was ready and willing to give out on him so all the thoughts of what to do were rather presumptuous.

  Tomorrow then. What’s the docket?

  First, speak to—no. I should not set his schedule. He can come to me when he has the time. First, train. Selene could be sauntering behind me right this second. Against her and who knows how many of her colony, I am way too exposed. I have not felt that vulnerable in centuries. That has to change or there’s a chance I don't even survive long enough to leave.

  …

  What happens if I die again?

  He had briefly thought of it before and just like before he had no answer so he just threw it to the back of his mind and continued.

  So first thing in the morning is training. I’ll start with body training while my ahjer recovers as much as possible then switch.

  He was in his room now so he looked around at the space and visualled all the exercises and drills he wanted to perform. It didn’t look good. Even if he was a regular human size—that sent a weird twitch down his lower back—there simply wasn’t enough room to go through his regimen. Alterations popped in his mind for a moment, but he didn’t like any of them.

  Correction. First, find a space to train in.

  Late the next morning, Dalric was out in the sun going through his warm up stretches. There were actually a number of different training yards on both the first and second layer that he could have used. He’d decided that he wanted to be above ground though. For one, he preferred the ambiance of live nature to just cold dirt. Second, there were already plenty of others using the ones below ground. Third, and most important, this way he could be right next to the river. With how much ambient ahjer it held, it opened his options for training ever so slightly.

  His first order of business had been to use that very ahjer to build out and shape a bit of the earth adjacent to both the camp and river. It had been quite the hassle and took far more time than he planned, but eventually he managed to create his very own training grounds. It had all the basics; the tracks, the obstacles, the dummies, the weights. It was maybe a bit overkill, but he planned to work hard for the remaining time he had at the camp.

  Once he finished his basic stretches, he immediately moved to esoteric weightlifting. Instead of the usual affair, he picked up irregular shaped weights and maneuvered his body to lift them in even more irregular ways, often sliding parts of his body or finding himself in full extension. Strange as it seemed optically, going through the movements allowed him to target various muscles in his body that he simply wouldn’t be able to train effectively with standard weightlifting.

  Said muscles were often small and unnecessary to target specifically, but the purpose was not truly to grow them but rather to feel them. In many ways, esoteric weightlifting was just stretching with extra steps. It was still vital all the same.

  After roughly an hour of that, his body begged for mercy. He provided it. Not because he was giving in of course. It was because the small crowd that had begun to gather on top of the wall when first made the grounds had not only grown, it now produced visitors as well. Ryku was at their head, but the group consisted of eight others too. Dalric recognized six of the eight.

  He was too tired to stand so he received them while seated on the floor.

  “Dalric. Apol—Afternoon.”

  He’s getting there.

  “Afternoon. I see you’ve come with company.”

  “Yes. I’ll just get straight to it. We would like to train with you.”

  Gah

  Thanks for reading and see you in the next chapter!

  Discord