Chương 22: The Cooking Pot

"Sorry about that," I replied. Scar reeked of alcohol, and I didn't need to make someone like that angry. I just stepped off to the side. There were more important battles than between us Dupes—even Dupes like Scar. He shook his head, and he and his posse marched up to the cooking pot. I hung back and watched, waiting for the others to get their bowls. Scar marched to the front of the line, cutting in front of Ticks, but Ticks let him go begrudgingly.

When Scar reached the pot, he tousled his hand through Hild's apprentice's hair. The girl couldn't have been any older than twenty, and Scar was probably ten years her senior, so at first I took it as a gentle gesture. Maybe like a father. But she shifted away from him, retreating closer to Hild, and I grimaced.

"Ah, come 'ere, lass," Scar said.

"I don't bite…unless you make me." I rolled my eyes. What kind of pickup line was that? But Hild kept quiet, and no one else said anything. Scar snatched his bowl with a grin, then marched over to a toppled log and sat nearby.

"Hey, Hild, I think she's been standing long enough!" Scar said, and a few of the other Dupes with him laughed. I winced, noting Scar's sergeant pauldron. He patted the log beside him and said, "Come on, let her take a seat!" No one said anything, not even Hild or her apprentice. Ticks just grabbed his bowl of soup and kept going. While Ticks walked over, Scar started flicking food at the back of Hild's head.

"God, you couldn't make a nastier man if you tried…" I muttered.

"Don't even think about it, Levi," Romance said.

"Does he have a soul?" I asked. Shave grimaced.

"Even those with a soul can still turn out to be terrible men, no matter how much we hate it."

"Let's just get back to our tent," Elf muttered. I sighed, about to take a step along with them, but Scar reached out and grabbed the apprentice's arm, trying to drag her back. Hild slapped him on the wrist with a soup ladle, but that didn't break his grip. He was a Dupe, after all. My grimace turned to a scowl.

"It's not worth it, Levi," Romance insisted.

"Come on, they'll figure it out, or they won't."

"What's the punishment for men like Scar?" I whispered.

"Lashes. If they get reported and caught," Shave replied.

"Which no one will bother with. There's far more discipline up north. Galliard is…soft." He was picking his words carefully.

"He thinks it'll make us serve him better."

"Well, his softness is going to get someone hurt." Scar dragged the apprentice down onto his lap.

"Ah, now that's a good—""Enough," I said, stepping back into the flickering firelight. I pressed my spear into Romance's hands. Since Scar and the others weren't carrying their weapons, it wasn't a huge risk, and I didn't want to escalate too much.

"What's that, Atoning?" one of Scar's men asked.

"Say it a little louder, boy, so we can hear you!"

"I said, enough!" I tightened my fists.

"And who are you to stop a sergeant?" Scar laughed.

"There are rules here, sergeant or not," I said.

"I may be an Atoning, but I've heard the decorum lectures. Let her go."

"And if I refuse?" Romance and Elf stepped forward, begrudgingly following me, and Shave was close behind them.

"Then I'll make you let her go," I said, trying to inject as much confidence into my voice as I could. Rules only existed if you had the violence to enforce them, and I'd be damned if I was just going to let this go. It just wasn't right.

"Big talk for a little Copper. You're bluffing." I gulped, then lunged forward, snatching onto Scar's arm, as if to make the threat more real. He threw me off and made a fist, but then the apprentice slammed her head back into his scarred over eye. He released her instinctively, and she raced back to Hild. Leaving me to stare down Scar's posse on my own. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

They were all Irons, as far as I was aware, and they had no weapons on them. But they were certainly stronger than me. At least I had my armour on still, and they didn't. When Scar threw a punch, I was ready. I saw it coming from miles away, and I ducked back, letting his fist brush past my nose guard, before countering with my own. I hadn't trained much hand-to-hand with Shave, but I knew enough to not break my knuckles when I retaliated, hitting Scar in the chest.

His gambeson might have been padded, but it didn't do much against my fist, and it sent the drunk Dupe staggering back a few steps. I glanced side to side. One of Scar's men tried to tackle me, but Romance darted in, grabbing the Dupe's forearms and wrestling him to the ground. After that, all hell broke loose, and I devoted my Focus to keeping myself out of harm's way—and dishing out a little harm of my own. Elf rushed in beside me, attacking a different man. I ducked away from punches and kicks.

My fist caught another Dupe in the nose, and the impact took as much skin off my knuckles as it did his. But at least his nose gave a satisfying crunch. Whenever I could, I tried to lend a hand to my squadmates. Ticks was sitting it out, but Shave had joined in. He was trying to pull Romance away from another man, but then someone attacked him from behind, and he joined in the scuffle as well.

One of Scar's Dupes splashed Elf with a mug of watered-down rum, and he moved to smash the mug over Elf's head, but I darted in and kicked the man's shins. As the man staggered back, I couldn't stop myself from laughing a little. Sure, my knuckles hurt, but I needed to blow off some steam. My first instinct was to aim for the man's chest, but instead, I went for his cheek and punched him in the jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Even if he had been a tier higher than me, he was still only an Iron, and no amount of Vitality enhancements would change that. As I turned, ready to face the next threat, a horn sounded. The clatter of mugs and metal stopped, the shouts slowly quieted. Commander Galliard marched into the clearing from one side, flanked by Lieutenant Finger—who had blown the horn.

"What is the meaning of this?" Commander Galliard shouted.

"Break it up!" Everyone went silent. A few gazes drifted to me, a few landed on Scar. I swallowed.

"You lot." Commander Galliard motioned to me and my squad, then to Scar and his squad.

"To my tent. Now." ~ ~ ~ I ended up waiting for a lot longer than I was expecting. I sat in the mud outside the tent, nursing my knuckles and wiping my cracked lip with a rag. The others in my squad stood around behind me, all in some level of annoyance or disgruntledness. Probably at me. I glanced up at the others and finally whispered, "We went into the Labyrinth to rescue the prisoners, right? Because it was the right thing to do, because they needed our help." Shave sighed. Ticks shook his head.

Of all of them, Ticks made out the best from the scuffle. He hadn't even had to punch anyone.

"Well…how can we let our own men be just as bad as orcs?"

"Not 'just as bad'," said Elf.

"Not even close."

"Well, Scar was certainly trying," I muttered.

"Levi," Shave said, "Dupes and men have souls, which gives us a choice. Orcs simply cannot choose. Call the orcs a tragedy, call them already dead, call them a force of nature. It doesn't matter. We are not the same as them."

"Well then, all the more reason for us to show how different we are." I leaned my head back and groaned.

"Just because we can choose between right and wrong, between good and evil, doesn't excuse evil."

"What would you know of evil?" Ticks whispered.

"You fought the orcs three or four times, and now you're an expert?" I hung my head.

"I know we can't let our own men harass our cooks. I know that, Ticks. And you all know it's wrong to stand by and let Scar get away with everything. How can you guys just accept that?" The other four stared at me.

"Bad things happen sometimes, Levi," Elf replied. I pressed my hands against my thighs.

"But if we have the power to stop it? Even if it's uncomfortable, or inconvenient to us?" Before anyone else could say anything, the tent flap opened up, and the last man from Scar's squad ducked out, walking like a whipped puppy. Galliard and Finger leaned out the flap and faced us.

"Come in. All five of you." Wincing, I stepped forward. I was the first inside, but the others weren't far behind. Galliard's tent was set up startlingly like an office, with a desk along one side and armour and weapons behind it like trophies and ornaments. A hammock had been strung up between a pair of tentpoles, and there were a few empty barrels, which supported a stack of manuscripts. Galliard sat on a stool behind the desk, and Finger stood beside it, leaning on the edge with an exhausted expression.

Everything about this place reminded me of the dean's office and my last night on Earth. This better not go the same way.

"What happened?" Galliard asked. We all gave our account of the night's events, and Galliard shook his head, then reached for an inkwell. He began scrawling a note on a sheet of parchment, then stopped and tapped the quill on the edge of the inkwell.

"This report will stay within the camp. There's no need for Sir Aldhelm to hear about this. Your account lines up with Hild's account, and she has spoken in your favour. I'm inclined to agree with her. For fighting, your squad's punishment is to wake up early and carry water to the camp for the next week."

"It's my fault," I insisted.

"Double my punishment if you need. I don't mind. But don't punish the rest of my squad. They were just backing me up." Galliard and Finger both chuckled. Finally, Galliard said, "Us brothers don't fight amongst ourselves. Anyone participating in a brawl will be punished."

"So Scar will be punished, I take it?" Galliard scowled.

"Watch your tone. But yes, we doled out similar punishments to him and his squad, too."

"For the record, Ticks didn't participate," I added.

"Don't take it out on him. I won't have him punished when the truth is that he didn't fight alongside us." Galliard let out a resigned sigh, then made a new mark on his sheet of parchment.

"Very well. Now, you lot are dismissed. Rest up, and I expect you lugging heavy buckets tomorrow morning. Except, of course, Ticks." Ticks bowed his head, once to Galliard, then again to me. At least it didn't go anywhere nearly as badly as my visit with the dean. It wasn't the worst punishment, and I had to look on the bright side. Hauling water gave me an opportunity to improve my attributes.