ALL NOVEL Chapter-157 Kyrons’ Platoon
“Now, now, let’s be civil.” Another Asheva with a scarred neck spoke. “We already have enough enemies to fight, we don’t need to fight each other.”
“I gathered you guys for a solution,” Kiev said, leaning on the table with both his hands as its legs dented the carpet under his weight. “If you aren’t comfortable gathering and dealing with the corpses, please offer some alternative.”
“Have the Kyrons do it,” an Asheva said, his hands crossed at his chest and his eyes closed.
“They’re not doing it, that’s why we’re here, you dimwit,” another Asheva countered.
“Force them to do it then,” the previous Asheva said.
“And who’s going to do that?”
“Why don’t you use your guards? They listen to your orders, right?” Trask asked Kiev.
“If they deal with the corpses, then who’s going to patrol the premises and command the Kyrons’ squads?” another Asheva quipped. “I won't lead them.”
They all squabbled and bickered, but no solution came out of it. Ewan leaned back on his chair, and closed his eyes, enjoying the rare peaceful afternoon. Their clamor buried the sound of Flamecrest, but he could still make out the cicada’s call and the wind’s melody and savor them in waves.
“Please be quiet!” Kiev said in a loud voice, and the tent hushed down after a breath. “We won't get anywhere if we keep arguing like this. Let’s think of a solution together.”
“What about food?” someone asked. “Wasn’t there a shortage? Shouldn’t we deal with that first?”
“Rice and wheat are in shortage, they burned some granaries last time,” a native Asheva said. “But spices should still be in stock.”
“What will you do with just spices? Drink them with water?”
“We still have a good supply of meat and fish; spices go well with that.”
“The bonfires at night are really guzzling the meat though, someone should curb that,” a foreign Asheva said.
“Let them be, that’s the only thing they look forward to these days,” another foreign Asheva said. “And we can get our needs from the hub, it won't affect us even if we run out here.”
“What about the raids?” someone asked. “Aren’t we going to do anything about it? They’re planning something, we all know it.”
“The Step-1 lords are dealing with that issue, we don’t need to dwell on it,” Kiev said. “Our job is to remove the risk of plague right now.”
“Buy some slaves and have them do it,” the young foreign Asheva from before said. “The slave traders’ business is down because of the raids, the heat and the food shortage aren’t helping them either, we might get them at a steep discount.”
Kiev scowled at the man while Ewan snickered. The idea was simple enough that most could think of it, yet no one said it till now. As the debate heated up though, they touched the topic, and the dam broke.
“Kiev, we get your issue with it, but this seems to be the only feasible solution,” someone said.
“I agree,” someone else added. “It’s not much of a sacrifice on your part, you just have to put up with something you dislike. If you want, we can even contribute Creliths or Novas for the payment.”
“Same, I’m willing to contribute,” another Asheva said.
“Count me in,” Ewan said, raising his hand.
With that, the whole tent finally agreed on a solution, even the native Ashevas kept quiet and acquiesced; albeit it had Kiev gritting his teeth. Just when all the Ashevas decided on a couple of notable slave traders though, and just when they chose a representative to handle the purchase, the lukewarm situation that persisted for a week boiled over and exploded, and the change finally happened.
They’d all voiced out their suspicions of the raids, they all smelled the deception, but no one predicted the sudden episode.
Platoons and platoons of blonde-armored soldiers flooded the streets. They unsheathed their swords in sync, their eyes gleamed inside their helmets, and their matched steps quaked the earth. They crushed the pebbles beneath their sabatons, powdered dust fell from the concrete buildings wherever they marched, and the people of Drarith gave way, some cheering them on the side.
They snaked the streets, passed the plaza, joined other platoons, and pounced on the enemies resting beyond the frontline with a heart-shaking war cry. By the time the Ashevas rushed out of the tent to check the situation, the raiders had fled in distress, leaving behind heaps and piles of maimed bodies.
Ewan gaped at the new army that appeared out of nowhere, and he wasn’t alone. Even Kiev looked dumbfounded and could only gawk at the change. The waves of Anima and the spirit fluctuations designated these golden-armored soldiers as Ashevas. But Ewan recognized many of them, even through the ‘T’ cutouts in their helmets. They were Kyrons a week ago. He even healed and helped several of them and brought them back from the brink of death. Yet here they stood before him, emanating waves of power that could touch his peak.
They used no spell, they deployed no Astylinds; a swing of their swords cleaved a squad of Kyrons, and they fought other Ashevas on equal grounds. They battled without any regard for defense, and their savage attacks crushed the enemy ranks.
“Who are they?” someone from the Ashevas’ group asked.
“What are they?” someone else asked.
One word came to Ewan’s mind and Rain’s sentence echoed with it. ‘If you continue to meddle in Drarith’s business, you’ll meet them soon enough.’
Pathfinders.
“May the Lord of Smiles shine his light upon us all!!!” Their weapons dripped with viscous blood and their armors carried their enemies’ flesh as the soldiers raised their swords and roared
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