The Mook Maker

There was no point in rushing now, I realised. 

 

While there were possibly a million different queries I could ask, there were very few answers I would realistically receive, some of which may help our enemies more than they would help us. 

 

I was so bad at this. 

 

With the intention to rethink my steps, I took my seat by the campfire, mentally berating myself for my previous rash decision to forego the steady path to victory. Mistakes were made, and I wasn’t certain I could live up to expectations to lead my furry menagerie. 

 

Miwah and, strangely enough, Narita, kept close, their warmth bringing calmness among all the chaos. 

 

Despite the number of my girls actively stationed in the ring around the fortress, there was still movement among the shifting sea of green where the ‘Corruptors’ reigned, bringing their unique touch to the land even after everything had been converted. 

 

The view of the camp was an outlandish one, showing the pure chaos in all shades of verdant green and other colours in the floral form, and I knew that the village to the south would suffer a similar fate with a few hundred of my cute little reptilians running around. 

 

Perhaps I should assign an impromptu governess for all their work, instead of having Mai micromanaging the madness, but I decided against it, for now. 

 

I wasn’t fully certain how the division of the leadership roles worked if ‘Alphas’ had control over their particular breeds. 

 

Helmy, being technically commander of the siege, had to wrangle to keep the encirclement of the fortress, apparently succeeding, but there was no answer from the humans, and no white flags or any other sign of calling for truce were reported.

 

While my horde had the nearby area firmly in their hands - or claws rather - the humans were still determined to sit this through. It suited me at the moment, as I was about to figure out whether I could or could not deal with humans in general aside from the gathering presided by our single herald.

 

The information I would be able to gain was invaluable. 

 

As eager as I was to finally be able to find any answers about this world, and my precarious situation, I managed to rein in the tendency to rush for the easiest and most obvious resolution.

 

There was no point in having that scribe dragged in immediately after I arrived back at our home base, so I took my time to consider my options in interrogations where I, presumably, knew the enemy’s language. It wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed at first. 

 

I wouldn’t know what I would, or should, ask - while I could ask about the war, trying to pry away the military secrets, I soon realised there was largely no point in doing so. 

 

The scribe wouldn’t know where the armies were, how many of those ‘elite’ warriors were there in the field, or how many ‘casters’ there would be in the military, and wouldn’t be able to guide us to their location.  

 

If natives were in any way similar to the ancient kingdoms and empires in Eastern Asia back on Earth, they might be keeping meticulous records and thus were likely aware of how many soldiers they had - especially those with magical powers. 

 

The chance that the person we captured had any recollection of the records, just worked with them, was almost non-existent. Even sitting on an actual archive, assuming we could read the local script, guaranteed nothing - actually finding the targets would still be a job for our own scouts. There were no maps, no navigation, I didn’t even have a compass. 

 

My ‘Displacers’ kittens, or even Sora alone, were likely better scouts and cartographers through sheer instinct than anything the locals could offer, barring the magical methods or a literal divine intervention I didn’t know about. 

 

Admittedly, whatever this world has, it had real, functional magic, but questioning the true nature of it would be a question for their magicians, or priests. My prisoner would know nothing of it. If he did have any powers, he would use them against us already. 

 

The problem was that it ultimately meant he wouldn’t know why I was there either, unless they were somehow involved in our arrival, which once again seemed to be a question for their spellcasters - and they were notoriously uncooperative. 

 

With this, excitement faded. 

 

Finding people more amiable to our cause, and unbothered by our forms, would likely involve retracing Ari’s steps, not the scribe’s, which merely added new things to our to-do list.

 

Then it was a question of authority. Perhaps it would be pointless to make demands for anything except the release of my little ones still held by the spell, leaving me with almost nothing to ask, except for delivering a message. 

 

I couldn’t risk Ari dying to the random archer, so the scribe would have to go, which seemed awfully similar to what I’d, unsuccessfully, done before. 

 

So in the end it was once again about improvising and reacting, as I would normally do, or maybe even a proof of concept that would work the way I initially thought, testing the communication facilitated by the ‘Fleshspeakers’ and the way the associated skill’s name suggested. 

 

My girls needed some time to prepare for that. 

 

Although for most, it would merely mean cleaning the armour for ‘Alphas’ or finding outfits they liked by quite literally pillaging the southernmost village we had just taken, the ‘Fleshspeakers’ guided by their ‘Alpha’ had a much more difficult task - figuring out the language itself. 

 

For Arke, there would be different challenges as there were things I wanted to check.

 

The puppets, affected by the magic even if not actively controlled, could be forced to speak the language of the natives even if the bat handling them wasn’t versed in it, and possibly shouldn’t be, but whether it was a comprehensible message or a word salad remained a question. 

 

On the other hand, Arke understood the words only by probing the mind of Ari, our native translator, which shouldn’t be different from collecting information from the unfortunate puppet they forced to do their bidding. 

 

But could they really do that? Or was it just dumb luck, or an unlikely genetic lottery, that made Ari a perfect intermediary, or maybe there were other forces at play? 

 

How would I communicate if I didn’t find the strange crazy girl? 

 

I didn’t know what precisely the screeching sound my bat girls had done to the body of the unfortunate victims, but I’ve seen the effect, and it was enough to leave the human catatonic, vulnerable to other stages of attack delivered through their claws. 

 

On the surface level, it seemed to work in this order.

 

What was left of the human mind after the psionic onslaught and the flesh-shaping powers was uncertain, but the few human puppets stumbling out of the rifts convinced me the final stage was likely permanent. 

 

Transit through a ‘Displacer’ portal was deadly for… the unauthorised, I would say. There wasn’t any need to test whether an ordinary animal would survive the spatial rift, mostly since my girls had seen the native lifeforms as either enemies or food. 

 

Whatever survived the journey was either a product of the strange selective immunity or not to be considered a human anymore.

 

Who was I, even?

 

I decided to not mull over it, any trail of thoughts leading to the question of identity was not to be followed. 

 

It still made me shiver. 

 

The few ‘Fleshspeaker’ victims they chose for this experiment were relatively untouched by the process, though the empty gaze combined with the shallow breathing showed there was very little personality left behind, only the barest bodily functions. 

 

They shambled around, devoid of agency, while Arke carried herself in an almost regal manner, her body now clothed in the short toga of sorts. 

 

Tama arrived with Sora’s help, the vixen was very visibly satisfied with the new dress, somehow.

 

She made sure I looked at her, so after a short peck on the snout to my Narita and Miwah I simply stood up to meet them just in time as the ‘Displacers’ began to bring in the rest of the heavy hitters no longer required in the southern areas. I would have to think of a new way to call the largest village under our tenuous control.  

 

“Tama…” I said, my sentence unfinished. 

 

“Do you like this outfit more, Master?” She asked, turning around to show it. The new dress, mostly white matching the vixen’s silvery fur, with red and black highlights hid Tama’s multiple tails under the wide skirt, and the wide sleeves invited caught on fire considering how the wearer’s magic worked. 

 

“Very conservative. I suppose it's representative too.” I answered, unsure what to say. The dress was very likely stolen, so I refrained from asking how she obtained her outfit, and what happened to the original owner.

 

“Oh, Master! It is not for special moments with you.” Tama retorted with a flirty tone in her voice, as always, as she took the position at my side grabbing my arm, very likely intending to play the damsel while Miwah and Narita got their cleaned armour on.

 

Sparing a brief glance and the nod to Kuma, along with her ‘Ravagers’ emerging from the portals. They brought the chest with documents and even that magical stave I forgot about. 

 

The staff of the office, or perhaps one for the sorceress, gave a foreboding feel with its magic, and ‘Ravagers’ were creative enough to handle it with blacksmith’s pliers - but dealing with the enchanted item was for later. 

 

I returned my attention to my bat monsters, or at least their single representative who didn’t deem the presence of her little sisters necessary.

 

“Do you think you would be able to talk without Ari being here?” I asked Arke, and as she adjusted her wings I suddenly was glad I wasn’t required to comment on her attire. 

 

While she did wear the simple piece of cloth for the sake of maintaining decency, and not to weigh herself down in flight, it was pieces of someone’s skin and bone that held it in place, forming a creepy bodice..

 

“I should, Master” Arke said, confidently, and noticing my gaze she even spread her wings almost as if she wanted to show off noticing my stare. The organic pieces of her outfit moved on their own, adjusting, the clearly still alive organism twisted by the ‘Fleshspeaker’ powers. 

 

Arke didn’t comment on it, instead had her mind on the task, considering something briefly. It could be too much, I realised. Learning language was a complex task, and I couldn’t assume they could just rip it out of someone’s brain. 

 

“I don’t understand the language syntax, Master, but I can understand the meaning behind the words by referencing the understanding of the human we control,” Arke replied confidently as if she felt my doubts, gesturing with her wing towards one of the enthralled humans mechanically barking words in the local language as some form of the twisted choir. 

 

“I see, I see,” I replied automatically and considered whether the standing order about not creating more zombies wasn’t simply circumvented by fusing someone’s skin into the cloth to create a living outfit.

 

I wasn’t certain whether the fact that she could do it was more distressing than the fact it was one of the first ideas that passed her mind after leaving her an hour or so alone.

 

Focus, I told myself, living clothes are the issue for later. Arke folded her wings in a comfortable position. 

 

“Do you think the style would suit me better, Master?” Tama chirped in, her muzzle gently touching my neck in the teasing gesture, adding to the discomfort. Not from the closeness, it was more than welcomed, but from the realising the potential horrifying applications of the ‘Fleshspeaker’ powers. 

 

Yet I found no strength to reprimand either of them and something treacherous back in my mind suggested it was the humans’ fault my beautiful monster girls did terrible things to them as payback for their hostility. 

 

The line of thought made me feel ashamed and shook my head almost as if I wanted to shake the uncomfortable feelings attached to it. No one pressed it either. 

 

“We will try how well you can translate without Ari, and if it won’t work, we will bring her in.” I decided to push everything else back into my mind for the time being.

 

“Kuma, once we are prepared, bring the scribe in for interrogation.” I ordered, bringing my attention to the ‘Ravagers’ - they had considerably more acceptable ways to craft conventional armour, and Kuma even brought only the best equipped of them. 

 

“Yes, Master.” The ursine girl answered, her sisters immediately setting off to gather the prisoner from the remote hut converted to the makeshift prison, while the rest of my inner circle gathered around as some form of council. 

 

The council, or advisory group, was at least my idea of combating the leadership inadequacy on my part.

 

Helmy, marshalling the little ones to contain the fortress, and Brave overseeing the border mining town, were absent, but the rest were to show up, even if it wasn’t strictly necessary for this situation. 

 

Even Mai was included, brought in by a proactive ‘Displacer’, albeit a little bit sleepy probably from overextending her power by creating the floral madness that was now the good portion of our territory. The little ‘Defiler’ that was assigned as Mai’s assistant did show too. 

 

The rest, however, took to themselves to be as imposing as possible, and while it wasn’t entirely my intent to put on a show for the hapless prisoner, they understood, either through instinct or through our shared link, that we needed to put a better image for the people we would release to carry our messages.

 

Maybe we could give them a show they would have context for, but still, I was opposed to the idea of having a throne to sit on, so I simply stood there, my arms folded on my chest. 

 

I was no king, after all, and found a little need in pretending to be one. 

 

Tama and Miwah took a position on my right and left side respectively. 

 

The scribe brought before us seemingly did read the situation quite well and performed a deep bow supposedly as a sign of respect. 

 

Entirely ignorant of the local etiquette, I wasn’t quite certain who was supposed to speak first. The old scribe immediately dispelled the dilemma on the matter by spouting a lot of fast, confusing lines in his native language, and I guessed his behaviour would be annoying even to his own countrymen.  

 

I, of course, didn’t understand any of it, and with his head down there was no option to even read his facial expression. 

 

Suddenly, I had the sinking feeling that this wasn’t going to work.

 

It confused even Arke for a short moment, though she was able to regain her bearing quite quickly, and silenced him with the choir of voices from the four puppets, and after a long consideration which felt like an eternity she said: 

 

“He says…” The uncertainty was notable within my chiropteran monster girl’s voice, hesitating as she translated: “...he would do anything for access to the scrolls of Po… Pou…I don’t know what it means, Master. The villagers never heard it before, it is not a local name.” 

 

I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. 

 

“Ask him for the name?” 

 

The chorus of creepy human puppets translated the sentence to a random collection of words in the native tongue I didn’t understand, and the captive replied. Then the puppets reacted, then the man, making me briefly doubt we were able to comprehend anything. 

 

Another pause - I mentally imagined it as furiously looking for the correct expression in some paperback dictionary, and soon I had even more respect for my ‘mind’ bats. They might be psychic, but they didn’t have instant proficiency. 

 

“His name is, I think, San Hyun-Ki. The Sage. The advisor to the Viceroy’s court.” Arke said, slowly, a bit more confidently. 

 

This was a relatively complex answer, and very specific in content, which made proper conversation suddenly seem within grasp 

 

It was strange that she understood this and wasn’t able to understand the other words, but the fact she could, in fact, translate, was a huge success, even greater than the magical immunity and comprehension we had with Ari despite the fact it took unbearingly long. 

 

This time, it was me who stayed silent. I couldn’t conceivably predict what I would be asked for, and worse, I only half-trusted it would work this way. Our past experiences suggested this would be another mistake in the long line of failed, half-baked attempts to settle things diplomatically. 

 

Yet, it worked and did so almost miraculously well, considering the circumstances. 

 

“He still begs for the scroll access,” Arke added, and I gestured there was no point in keeping the man’s head down. The words were said, hopefully, understood, and I had a chance to look into the face of Sage.

 

He was an old man, with typical Asian features, almost non-descript among the other humans I’d looked at. His hair greying from age, and his skin showed more wrinkles, tired, but somehow still with a vital mind. 

 

Unlike others, filled with hatred or fear, he has an expression of a man ready to pay the price. 

 

“So, San? Hyun-Ki? San Hyun-Ki?” I said, hesitantly, “Do you know the ruin on the cliff, with the carved stone slab?” 

 

Translation, and the answer, followed, the comprehension noticeably visible on the scribe’s, or rather Sage’s, face. That ruin, that stone slab, where it all started. It meant something, and it did so within the context of this mystical scroll. 

 

“It is…” Arke said, “I don’t know. Ruins of the … villa, perhaps? It is the word again, Master.” 

 

Ruins I remembered, mostly the clearing dominated by a single, large, carved stone, didn’t resemble a villa at all, but it was possible the forest consumed most of the rubble a long time ago, or that an earthquake buried the buildings. The mere thought of the cliff made me nauseous.

 

I considered bringing in Ari, for an explanation of the strange expression but opted against it. It could be a technical term, or something esoteric, neither the enthralled villagers nor Ari would know, but it was, apparently, something extremely critical for the relatively high-standing clerk. Sage, as he himself put it. 

 

“Ruins consumed by the forest, located atop of the cliff, with the carved stone slab,” I explained. 

 

A chorus translated, and the Sage nodded and replied in acknowledgement. It felt almost eerie.  

 

The word I couldn’t pinpoint was there. It sounded like “Oscar”, but I didn’t find it funny at all

 

“I sent my people to the ruin and searched the forest. We did not find the scroll. We searched the shrine on the road, followed to the abandoned quarry, and the village in the mountains, but there is no scroll.” Deciding to improvise, I explained. 

 

It took a while to have that transliterated. Arke, very obviously, struggled with it, almost like she had mentally flipped pages of the entire dictionary for each and every word uttered, yet she, or rather zombified villagers, was able to say something. 

 

I didn’t understand the Sage’s response, of course, but I continued, seeing that my explanation got his undivided attention, and almost seemed like it was a course of conversation he expected. 

 

“We took the village south from there too, and one to the north, and found no scroll.” I continued and secretly wished I had something to show as a method of identification, but I couldn’t come up with anything. 

 

I even gestured towards the chest, its content once again scattering from the overturned container when the helpful ‘Ravager’ showed its content. I could almost catch Sage’s disappointment and certain comprehension, his eyes only scanning the surviving paper betrayed that ‘the Scroll’ was something of truly unique making. 

 

 It felt easier now, knowing that the random phrases actually meant something.

 

I don’t know what that scroll he was looking for was, but it must be distinctive looking, and either expensive or somehow critical in its importance. 

 

Did he expect us, did he expect anyone, to turn everything upside down to find it? 

 

Was it that important? 

 

Then, a brief flicker of inspiration: 

 

“The soldiers with this style of armour were in the ruins.” I said, pointing in the direction of Mia, Mai’s assistant ‘Defiler’ still outfitted with the slightly charred hauberk looted from the humans that attacked me on my arrival.

 

The old man recognized it, but his reply didn’t sound like anything to me, and I was forced to wait for the translation for endless seconds, minutes even, until the meaning of my words could be interpreted, understood, and replied to. 

 

“The Jin barbarians, Master.” Arke interjected, “I think they are called the Jin. He explains something about them, and the scroll, and the meaning...” 

 

I was still lost about the actual mechanic - it was confusing, and slow, and probably caused jitter in the whole communication, It was considerably an upgrade to pointing in the futile attempt to get even a basic expression - but we could communicate. 

 

“We killed five powerful elites. With the gold symbol on their chest. Lost more than a hundred of my people in the battle, but at least one got away.” I continued, not thinking whether some things should be kept secret. 

 

A more difficult concept to adapt took even longer with our current means of translation, but our story did impress our prisoner a little. He was fast in his response. 

 

I looked at Arke.

 

She wasn’t as quick with her comprehension, as her puppets fumbled with random words in a quick exchange with the Sage. 

 

“He says…” Arke hesitated, “I don’t know what the word is, Master. I think it means the elites, he knows they are powerful. But he says that if the Jin stole the scroll he would do anything to help to retrieve it.” 

 

I paused, nodding. Although it wasn’t quite my goal to shift the blame for the disappearance of some apparently important item to the other faction of natives, I wasn’t able to foresee the consequences of either way It accidentally revealed that the entire conflict may revolve around the mysterious parchment for some obscure reasons though.

 

It was only then that I realised that the equally cryptic system behind my monsters and the red fog spoke of it as well. I felt, guessed, mostly, that I should follow the lead. 

 

Although it wasn’t quite the direction of conversation that I expected originally, and the importance of some piece of paper was quite difficult to accept, this was a world where paranormal forces were demonstrably real. A magical grimoire wasn’t stretching the premise a single bit. 

 

Or perhaps it had cultural, or historical value, or was a deed to the gates of the kingdom.

 

Whatever ‘the scroll’ was, the way the Sage looked at me after that suggested that whatever this mysterious item was, it was worth fighting wars over it. 

 

“Who told you the scroll is here?” I asked. “We didn’t find it when we looked.” 

 

Although this wasn’t technically true, we didn’t know there was any valuable item in the play in the first place, let alone search for it, I had a gut feeling I had to be reactive in this. 

 

“Her Royal Highness, Master?” 

 

This answered nothing.  

 

“Royal?” I queried since the apparent title sounded as such, “Where is she?” 

 

The Sage didn’t hesitate in answering.

 

“He doesn’t know, Master, she was moved out of the fortress before the attack.” Arke helpfully translated and paused for a while as the man continued with the explanation.

 

“She lost it? They tried to get it… but the Viceroy’s soldiers were killed by …us, I think, Master.” Arke continued, her speech filled with pauses as she herself pieced the message together. 

 

“I think they were the soldiers that attacked Brave’s group, Master,” Miwah interjected, “They retreated.” 

 

“When?” I asked her, confused, briefly shifting the attention away from the prisoner. 

 

“It was before my sisters were sealed during the attempt to break in what is now Maiville’s granary, Master.” My werewolf explained, standing firmly by my side. 

 

So, it was the soldiers who called for the priestess, I deduced. 

 

“She ordered you to get the scroll for her?” I asked, realising I directed it toward the wrong person: “Arke, ask the prisoner!” 

 

The exchange continued. The Sage was suddenly uncharacteristically engaged in the conversation even if I didn’t quite get the meaning of it. Either he was an excellent actor and an even better liar, or he wanted to help us. 

 

Not exactly ‘us’ per se, but rather, cooperating with whoever was more beneficial for him in achieving his goals. That was my read on it.

 

The strange name came up again.  

 

“No, Master. The Viceroy sent the men … because he thought the scroll would be unguarded.” Arke shook her head after the next barrage of words from puppets and the prisoners alike, and it appeared like they were getting the gist of the topic quite quickly, moving into a direction I couldn’t have possibly predicted. 

 

“For the Royal?” 

 

The Sage didn’t seem quite certain about the motives, or entirely uninterested in them. The Royal - whoever she was - was supposedly concerned with the Evil Spirits summoned by the scroll rather than with the object itself. 

 

Was it us she was referring to? Was ‘Evil Spirits’ what the locals thought of us? 

 

Even so, they could have tried speaking with us - there were plenty of cases in history where diplomacy was carried out even if both sides were convinced their enemies were ‘evil’. 

 

I looked at Tama. 

 

“I am still considering eating their livers, Master.” The vixen suggested, playfully, albeit unhelpfully, almost as if she read my mind. I shook my head. 

 

I, on the other hand, now considered calling my girls ‘Spirits’ - it was much nicer than ‘monsters’, especially considering they were beautiful, as mythical ‘spirits’ ought to be - but I didn’t think of myself as Oberon or any other mythical fairy king. 

 

There were still a myriad of questions I needed answered while the decision on my true goals hung in the air. 

 

“Is that it?” I wondered, still not getting the full picture, and after a brief consideration I asked: 

 

“Why are you here?” I directed my query towards the captive human, “You weren’t with any soldiers when my foxies got you.” 

 

The Sage, of course, didn’t understand the word I was saying, but my chiropteran girl translated it for me soon after and the puzzled expression on the human’s face disappeared, and he dutifully replied something in his language. 

 

“He was sent there by the Viceroy to talk with the Great Dark One, Master.“ Arke said, 

 

“I think he means you, Master!” Tama chirped in. 

 

I nodded and with sudden inspiration, I gave the final, definite response:

 

“Then go and tell the Viceroy to let my little people go.” I declared, “Once those who are sealed are freed, we can end this pointless conflict once and for all.”  

 

When the chorus of the puppets finished pronouncing the decision, I was filled with a certain degree of hope. 

 

I looked up, to the sky, and thought that, perhaps tomorrow this entire conflict could end with an agreement I wanted for a long time if I just managed to play this card right. 

The Scroll, whatever it was, didn’t seem all that interesting to me, but the option that would give us a breathing space allowing us to sort out our long-term goals was more than welcomed. 

 

If only it reduced the constant cycle of violence, if not stopped it right, it was an option worth taking. 

 

“River the border, the scroll, the goal.”