47 An Audience Atop a Watchtower

Oh boy did his promotion come with a raise. Two whole silvers a month was enough to buy him a new blade of good quality after a year's work. He didn't have much to his name, but Jacob prized his armor, his weapon, and his lute. Normally, Jacob didn't have much of an occasion to play the instrument he lugged around with him. Quite frankly, it had to be blessed to have avoided being destroyed by now. It just wasn't in him to leave it behind.

After a night of drinking poor-quality ale with Rod and a few of their squadmates – James no longer called Jacob scum – he was excited to play a few tunes he had heard all the way back in Steelshade. The notes escaped him, so he substituted the blanks for those that he felt were right. Sitting on the roof of a watchtower, Jacob stared into the starry night, watching meteors shoot past. A patch of red glistened in one corner: the remnants of a Supernova. Of a giant star's death. It was a sight he never thought he would witness.

Perhaps there was dark in this world, but the actions of Rod and people like Adan Ericksson had really shown him that there were seeds of good here and there. It relieved him, and it incensed him. He'd bring Benjamin toppling down one day. As he thought that treasonous thought, the music cut out. His hands went immediately to his neck where his collar burned against him. He struggled not to scream, for worrying the man watching in the tower would end his stay; convincing the man to let him up was difficult enough.

Eventually, the pain subsided. Taking deep breaths, Jacob lost himself in the music once more. His fingers went where they were supposed to without any rational thinking on his end. The effect was glorious, like he was listening to someone else entirely. Jacob didn't know how long he was up there for, but it was cathartic. He was packing his lute into its case when he heard quiet applause. Swinging to find the person clapping, he found a woman wearing a flowing lavender dress. Her hair was jet black, a color darker than the night sky.

"You play well," she said, approaching. Her features became more distinguishable as she did so, her features and clothing marking her as a Yorunian.

"Thank you. I'm not entirely sure what happened myself," Jacob replied, smiling through the darkness. The Yorunians were to be here for another week or so to help the Fourth repair the damaged fortifications. They felt it a matter of honor; the goblins had made it past them, after all.

"Sometimes inspiration comes to us in unique ways. Are you the one they're calling the Reaper of Writha Pass?" Jacob choked on his saliva at her words. What were they calling him? Who'd he have to sue?

"I suppose I am, if you've come to find me. Other than the commander, I don't think there was anyone who killed quite as many as we did," Jacob replied, hoping that the melodramatic name would fade with time. "Better a Reaper than a servant, though," he mumbled under his breath.

"They say that you're a mage in the service of your king. Why is it that you wield a blade?" she asked, curious about Jacob's rather unorthodox methods. To be fair, most mages elected to rely solely on this magical power to turn the tide of a battle. Sure, they had some classical training to prevent them from being killed in close range, but it was nothing near the average soldier's training, much less than what Will and subsequently he himself had put him through.

"I'm a very weak mage, and so I have been forced to overcome that limitation in other ways," Jacob explained helpfully, though he was drawing a blank. "What did you say your name was?"

The woman's cheeks turned red at that. "I apologize, I must have forgotten. My name is Li Min, a mage attached to the High Western Regiment."

"Don't worry about it, Li Min. I've forgotten to tell my people my name all the time. It's a bad habit that I struggle to break," Jacob smiled at the flustered woman.

"I'm glad that we share that misfortune. Have you ever trained in Yoru? You fight like our blademages."

"Blademages?"

"They're a sect of highly private warrior mages. Their prowess on the battlefield is unrivaled by any close-combat mages or soldiers. Not even our Palace Guards are able to defeat them. Fortunately, unattached to our government as they are, they don't show up all that often. It's said that there are only two of them remaining," Li Min rambled, explaining everything as if it were a school test. Jacob appreciated the lengthy lecture, though. Any information about this world that he wasn't already privy to was something that he valued.

"No, I was trained west from here, near Steelshade," Jacob responded, somewhat wishing that he truly were the student of one of these reputed fighters. If he could have learned from one of them, maybe he wouldn't be in this terrible situation. The collar heated up, warning him.

"That's a shame. I was hoping you could lead me to them; I've been trying to find them since forever," Li Min said, sadness lacing her words. She stepped closer to the edge of the watchtower's roof, her hair flowing out behind her in the light breeze. Turning to him one final time, "Thank you for the talk. If you ever need to find me, look for the Li family in Yoru City."

Then, she jumped. Her form fell down towards the ground before she caught herself with a gust of air. The maneuver was graceful, a far cry from the brute force the low-ranking mages of the Fourth tended to utilize. An even farther cry from Jacob's own magic.

With a sigh, Jacob returned to packing his lute away. The next few days would be long; waiting out until the Fifth Infantry relieved them from duty prematurely due to their losses would not be so simple. Repairing the walls was in the agenda for every single day. Jacob groaned. How could the commander be such a cruel man?