Chapter 17: Opportunistic Advantage Part 1

  Earlier the previous day, a scarred, pink, wrinkled, emotionally splintered creature sat on a river bank, cleaning some undersized robes. His antennae drooped with his expression, a scrunched grimace of pain. Forgive his haggard, haunted appearance and try to admire that he was doing anything at all. A creature in such a sorry state could be said to be pitied. He would not appreciate it.

  Lester’s experience in life was best summed up by advice his father had given him about dealing with the negative things in life. Giving in to the “gloomy goomies,” as his late father called them, didn’t improve things.

  Sure, one could be sad following some events, but moving forward accomplished more than dwelling for too long. Experience the bad emotions while you need to, then put your effort into improving things. When that crushing weight of pointless sad wants you to do nothing, even cleaning your burrow can be enough of a small start to get you moving again.

  He was cleaning his robes.

  Smashed bits of apple, juices from those cursed fruits, and debris from his forced flight to the closest water source had stained them badly.The blood from the battle added a gruesome redsauce turned brown to the pallete of nastiness. The final involuntary attempt at drowning himself in the muddy river near their home had not helped.

  The trek back to the site of the battle and what he had found there had pushed him close to giving up entirely. Seeing the mutilated bodies and pieces of one’s family scattered across the clearing had not been a healthy, positive experience.

  He took the hours needed to bury what was left of his kin at the scene of the battle he had been forced to flee. Returning to the riverbankof the pathetically small, weakly flowing river to get something started so he didn’t give in to despair was his next step.

  Sitting on the bank as he scrubbed his robes on a large rock, he let the water washing over the cloth drag a portion of the vortex of emotion away. Every drop of the stains hardened his resolve to do something about what had happened.

  Most of the goom had been killed. He had been unable to find any sign of Gomm or Choch, so there was some hope but not much of it. The heavy drag marks he had spotted leaving the clearing gave him some small hope of finding them alive.

  Capture wasn’t much better than death. The humans eventually tried that in every place he remembered living. Finding out what they had done to the goom they captured last time shook his small scarred body with rage.

  Lester’s contentment with survivial had served the family well enough, until it didn’t.

  More resolve at seeing the family prosper instead of just scrape by may have helped during the battle.

  As he scrubbed the robes, a violent epiphany of needed vengeance and destruction struck him as an appropriate response. Goals would help him move past this. He was doing something productive towards an achievable objective.

  Yes…Save mom and Gomm. Eradicate the threats. Punish the guilty. Escape this gods forsaken country after it burns.

  He paused in his scrubbing as he listed his goals to himself. It was important to visualize what you wanted to accomplish. Smaller, broken down, attainable goals.

  Destroying human civilization would be a tall order, but how bad could toppling one country be? Find Choch and Gomm, punish the guilty, escape.

  Three goals seemed enough, for now.. It was an easily managed amount, clearly outlined in detail, and, at the same time, not too elaborate.

  The first might make him feel better if he started indiscriminately stalking and killing all humans, but he would fall short when they retaliated by hunting him down. Short term satisfaction ending in failure.

  No, more information is needed.

  His mind settled he set to his immediete task by shaking his head to clear it and scrubbing more vigorously. Finish cleaning his robes, then information gathering. He had goals to accomplish.

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  Several hours later, Lester was balanced precariously and impatiently on a tree branch outside the human settlement. A scarred, hairless goom in worn battle robes that were still damp would have been a sight that caused too much excitement if he were spotted on the ground. Frustration at his current gambit, which was taking too much time, was wearing on him.

  It wasn’t his favorite way to get around, but the humans he was stalking through the forest’s edge rarely looked up, so it was sufficient for his purpose. He gently and smoothly slipped from branch to branch, following the small patrol of soldiers. The setting sun and slowly fading light helped his efforts to go unnoticed.

  The three men below him were talking as they performed their patrol, and Lester hoped this group would talk about something more valuable than the last four groups he had stalked for hours. He would have gone into the town proper, but there were too many eyes there for him to sneak around and eavesdrop on anyone important with his limited resources.

  He didn’t have enough to cover him for long in the town. Sadly, this was his best bet for finding out what had happened, and he hoped this patrol provided the information he needed. If he needed to, he could do selective surveillance of a few targets in town, but he didn’t want to risk discovery if he could avoid it.

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  Fortunately, these three seemed more interested in discussing recent events than the last few groups. Lester did his best to remain unobserved as he listened in. The tallest blond soldier was speaking with laughter evident behind his words,

  “So, we were running around after those little bastards all over the damn town. Some of them ran into Mistress Milligan’s shop, and the boys was chasing em’ out before they could start tearing up her work. One of the beasties got stuck in a dress, jumped out the window, and started running away.”

  “Well, me and the others wasn’t gonna be the ones explaining to that harridan how one of her dresses was ruined on account of stabbing the damn thing, so we sent Johansen after it.”

  “He ended up chasing it around the main fountain square. Lord Adder, his own self, joined the chase after a bit until Captain Lowry stepped in and ended the beast. Hahahaha! Poor Johansen, looked even more scared them two had to help him out.”

  The shortest black-haired soldier piped up,

  “This was just before the butcher shop battle, whadn’t it?”

  The third sandy-haired soldier stopped walking, removed his helmet, and held it over his heart,

  “Those poor sausages.”

  The other two also stopped and removed their headgear in respect for the ruined breakfast meats. Two sad little words flowed in respect from two of the men.

  “The sausages…”

  One of the soldiers added,

  “I prefer bacon, but still, that’s no way to treat breakfast.”

  The two defenders of sausage glared at the third aberrant heretic, and he fell silent. After a few moments of the now slightly awkward silence, they replaced the helmets and continued their patrol and conversation.

  The blond responded to the question,

  “Aye, after we cleared the varmints out of the butcher’s place, we spent the rest of the day chasing them out of the rest of the town. I think Corporal said the total count came upto over fifty of the buggers, not counting those others them adventurers took care of.”

  “Dinnit they capture some of the beasties? That sounds much harder than just stabbin’ em’.”

  Sandy Hair responded,

  In the nature of a sometimes convenient universe, it was a question Lester was keen to hear the answer to. Finally, he had been growing impatient. He contemplated murdering these idiots to increase the patrols and get better conversationalists out here in the woods.

  No,…the next ones might be more competent.

  “Das’ what Corporal said. Three of em, the big bad-gir, and two of the little white-furred ones who started this whole mess. Don’t know what they wanted with em, but taking em’ to the capitol gets em’ out of our hair, so doesn’t much matter, do it?”

  Blondy piped up with what he considered juicier gossip,

  “I don’t know about that or want to know, but did you hear what that knowet-all did to Lord Adder and our county? You have to have heard by this point.”

  Sandy replied with curiosity.

  “No, what?”

  In Lester's opinion, Blondy looked unusually pleased to share offending gossip, a rather odd look for such a well-built man.

  “He forced a conscription for the adventurer’s guild. They ship farmer Jenkins off in the mornin’, and I heard the lord volunteered that Milligan boy into it as well.”

  “The miller’s kids? Which ones? She has five. She might have a temper, but she seems eager enough in the bedroom with that many kids. Who knew a seamstress could be lusty?”

  Blond-haired Georgie’s mouth twisted at that, but he didn’t stop sharing the juicy gossip he had learned.

  “Shut up, Clyde. This is why the only woman who will give you any attention is Kitron. One kid. One. It was the youngest, that Robby boy who runs messages for some of the village.”

  Black-haired Berry chimed in,

  “Isn’t he a little young for that? He’s what? Nine?”

  Georgie shook his head,

  “He’s ten, and it’s not a bad thing for him to go. Lord Adder wants him trained up to be one of the county’s new luciloos.”

  Clyde whistled low and long,

  “That’s a cushy job for a fifth son. Wandering around the forest, eating whatever you like, never having to help with the harvest. Lucky little bastard.”

  Berry looked like he was getting ready to beat Clyde for jealousy of a ten-year-old. The Goom crouching in the branches above the trio didn’t know what the chubby black-haired man would do to the other, more physically fit Clyde. Lester thought the burly and dangerous-looking man was not a fortuitous match-up for the overweight Berry.

  Berry said scathingly and with little wisdom for his precarious existence,

  “How is he a bastard if he is the fifth son, you idiot? The first few might have been, but the Milligans have been married…what? Fifteen years now? Georgie, you would know.”

  Clyde looked annoyed at the insult but only threw a glare and, sadly, not punches.

  Disappointed Clyde didn’t beat Berry’s ass for the tone, Lester ignored the reply of the gossipy blond Georgie and slipped away through the branches quietly. The men were now bickering more than gossiping at Clyde for being antagonistic in his replies. The three soldiers noticed nothing as they continued their patrol.

  Human mating ritual times were not crucial to the information Lester needed. This whole exchange had been lucky, but he needed more detailed information on this Milligan family.

  A plan was forming in his little scarred head, but he didn’t have much time to carry it out. He needed more information to pull it off. This Robby could be his way to a position in the human hive where he could rescue his family.

  Lester checked his deep pocket and found a few golds left to fuel some of the spells he knew for concealment. His resources needed to be more robust to pull this off. He would need either a decent pile of gold or another source of rare materials to consume.

  Putting thoughts of the future aside. Lester moved to the edge of the woods, withdrew and ate a gold coin to provide the magic for his concealment spell, and pushed into the town to find the home of this Milligan family.

  The spell encouraged an observer to view him as a natural part of the scenery. Using it inside the house of Jenkins had been relatively cheap. He felt a sharp pang at briefly remembering Mina, but he pushed it aside.

  Casting his spell he moved silently away from the bickering humans. The less attention he drew to himself, the lower the maintenance of the spell would cost. The soldiers had mentioned a miller, so he headed toward the large mill on the outskirts with its attached home.

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