88 Chapter Eighty-Eight - Survivors (1/2)

Grey washed across the land. Sighs and gasps sounded from everyone around as they watched the world disappear about them.

There were exactly fifty-seven of them left alive.

Those closest to the Loot Stash, a Disk I made that held the valuables salvaged from the fighting, surrounded it quickly, before the waves of unmaking could hit it. They literally fell in around it, claiming their spoils and making sure they weren't lost in the Renewal.

A new day blew past like a cold wind, and then cleared away.

Lieutenant Markov and the others who survived slowly removed their helms and looked around.

Their wounds were gone, cleansed away by the turning of the day. They were ready and fit to fight, despite just having gone through a great and bloody all-day battle. The sudden transition from bloody combat to total serenity was jarring, to say the least.

”Line up to greet your brothers,” I said aloud, and they fell in together. Lieutenant Markov stood next to the Disk full of loot, the others in a line behind them. The clinking of armor and the sound of marching men spread through the fading mist, and then our company came out of the fog in random clusters, blinking and looking at us all there assembled.

There were over two thousand of them now, the clearing was now basically a mustering field. I had advanced my Warlord Mastery to /5, ranking me at 15. My personal command could thus reach fifteen squared, times ten, soldiers of my own command who could benefit from my Warlord bonus.

Twenty-two hundred and fifty soldiers, in total. With attendant logistical support, in a real, not Dream, world.

Twenty-twoish hundred men lined up before fifty-seven, who all stood straight and proud at attention before them.

-They made it to the end.-

The whole group of soldiers moaned almost as one. They hadn't died! They Had Not Died! They were all shaking, trembling at the feat.

It wasn't just me standing there to greet them as they came out of the mists, came out of death, back to fight again.

It was their own!

They could beat this! They could win!

Private Gorski, who was the impetuous type, let out a bull roar and charged forward, grabbing up the Lieutenant, dancing around with him. In no time, the whole host of men had poured forward, and the first fifty-seven survivors were being hoisted on shoulders, and a general party would have started immediately if there was any booze to be found.

Tremble and I led them in a Salute to the Silver Queen, for my Renewal was at midnight, even if the light around us was kind of hazy pre-Dawn. We immediately followed with a Salute to the Morning, since the Curse would not give us time to have a proper one when the 'day' actually started.

But they were here. They were ALL here, now, all Marked… and the day had not yet begun.

-I, and the survivors, need two hours of rest,- I /said calmly, as I went over to the stack of loot. My army gathered around, watching with fervent eyes.

I had told them, and they knew. They knew that people surviving would change everything, because survivors could keep the loot.

The loot would accelerate the gaining of magical equipment, because they, the army, could then use it to Invest their gear, instead of just one person, me, doing it all.

I had hard limits I couldn't pass. To do this right required people.

Needed Survivors.

The Disk piled high with magical weapons, armor, gold jewelry and adornments, glittering power comps, even coins and jewels that could be stripped, was a ramshackle mess of stuff, but the fact was, the stuff was there.

It was the first time they'd been able to look upon the plunder of their foes after they died. The plunder they had earned, through so many deaths, so much fighting, watching their friends and eventually themselves dying over and over again.

It was all there. Feet shuffled and eyes stared intensely at the haul.

I went over to Forge. Piled on top of it were thin layers of metal, dropped and cast, polished and detail, virtually identical to one another. Made from armor and weapons plundered from the enemies we killed, melted down, and cast into Investing Patterns.

There were twenty of them. Enough to invest forty goldweight worth of swag a day, more if we let men do that while we were fighting. Twenty suits of armor that I had reworked to ensure they were Master's Craft and could hold at least a basic +I Enhancement.

-Three of you on every Pattern. You will swap each person out every two hours, faster if someone falters.- I picked out my trios mentally, they flowed together in a line and lifted away the Patterns reverently, one by one.

We could spare the equivalent of eight hours, and then the day had to start, the fighting begin again.