The Rifleman - Bk1 - Ch.34 (Patreon)

Chapter Thirty-Four

Settling Up.

Wesley seriously considered smashing his face into the wall a few times just to have a reason to rest. The healing tents had been doing a roaring trade for the last week, and there was no end in sight. 

Even when the worst of the injured were all healed up, there were always more of them coming along. The injuries of the battle had now given way to the injuries of the reconstruction. It was crazy how many people were apparently not at home with the idea of not leaning against the wall of a half-collapsed house or staying out of the dangerously leaning store. 

The stupider the injuries got, the less Wesley managed to hold onto his temper. Especially with the more frequent visitors to his tent. The Sara clone had just come in, leading a man he had healed four times in five days, who was complaining about his newly broken arm when Wesley finally hit the wall.

“What the fuck did you do this time?” Wesley growled at the man. “If you went after the contents of the tailor shop again, I’m going to break your other arm!”

“I was just checkin’ on it,” The thieving little bugger had broken into three shops so far, and every last one of them had fallen in on him. One of them twice.

“Was it the tailor shop again?” Wesley asked.

“Uh,” The man’s eyes darted from left to right, “No?”

“I warned you,” Wesley snapped and grabbed for the bastard, but he legged it. 

Wes chased after him, only to be brought up short by a pair of guards.

“Wesley Wolf’s Bane?” They asked, eyeing his filthy uniform and haggard appearance.

“I’m not a huge fan of that name, but yes,” Wesley frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“The Mayor would like to see you, but…” They exchanged a look.

“Can I have some time to clean up?” Wesley asked with a sigh.

“An excellent idea,” The men exchanged relieved looks. “Follow us.”

The guard’s barracks were not half bad, but he would have washed in a muddy puddle at that point. There was only so much he could do while working constantly, and what water they brought he used for washing his hands and arms. Had there been even a single spare uniform in his backpack, Wesley would have saved time and simply burned the one he was wearing.

Still, they claimed to have a genius of a cleaner, and he let them take his uniform away for cleaning while he showered. 

Normally, he wouldn’t have allowed anyone to walk off with any of his gear, but that uniform was pretty damn bad. 

At this point, he would be almost okay with having it stolen. Anyone desperate enough to put on those blood, mud, and ash-stained clothes was desperate enough to be welcome to them. 

The showers were a surprise, but he supposed it was simple enough to enchant a big tub of water. In any case, it was like heaven to stand under the hot running water and let the grime of days finally leave his body. Wesley was surprised at the amount, no wonder the squad hadn’t hung around for long whenever they had come by. 

Now that he thought of it… they had looked cleaner the last time they visited. 

Emerging from the showers, he dried off and ran a pulse of Emergency Heal through him to take some of the aches and pains away. It was a waste of the charge, but he was feeling entitled to a little bit of selfishness. 

It had turned out to be less of a long day and more of a long ass week and a half.

A half-hour later, Wes emerged from the guard’s barracks in a uniform that, if not clean, was damn close to it and feeling scrubbed from head to foot. 

“Hey, there,” Ben’Ta was waiting for him with a very welcome sight. A meat pie from the king of pie makers. “Brought you a snack.”

“See, now that is the kind of care and attention that makes you my favorite squaddie,” Wes grinned before tucking into the pie. He was ravenous now that he actually had a chance to clean up, but he still savored every bite as they headed toward City Hall.

“All it takes is a meat pie?” Ben’Ta laughed. “You’re a cheap date—my favorite type.”

“I really am,” Wesley grinned. “How’s everyone doing?”

“Well, the rewards are starting to come out,” Ben’Ta said with a sad smile. “So, everyone is in a good mood right now.”

“Except you?” Wesley asked. 

“Well, I’m buying out of the army,” Ben’Ta said awkwardly, “It was sad to say goodbye to everyone, but, well, I’m heading for another city to settle down.”

“Congratulations,” Wesley said, “Got someone waiting for you?”

“My friend,” Ben’Ta said with a happy grin. “She’s got a shop out there, and I plan to spend the rest of my time here selling pastries.”

“Now that sounds like a plan,” Wesley said honestly. “Is it far?”

“Yeah, but I’m going with a caravan, so it’s safe.” Ben’Ta stopped him as they reached the steps to the City Hall. “Thing is, it’s leaving in a couple of minutes.”

“Shit,” Wesley said honestly. “What city is it?”

“Uh, it’s called Majora on the outer hexes,” Ben’Ta said, looking around. “Looks like your escort is getting impatient. Stay safe, will you?” She darted forward and hugged him before stepping back. “If you’re ever out that way… come by the shop.”

“Count on it,” Wesley smiled. “Oh, and try to crack this pie recipe, will you?”

Ben’Ta laughed and waved before hurrying off into the crowd. 

“This way,” The older guard gestured into the door as if he might have been confused. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Wes muttered as he watched Ben’Ta until she was out of sight.

It was nice to have his first real friend in this world. 

Wesley knew somebody in a place called Majora. Hell, he was practically a native!

/////////////////

“Let’s get the basics out of the way first, shall we?” Mayor Earnshaw said as he shuffled some things around on the desk. “First, the Delver’s Guild pay,” He tossed a pouch to Wes. “It’s twenty gold. A pittance, but that’s guild rate.”

“Thanks,” Wesley said. Considering it was double the amount he had to his name in this world, it looked a lot less pittance-like to him than to Earnshaw. 

“Now, I know that you will be expecting a lot, considering your assistance, but we pay death compensation to the families of the fallen, and we have a lot of them,” Earnshaw said seriously. “And, if you like, I will certainly arrange that.”

“There's no need for the hard sell, Mayor,” Wesley smiled. “I’m not after a fortune here, and I would certainly hope the fallen get something.”

“Ah, you’re that type of adventurer,” Earnshaw smiled.

“What kind?” Wesley asked.

“An honest one. There are always a few of you around.” The Mayor leaned over his desk again. “I had a feeling, still, best to be sure.”

“So?” Wesley asked. “Are we done, or?” 

“Straight to the point, of course,” Earnshaw nodded. “Well, we can’t do much, but we have done something.” He handed over a bundle of paper. “A letter of commendation to the Delver’s Guild, as well as a letter of thanks for your service, as well as the title of Corporal.”

“Corporal?” Wesley asked.

“It will apply at your next Tier up,” Earnshaw noted, “A small effect, but a useful one.”

Wesley was about to explain that he had no idea what the man was talking about but remembered Malia’s warning just in time. The whole thing with the Wyrd Watchmen happened the last time he ignored it.

“Thank you,” Wesley said simply.

“As a personal thanks,” Earnshaw pushed a small wooden box across the table. 

Box of Holding - Small

Current Contents: 

None

Space remaining: 6 cubic feet.

“Personal thanks?” Wesley asked. 

“You could have signed up with the other side, as certain others did,” Earnshaw replied. “And your squad was instrumental in holding certain areas.”

“Thanks,” Wesley took the box gratefully. “I really needed one of these.”

“Excellent,” Earnshaw nodded. “One final thing before you go: how did your officer perform, in your opinion?”

“Great,” Wesley answered honestly. “He’s the kind of officer soldiers hope for, I think. Always willing to go the extra mile, you know?” One of his uncle’s favorite sayings back on Earth had been that the only thing worse than a wrong decision was no decision. Having seen the young officer’s quick choices in leading the survivors through the city, Wesley had to agree. 

“Glad to hear it,” Earnshaw nodded. 

“Who was he, anyway?” Wesley asked as he grabbed his rewards and headed for the door. “I’d like to say thanks before I head out.”

“I’m afraid my son is already on his way to a neighboring city to recruit some settlers,” Earnshaw said absently. “I’ll pass on your thanks when he returns.”

/////////////////

So that was that. Wesley walked out of the City Hall and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do next. He had considered staying in the city for about a minute, but the simple fact was that there were terrible memories everywhere he looked. 

The fact the place still looked like a glorified battlefield didn’t exactly help matters, but even if it didn’t, Wesley wanted to leave this place behind him. His brief, seven-day experience with war was more than enough to confirm to Wesley that whatever he was, he wasn’t a soldier.

He wandered around for a bit, eventually finding the way back to his squad’s tent, where he found Peterson and Split gathering their belongings. 

“Hey, all,” Wesley said with a smile as he went over and grabbed his backpack, putting his new items inside. “How’s it going?”

“We’re just heading out,” Peterson said solemnly. “They gave me a house over by the edge of the town, so we are moving in there.”

“Nice,” Wesley smiled. “Where’s Mental and Ben?”

“Mental is drinking himself unconscious,” Peterson said with a frown, “Which he’ll probably be doing for a while. Ben headed off to see his people a couple of days ago. I don’t expect he will be back for a while.”

“Did you get your rewards?” Split asked.

“Yup,” Wesley smiled. “I got an actual storage box.”

“Heading out?” Peterson asked. 

“That’s the plan,” Wesley admitted. “It was great getting to know you guys, but…” He trailed off.

“Yeah,” Peterson nodded. “I know.”

“You come to visit us when the city’s repaired,” Split said with a smile. “I can actually, like, stand you, which is rare for me.”

“Will do,” Wesley said with a smile. “You both going back to the Guards?”

“Yeah,” Peterson said with a grin. “We have to get the squad back up to strength and train up a bunch of the new recruits we are supposed to get. It’ll keep us busy for a while.”

“Split’s training people?” Wesley asked with a grin.

“Sure is,” Peterson said.

“She’ll kill ‘em all,” Wesley laughed.

“Fuck off,” Split glared, but she was smiling as well.

“Now, does anyone know if the Guild Outpost is still standing?” Wes asked as he hoisted his gear.

No one did, but Wesley decided it was worth checking out anyway. Winding his way out of the city, he marveled at the busy people who moved to and fro, rebuilding the city from the ground up in many cases. 

People laughed and joked as they worked, basking in the relief of survival, but it wouldn’t last forever. Already, there were a couple of people who were simply standing and staring at one destroyed house or another, remembering the people who lived there. People they would never see again. 

It made him walk a little faster, trying to stay a few steps ahead of his own memories.

“Take care out there, Wolf’s Bane!” One of the guards on the barely standing gate waved to him as he left. 

Wes waved back, joining the trickle of people heading out of the city to see if what they had outside the walls had survived. 

Most of them were walking alone. It was a stark contrast to when he had first arrived, a veritable flood of people all waiting to get into the city and the little safety it ended up providing. 

His mood plummeted when he saw one of the people he had escorted to the city. They had been a family of four. Now, the mother was all that was left. Her shoes scraped the ground as she walked, blank-faced back down the road that should have led her home but would now only lead to a place filled with loss and the ghosts of lost happiness. 

That was the final straw for Wes, who converted to Were-wisp and left the road, heading out over open ground.

Hours later, he stopped and set up the safe room, sealing the door with five shields before tossing down his backpack and relaxing at long last.

For the first time in days, he felt safe.

Tiering up!

“Shit!” Wesley swore, only now remembering the conversation on the wall.

This was really going to hurt.