Chapter 52 - Ashes and spoils (19 Jan 25)

The battlefield was quiet now, save for the crackling sound of burning kobold corpses. The acrid scent of charred scales hung low in the humid jungle air, mixing with blood and wet earth.Only the kobolds burned.Their own dead were wrapped carefully in cloaks and laid in ordered rows, covered where possible, watched over by surviving squadmates. The kobolds, though, were stripped for parts first — carefully and methodically. Darkvision potion ingredients were rare and would be needed; the glossy black eyes of the larger kobolds shimmered with potential. Scales were being cut from their corpses, especially from the bulkier variants — materials that could be repurposed for light armor or crafting projects.Harold crouched next to one of the bigger corpses — the kobold commander. His armor had been fitted better than most, stitched together from scavenged leather and reinforced bone. Beside him, the great lizard mount lay like a collapsed wall of muscle, its hide tough as old tire rubber.He ran a hand over its flank, muttering to Carter, "This thing alone's worth a dozen crafting recipes. Bones, hide, even the teeth." Harold picked up the staff the Commander used and placed it into his bag at his side.Carter nodded. "We've got the adventurers marking what to salvage. Won't be quick. What's the staff?"Harold stood and dusted his hands off. "Don't be quick. Be thorough; people died for all this. I want everything we can carry.""I'm not sure what the staff is; there were rumors last time about some of the items you could get from highly ranked enemies. I'm curious to see if they're true. If nothing else, I'm sure it can be used to infuse something. If we can ever get the Smiths trained on how to infuse what they make."Carter just raised an eyebrow but accepted the non-answer for what it was.He found the others gathering near what Tribune Tran called the command crate — Hale with his helmet tucked under one arm, Garrick limping slightly, and Vera just approaching from the edge of the field. She looked like she hadn't slept in days, but she moved as sharp as ever.Harold moved toward her immediately and offered a quick smile. "Hell of a throw."Vera grunted, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "Decided to take it when I saw he wasn't hiding behind those shielded kobolds. Glad it worked out."He raised an eyebrow. "Where'd you get the perk to throw a javelin like a damned ballista?""Speed Perk from one of the forest cats," she said. "Got it back at the Landing. But if I push mana through it and focus it—" she made a gesture like a flare through her arm, "—I can spike and focus the effect. It took me a while to get the timing right, though."Harold whistled low. "I didn't know you could feel and manipulate your perks that way... Huh. I always knew adventurers had a way to use mana, just never got how. That's actually a really interesting conceptually…."Hale slapped Harold on the back and looked at Vera. Don't get him started, or he will go down a rabbit hole about some technical potion stuff.She looked at Hale, surprised. "He does that often?"Harold "Nope."Hale "Yes"Harold just glowered at him.Behind them, Garrick added, "Mana users are mostly done. Everyone's spent. Burned through all the potions you made."Harold nodded. "Figured as much. Ingredients are low too."He looked over the field. Legionaries worked in slow, tired groups — pulling supplies from the kobolds, hauling bodies, wrapping wounds. What gear they didn't need was getting stacked for later appraisal. One of the wagons was already filled with bundled loot and sorted salvage."Make sure it's all recorded," Harold said. "We'll appraise it at Dalen's Hold."Carter gave a small nod. "You sure about heading there?""I am." Harold folded his arms. "I said it in the letter I sent. If we had to fall back after the battle, we might regroup there. Not safe, but safer than staying out here. Carter, do me a favor and check the forum for that post, please."Hale glanced toward the treeline. "And if they think we're limping?""They won't," Harold said. "Have the legion look sharp. I want them upright and in formation when we approach. We may be bruised, but I want them to wonder if we brought reinforcements."Sarah approached him as he turned, her gear still stained and half-torn, a smear of dried blood on her temple. Her face was pale with exhaustion, but her eyes were alight."You did better than I ever expected," Harold said, his voice softer now. "Hell, I'll be surprised if you didn't get a perk for being the first to touch that relic."Sarah offered a tired shrug. "I did, I haven't checked yet though.""You should," he said with a grin, then his tone grew more serious. "I won't get anything until it's back at the Landing."She just gave him a tired nod and a hug, then turned back to the team.Harold stepped toward one of the wagons, opened a reinforced crate, and placed the relic inside — carefully wrapped, sealed tight, and handed off to a detail of a full squad of legionaries. They saluted and stood guard, unspeaking."Twenty-four-seven," Harold said to the Optio. "This thing doesn't move without Centurion Carter or me signing off on it."The Optio saluted him, " Yes, My Lord, no one will be stealing this relic."Harold just looked at the man, trying to decide if he was jinxing them on purpose.Harold spent some time cataloging which ingredients he actually had and which potions he could make with them. It wasn't a lot; he could make 2, maybe 3 healing potions, but they wouldn't be very strong. The troll ingredients would work for some of the more powerful potions, like regrowing limbs, but he needed other ingredients for that.Vera came back not long after, slipping in from the perimeter. Her scarf was damp with sweat and blood."Still some scouts out there," she said. "Stragglers. We'll clean them up. Give us an hour."Harold nodded. "Good. And keep your eyes out for potion ingredients. We're dry. Anything fungal, mossy, glowing — bring it in.""Yes, sir," She turned and vanished again into the green.Eventually, the victorious legion left the spot of their most costly battle yet; it was easy to say we lost 40 legionaries. But it was different to leave their bodies in a grave in some unknown part of the jungle forest. Harold stayed for a moment as everyone left, looking out over the field. Eventually, Hale found him — still surrounded by his guards, with Carter standing silently beside him. The old Centurion caught Hale's eye and gave a short nod, motioning him forward before Harold could notice.Hale approached and found Harold staring dazedly out. The bodies of the kobolds were burning in distant piles — fire flickering low and red — while freshly filled graves marked the cost of the fight.Harold didn't look over at first. But when he did, Hale saw it in his eyes. The weight and the grief. The kind of pain that carved deep and stayed there. Harold had always been an emotional man — quick to laugh, easy to smile, quick to darken. Anger came fast, but so did forgiveness. But this…was different."It doesn't get any easier, Harold," Hale said quietly, his voice low and even. "Not if you want to keep your humanity."He stepped up beside him."All we can do is make the most of the time that's given to us. Do right by the people walking out of this clearing… and do right by the ones who didn't. The fact that it weighs on you — it speaks well of you. It should hurt."Harold turned, jaw tight, and pointed to a grave on the far right."That's where Max is buried. He helped with that potion ruse back in the marching camp." His voice cracked a little. "He's got a family back at the Landing. Wife and a six-year-old kid. They came through the portal with him; it was strange because he was the first soldier to bring a family through. I saw the arrow tear right through his throat."He pointed to two graves over."That's Optio Ingrid. She joined up to escape the orphanage she grew up in. She wouldn't eat the Tatanka we roasted... said it was the one she used to feed when she was in charge of kitchen duty. Wouldn't touch it…she was kind."A pause."I don't know any of the others' names, Hale." His voice lowered. "I feel like I should. But I'm glad I don't."Hale nodded slowly. "You don't need to know every name to honor their memory. You gave them purpose. A chance to fight for something more, and they know these fights mattered. That it was worth spending their lives for. The people understand what you are trying to build here, and they believe in it. With these times, people need something to believe in... that's you and what you are trying to build."Harold didn't answer right away. His eyes were still on the graves. Finally, he said, "I knew this was going to be hard. I don't know why I lucked out and got sent back like this."Hale clapped a hand on his shoulder — not as a soldier, but as a friend. "Come on, let's go see if this Dalen fellow has any coffee, or a good cup of tea."Harold looked at him uneasily. "You know this guy's "Hold" is going to be a mess, right?" He said with finger quotes.Hale didn't look at him, but Harold could see the smile. "I'm an optimistic man."Harold looked at him as he strolled away. "Optimistic? You?!"Hale just hid his smile and kept walking. Harold walked to catch up.The wagons rolled slowly at first, creaking under the weight of supplies and the wounded. Not everyone could ride — there simply wasn't room. Those who could still walk did. Some leaned on their comrades; some limped silently, their shields still strapped to their backs.The jungle pressed close again, the trail barely wide enough in places to fit the wagons. They were moving slow — too slow, maybe — but they were alive.