“See?” someone said. “He can’t kill us! He doesn’t have the grit! He’s got nothing!”
“Fool!” a familiar voice thundered. It belonged to a scowling woman who strode into the warehouse as if she owned it.
It was Greesha, and she was not happy.
“Any warrior worth his salt knows just how much easier it is to kill than incapacitate. Vaak here has spared your lives—not because he couldn’t kill you—but because he possesses such mastery over his might that he chose not to kill you. Do not mistake expertise for weakness, you useless chals!”
Greesha was right, of course. Vir was surprised to find her here, and even more surprised to see her sticking up for him. While he knew Greesha regarded him as crucial to the future of demonkind, their initial meeting hadn’t given him the impression that she was especially fond of him.
Vir nodded appreciatively at the seer, who backed away, yielding the room to him.
“You called me a coward,” Vir said, addressing the groaning rebels. “I braved the Ash. I fought the beasts of your nightmares, and I fought them by the hundreds. I am no coward. But you’re right. I’m scared.
“Not for you. For everyone else. For all the souls that will suffer the consequences of your actions.”
“What do you mean?” someone said.
“I decimated you in minutes. Had I wanted to kill you, I’d have taken half that time. And yet, the Chitran have dozens of warriors skilled enough to keep me occupied. Against them? You’d be fodder. Nothing more. Hardly even a warmup.”
“That’s not true… How can you know that?” someone said, but his defeated voice said it all.
“If, by some miracle, you get past the soldiers, how are you going to take the keep? How will you siege the castle walls? How will you breach the gate? You have no artillery. You have no magic. No leadership, and no organization.”
“If we can at least take down some of those Ash damned chals, it’ll have been worth it, no matter the outcome,” a rebel said, though the fire in his voice was gone.
“Yes, many will die,” Vir said. “But it will not be the Kothis. It’ll be you. It’ll be Janani. It’ll be the orphans. The Outcasts. The slum dwellers. It’ll be Gargans that pay the ultimate price. What’s more—you’d be giving the Chits the excuse they’ve always wanted. You’d give them the perfect reason to wipe out the rest of the Gargans in Samar Patag. They’ll retaliate against every man, woman, and child. All to set an example. So tell me, do you really want their blood on your hands?”
“Easy for you to say, hiding behind that mask,” a demon spat.
“You fault me for keeping my identity a secret when I’ve brought you your first victories in a decade?”
There was no response, which was fine. Vir intended to beat the hopelessness of their situation so thoroughly, they’d never dream of doing anything so rash ever again.
“Let’s say,” Vir continued, “that Adinat, Vera, and Badrak bless you with divine fortune, and that, against all odds, you somehow take the keep and liberate Samar Patag from the Chitran. The Kothi army at the Ash Boundary numbers over twenty thousand. What will you do when they inevitably march back to retake the city? How will you, with your ragtag band of civilians, defend this city?”
Vir locked eyes with each demon in the room. Each averted their gaze. “As I feared—you won’t. You’ll perish. Samar Patag will burn, and your legacy will be that of extremist zealots who doomed what was left of the Garga. You’ll be cursed by future generations as the fools who ended what the Chitran had begun.”
Vir let out a long breath. He hadn’t meant to get so animated, but he couldn’t help himself. The rebels’ selfishness was going to get everyone killed.
“Then what would you have us do?” Janani asked softly, tears in her eyes. “Would you have us give up?”
All eyes turned to Vir, who let the tension drain from his shoulders.
“No. No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. What I’ve done with Vaak—with this mask,” he said, pointing to his masked face, “was for the Garga. But this is not the way. If we truly wish for a better world, we must tread lightly. We must lay the foundation, and, only when we are ready, do we act.”
“Do you have a plan, then?” Janani asked.
“I do. The Gargan Warrior Callings. Are they all dead?” Vir asked.
Janani shook her head. “No. Many perished in the sacking of Samar Patag, but many more surrendered when it was obvious we would lose. They, like us, are Outcasts now.”
“But where did they go?” Vir asked. “The Chitrans wouldn’t have sent them away. They’d keep them under their thumb. Unless…”
Vir’s eyes widened in realization. Realization… and horror.
“The Ash Boundary.”
“That’s right,” one of the rebels said. “While you were off training in the Ash, our warriors have been forced to fend off the beasts that come through the Boundary each and every day.”
“It would ordinarily be the Chitran’s responsibility,” Janani said, “but they claim that due to the ‘injustices’ committed by the Garga throughout history, that it is only fair to push that burden onto our warriors. They are run dry, fighting every waking hour of each day without rest…”
Vir didn’t immediately reply. Any successful coup would need their support. But how to get it? The Boundary was far, and it’d be heavily fortified with Chitran.
To say nothing of the physical and mental state of the Gargans there. Organizing a coup in Samar Patag was one thing. Freeing the Gargans at the Boundary was quite another.
Though the plight of the Warrior Outcasts was a tragedy, it was not one Vir could solve right now. It’d have to be enough knowing they were alive.
“We can’t rely on their help,” Vir said. “Whatever we do, we have to do alone. From within.”
“Which is?”
“Hear me,” Vir said, raising his voice. “There will come a day when we strike. When we take back what is rightfully ours. When we rise against the Chitran and restore Garga to its former glory. But that day is not yet upon us.
“To prepare, we must train. We must organize. You are laborers. Merchants, farmers, traders. Most of you don’t even know how to hold a weapon. I will teach you the ways of the warrior. I will show you the basics, and from there, you must ply yourselves diligently. For the day you are called upon to act.”
“And until then?” another demon—a farmer wearing overalls—asked. “Are we to live as we are? In squalor and destitution? Are we to do nothing to better our situation?”
“No,” Vir replied, looking the demon in the eye. “As I said, I created Vaak for a reason.”
“You’ll protect us, then?”
Hopeful murmurs sounded through the room.
“I will do my part. But I won’t be around to save each one of you. Vaak will keep you safe.”
“What do you mean?”
“Vaak isn’t just me anymore,” Vir said. “It’s you. It’s Janani. It’s even Bolin. Vaak is a symbol. One that the Chitrans fear and respect. So long as Vaak’s identity is kept a mystery, it will keep you safe.”
“They’ll ransack the slums to find you!” a woman said.
“No,” Vir replied. “They won’t. They think Vaak is a Chitran Warrior Calling in disguise. Someone high up. Someone with connections. They don’t have the means and political connections to pry into my identity, and they can’t risk acting without knowing for sure. That is, unless Vaak does something stupid enough to force Governor Asuman’s hand.”
“You’re telling us to defend ourselves, but not to anger them? Sure, that might reduce the number of muggings, but that’s all! It won’t change an Ash damned thing about our situation!”
Murmurs of assent spread through the rebels.
“I know,” Vir said. “Which is why I intend to personally intervene. If there is anything I can do to improve our lives in the interim, I will. But I am new here. I need your help. Tell me, what are the biggest issues plaguing Gargans? What would help the most?”