act37side

<p=1>Ten Pints Pub</><p=2>December 21st, 1098, 5:05 P.M.</>

Good job, Madam Speaker, I say!

Rip up every tile in Londinium and root out the devil scum hiding under them! *cough* *cough*...

I hear there's gonna be a big shipment of Oripathy meds coming in.

I got a friend at the procurement office. Maybe he can get me some meds first, and I'll see if I can get some for you, hah... cheers— *hic* —

You were strutting all day when you got into the duke's army... and then you went to the Exemplars, and now here you are after the end of the war, just like me.

Two Infected with nothing left—

Who are you calling Infected?!

I can fight! I'm not like you! I'm not afraid to die... *vomit*—

The other patrons look up at the staggering soldier.

A coin flies across his face and lands on the bar counter. A haggard figure grabs him by the shoulder.

He's drunk. Take him home. I've got the bill.

Don't mind what they said, madam.

He's just telling the truth, Lieutenant.

I'm retired too. But suit yourself.

Sure. As for your question... it doesn't matter if I was talking to the one whose name's on the warrant, or Reunion, or anybody else.

The workers want to do something for our home. I can't just stand by and watch everything get worse.

Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. That's how things have always been for us.

Just friendly advice. I've seen what medicine from dubious sources can do. I watched a soldier collapse into his drink a couple of days ago.

I'd performed emergency surgery on him during the war.

That time, he survived. But this time... it was the last checkup he ever got.

You're a kind soul.

The apothecary in my neighborhood says he can't remember how many came to him for poison during the war.

I don't remember everyone I've ever treated, of course.

I've seen much worse in my time as field medic, but at least I get to see those who walk out the field hospital again.

Spend enough time drinking here, and you begin to recognize the faces in the crowd that you've seen before, even if it was only once.

I know some doctors, the Rhodes Islanders. Maybe you need their help.

You forget that I'm a physician myself... what do you think of the Exemplars?

It's asking a lot, getting an old burdenbeast to remember something that long ago.

It's ancient history, even to me. All I remember is that decades ago, when kids would brag about this and that, they wouldn't be tossing around the names of dukes, it was the Exemplars.

There were lots of heroes. Lots of them lost.

No, what I mean is—

I know what you wanted to hear, but I don't have anything else for you. Sorry.

Most people in the new 'Exemplars' aren't soldiers. You can't compare them to the old ones.

We didn't start celebrating here in the city when the dukes defeated the Sarkaz, that's the end of it.

The walls were on fire, and unarmed Londiniers trapped inside with the Sarkaz.

Nobody knew if the dukes would spend the next two months talking before they entered the city. Nobody knew what would become of us.

It was the Exemplars who came. No one can take away what you did, not in Londinium, at least.

Catherine pauses. She notices the officer's hand trembling in the dim light of the tavern.

He reaches into his pouch, trying to find something, but finally sighs and takes a big swig from his mug.

These days, the only contribution most of us make is to the business of the city's drinking establishments.

Thankfully, the kindly owner here doesn't throw out loitering drunkards.

After all, most of those who fought tooth and nail to get back home no longer have homes at all.

To hard-won victory.

Shearer raises his mug, but Catherine does not do the same.

I'm afraid you found the wrong drinking partner. I have an appointment to keep, and I intend to be sober for it.

You're drunk, medic. Leave the alcohol to your later days.

I've heard the rumors about the Exemplars. Why don't you talk to the Speaker directly?

Catherine gets up, goes around the other patrons, nods at the owner behind the counter, and disappears behind a door in the corner obscured by boxes.

...What makes you think I haven't?

He looks in the direction where Catherine went. It leads to a forgotten corner of the city.

The Defense Force patrols went in many times, but never found anything.

None of my business.

He waves the proprietor over for another drink.

Lieutenant Shearer sent two messages. I asked the Messenger and both came from this underground pub.

But Delphine said she made arrangements for all the surviving soldiers of Duke Windermere's ship.

Are you sure we don't want to check out the street that Delphine talked about first?

No. Let's go in.

<i>I followed behind Vina and let her open the door, because I was still used to kicking them in.</i>

<i>The Glasgow Gang never, ever, caused trouble in Auchterigg Borough.</i>

<i>Vina said we were just getting a drink with some old Exemplar friends, but I knew there was a lot on her mind.</i>

<i>She had made arrangements to stop some factories and ration the refined Originium reserves for the winter.</i>

<i>But the word 'Exemplars' was always there at the bottom of her memo—our old friends.</i>

Deal. You're gonna answer my questions frankly and truthfully, right?

As long as you beat me at arm wrestling.

Brr—

Piece of cake.

Hmph, I figured my injury wouldn't be a problem...

I know what you want to ask.

'Will she disband the Exemplars?'

Honestly, I don't know. The stuff she's thinking about has been getting more and more complicated, and I've given up trying to figure it out.

My guess is no. She even came to see us in the clothes that she wore when we fought together. If that's not sending a message, I don't know what it is.

Didn't she say she just didn't want to draw too much attention?

That's what's in all the books! You wouldn't get it.

What you see here is no exception.

Many Exemplars are suffering from their lingering war wounds.

With medicine in short supply, alcohol represents one of the few sources of comfort available to them.

While some are here for information, most are here all day and night because they simply have nowhere else to go.

Is this why you wrote to me? To stand up for them?

No... I see you have not read my letter.

I'm sorry, there's been so much going on—

You used to be more straight and forthcoming, Madam Speaker.

If you think the Exemplars are calling for you to pay more attention to veterans' welfare, I can tell you that you're wrong.

They're waiting for your next order.

Everyone I've talked to for the past two months believes that Siege has grown since becoming Speaker, that she's getting even better as a leader.

And the question they ask the most is—where do we go next?

Are you telling me to continue to send them to bleed and die, instead of trying to make life better for them?

You never truly saw yourself as their leader. You saw them as equals, as comrades in arms. I respect you for that, but it's also where you have failed in your responsibilities.

Forgive my frankness, but for many of them, what's left of their lives will never know a greater happiness than the taste of victory they enjoyed as the Exemplars.

He grabs his mug and tries to take a swig.

But it slips from his hands and falls to the ground.

The others look towards Shearer, whose eyes are red as he takes deep breaths, trying to keep himself under control.

He takes out a coin, puts it on the table, and raises his hand at the proprietor without looking at him. On his part, the proprietor simply goes about cleaning up the mess without batting an eyelid.

One more of the same, please.

Where were we, Madam Speaker?

<i>I never got along well with Lieutenant Shearer. For a long time, Vina's fist knocking him dizzy had cemented my impression of him.</i>

<i>A field medic. Stubborn, but largely calm and dependable.</i>

<i>His surgeon's hands brought many back from the brink of death.</i>

You... why—

Lingering effect of an injury.