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What Will Be | Book 2 | Chapter 7
🕑 Added 2025-02-03 16:00:00 +0000 UTCAuthor's Note: Thank you all for your continued support. It means the world to me.
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When we returned to the main building, I was once again reminded that referring to the place as ‘a fort’ was largely a misrepresentation. The entrance was grand, dominated by a large central staircase and lined with doors leading to all manner of manor rooms from dining halls to sitting chambers, the former of which even boasted a chandelier. When we first passed through, I’d been told to leave my pack and was pleased to note it had since been relocated, presumably to whichever room I’d been assigned.
Fudge remained outside, content to keep exploring the grounds. Mira reassured me that it would not be an issue and I had no reason to doubt her word on the matter. She began leading me upstairs when I thought to ask a question that’d been playing at the edge of my mind,
“How many people here are Slayers?” Apart from Mira and Engel, everyone else I’d met numbered among the ancillary staff.
“As of right now? Three.” Her eyes flicked towards me. “Plus one inquisitive recruit.” She smiled, then, and it carried a touch of anticipatory amusement; we both knew I was about to reinforce the description.
I rolled my eyes.
“Is it wrong to be inquisitive? Let me rephrase: How many Slayers are in Squad Nine?”
“Just because something is not wrong does not always mean it is free of consequence,” Mira recited, briefly adopting a lilt that was not quite her own. “There are seven total; four of us are currently out on assignment.”
We reached the top off the stairs where thick rugs adorned the stone floors. Earlier, one of the cleaners, a bubbly woman named Wynn, had made sure to reiterate that I need not concern myself over any mess I may or may not make. If anything, she encouraged me to try and leave a room filthier than I found it; a Skill thing, presumably.
Despite Wynn’s encouragement, I’d grown increasingly conscious of the muck clinging to my boots as we traversed the manor. Travel had left its mark, and I was now smearing it all through an otherwise pristine building. Sensibilities died hard, and something about intentionally dirtying the place rubbed me the wrong way.
I would adapt eventually, I knew. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“Seven is less than I was expecting,” I replied diplomatically, having decidedly shelved my thoughts on cleanliness until further notice. “How many Squads are there?”
“Not enough,” Mira said, sounding exasperated. That time, I knew it was directed at the issue as opposed to me. “That is not a concern for new recruits, however.”
“But-”
“Nope. Not happening.” Mira stopped in front of a nondescript door after cutting me off. “Besides, we are here.” She knocked once before swinging the door inwards, not waiting for a response after announcing her presence.
“Cruz, the kid is- By The System, man, can you not?!” Mira disappeared into the room in the wake of her outburst. After a beat, I took a few hesitant steps in after her. The room was spacious, as most of them were, a large bed standing with its head against one of the walls. Perched on its end, with a bare foot resting on the elevated mattress, was a wiry haired man picking at one of his toes. The now-audible clicking of toenail against fingernail a cursed metronome set to the beat of my growing discomfort.
“Well excuse-the-fuck-me for what I do in the privacy of my room,” the man, presumably Cruz, snapped back, a touch of twang to his voice. While used sparingly in Elbura, I had overheard my new world’s equivalent of the f-bomb some time ago. There was something about a universal, multi-functional swear word that I just found endearing.
Despite my own displeasure at watching Cruz delve for whatever horrors lurked beneath his toenails, I could not help but reluctantly concede his point. That was, of course, until Mira gave her retort.
“If it was just in the privacy of your own room we would not have an issue with it.” Cruz’s response was to shrug, and I got the impression it was not the first time his habits had been the source of dispute.
“You are more than welcome to sod off. In fact, I encourage it,” he eventually said.
“Fat chance. You are in charge of mentoring the new recruit, so get to mentoring.” Mira gestured in my direction, but Cruz didn’t look up from his business.
“I still object to this,” he noted, sounding petulant.
“And I am going to tell you exactly what Engel told you: Tough shit.”
“Need I remind you that you thought it was a stupid idea, too?” In watching the pair, a suspicion of mine born from Lionel’s antics gained a touch more certainty. Slayers - the several I’d encountered, at least - had a rather blasé attitude towards their internal command structures.
Mira crossed her arms.
“Need I remind you that you still have to do it anyway?”
Cruz snorted, the air sounding like it had to pass through a mile of phlegm on its journey to the outside world. He moved his foot back to the floor and stood.
“You do not. Well, go ahead and introduce the creepy-ass-wonder-child. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I get back to work.”
Mira’s expression tightened in distaste.
“Will, this is Slayer Cruz. Cruz, this is-”
“Slayer Recruit Will - I read the reports.” He turned my way. “I would say good to meet you, but you are officially the newest pain in my arse so you will forgive the lack of enthusiasm.” A dry, natural sarcasm continued to underpin his every word. He stepped forward and extended a recently utilized hand for me to shake.
I just stared at it. Fingers twitched at my side as I tried to figure out how to best respond.
Dude…
“Wash your cursed hands, Cruz,” Mira snapped, coming to my rescue.
“Almost forgot other folks shit flowers.” Instead of washing his hands in the nearby basin of clean water, Cruz just wiped his hand over his shirt a few times before sending it my way again.
Whatever. I’ve almost certainly survived worse.
I returned the shake and moved washing my own hands to the top of my priorities list.
“I am going to go now. I feel like breaking something.” Without waiting for permission or a goodbye, Mira simply turned and left, leaving me alone with the man who would apparently be my primary mentor in the years to come.
I swear, he better be some kind of savant.
Cruz plunked back onto the edge of his bed but, blessedly, did not immediately return to his earlier excavation of all things toe.
“Alright, let us not fuck around,” he said. “In case you struggle with subtlety, let me be clear: I am not pleased by this arrangement.”
Well, fuck you too, then.
“Oh really? Here I thought ‘creepy-ass-wonder-child’ was a compliment.”
Without his hands otherwise occupied, Cruz evidently had a tendency to gesticulate. It wasn’t as overt as what my mother would do, but I noted it all the same.
“See, that is exactly the shit I am talking about - kids are not supposed to talk that way.”
“Would you prefer I-”
“Shut up? Yes. Just listen. After we are done here, find someone to show you where they stored your shit and take the day.” A beat. “Okay, we are done here.” He gestured to the door.
“Seriously? No explanation of how this is all going to work or-”
“Nope. Again, shut up. Here is the deal - I am going to do a bad job so they think twice before saddling me with this shit in the future.” Again, Cruz gestured towards the door to dismiss me.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Through the Tamer Bond, I felt Fudge note my rapidly rising frustration as it brushed against the edges of anger. If not for that sensation, it is likely I would have snapped and said something I’d come to regret.
Thanks buddy, I thought towards Fudge before taking a breath to calm myself.
“Understood,” I said flatly. Without looking back, I spun and left the room before my frustration had time to reassert itself. The hallway seemed notably longer as I returned back the way I’d come, lingering annoyance still sufficient to tunnel my vision.
Throwing a tantrum wouldn’t have solved anything, I told myself. I ran the conversation back through my mind, searching for some shred of salvage in the sinking ship that was my hope for a decent mentor.
He said he’d do a bad job, not that he wouldn’t do it at all. An important distinction, hopefully. Cruz was vocal about not wanting to mentor, but his exchange with Mira seemed to indicate that he had to. I could work with that. Maybe.
I started wandering the halls, confident that I’d bump into someone eventually.
When viewed through that lens, telling me to take the rest of the day to rest after travelling was a way for Cruz to get rid of me that could survive scrutiny. In a different context, one might even argue it was responsible - thoughtful, even.
Perseverance stirred in response to my planning. There was a line Cruz had to tread. I just needed to find it.
