Game Of Thrones Joffrey Baratheon Purple Days

The Forts followed an ancient tradition. Sometimes, officers in the Legions were acclaimed by the troops they led after moments of great personal skill, valor, worthy feats or just political necessity if the rank was high enough and the man in question had not been 'named' yet. The troops gave the officer an animal name, sometimes accompanied by a color or an adjective, but always something that connected to the officer in question. Sometimes the reason behind the name was obvious, sometimes it was a lot more subtle.

The soldiers that acclaimed Captain Xu, the Red Gorilla, had not been subtle at all.

"Scouts! Engage!" commanded the burly Captain.

Joffrey counted the seconds inside his head.

One…

The five Dawn Scouts swiftly nocked their broadpoint arrows, their motions minimal and deliberate, expending the bare minimum of time for every given motion. It was art almost, how every detail of their stance or motion was there because it absolutely had to, no less… or it wouldn't have been there at all.

Two…

They all raised their bows as they drew and aimed in one smooth movement.

Three…

They aimed for the last half of the third second, and let loose. They weren't firing in a volley, in fact the Dawn Scouts seemed to disdain them, though one wouldn't have noticed that by the way they fired at almost the same time.

All five arrows hit dead center on the wooden target's chest… on the other side of the courtyard.

I've dabbled a bit with archery… but this…

Joffrey shook his head for the umpteenth time. "I can't get the arrow out of the quiver in three seconds, much less hit a target--"

"Did you say have something to say you barbarian rat!?" bellowed Captain Xu as he walked right in front of Joffrey, bellowing at his face. "Did you intend on imparting some ancient wisdom on how to do our jobs?! Did you!?"

"Sir! No sir!" Joffrey shouted, eyes fixed and back straight.

He'd forgotten a bit how disciplined the Legions were, what with serving as a glorified Acolyte for the entire time he'd been there. That and Jin's easy demeanor had left Joffrey a bit unprepared for the strict disciplined standards the Legion demanded of its soldiers.

It was a kind of alien concept to Joffrey's mind. On Westeros such treatment would have had Nobles in open rebellion and the smallfolk falling face down on the floor from physical and mental exhaustion. The closest equivalent were the men-at-arms he guessed, but they were generally already veterans and as such didn't require such discipline

Not in the Five Forts though. As a standing army they drilled their soldiers to perfection… the intent was to grab green boys and turn them into professional, competent killers who would follow orders on the battlefield and not break and drop their pikes at the slightest mishap like a typical Westerosi Levy. The job usually fell on a Sunbeam, but Major Jin had asked Captain Xu to work his dubious talents himself, to speed up the process apparently. No matter who did it, the boys were well-fed but brutally trained from day to day, it was an incredible mechanism for turning said green boys into soldiers, a mechanism Joffrey gave thanks to the Old Gods that the Lords of Westeros had not heard of. The realm would have imploded much sooner with those armies pummeling the Kingdoms. He imagined waking up from the purple inside a sieged castle would have been a tiny bit inconvenient, and besides, such well drilled armies would have caused a lot more death and destruction in general…

Or would they? A crown army in the service of a centralized state—

"DID YOU HEAR ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING ABOUT WHAT I SAID YOU BARBARIAN MAGGOT?!" The burly Captain bellowed, showering Joffrey with spittle and a horrible smell.

"Sir, no sir! I was distracted sir!" Joffrey said, still staring forward.

"That's it! Give me-"

"Fifty Sir?" Asked Joffrey. Already on the ground.

He was nonplussed for a second before he got even redder. "A hundred, Foot Scout!" he said, but Joffrey was already pumping the familiar exercise he'd done a million times before, since before he scaled the Mountains of the Moon even.

Joffrey thought there might have been an error of communications somewhere along the way. As stern and disciplined as the Legions were, the Scouts, made of veteran members and used to a far harsher environment, were a lot more relaxed than the Garrison. Captain Xu however was used to receiving veterans, not a 'green' recruit like him… So he thought he had to break him before he was a usable asset. Worse, he thought that Joffrey's normally relaxed demeanor was a product of arrogance or spite, when in fact he was just enjoying being ordered about.

Being treated as just another man was an old delight for Joffrey, but he thought he'd never quite reached this level before… The Captain treated Joffrey like a bug, something barely human. He was trying to break him, to strip him of his arrogance, his entitlement and his preconceptions, to cleanse him so he could learn the ways of the Scouts and the necessary skills to survive out there in the wastes, to learn that whatever past he had did not make him special…

Joffrey approved the sentiment wholeheartedly… the problem was another one. No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't find a way to tell the Captain he'd already been broken. He had been stripped of his possessions, his arrogance, his pride, his self worth… everything, even his mind. He'd been so broken he suspected he must have spent half a century just waking up and staring at his room's ceiling in the Red Keep…

His mind was wide open to whatever the world threw at it, and he knew he was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to other, far worthier men and woman. Hells, and that was only other people! Even nothing was too big a word when he thought about his place in the Cosmos…

He was willing and able to do whatever the good captain demanded of him, willing to try and learn any skill (Being capable of learning it was an entirely different matter) and generally just enjoying the experience of hopefully being molded into one of the insanely competent Scouts that routinely arrived through the front gates.

He would have to hope the Captain realized that fact eventually. Of course, imagining a galore of Westerosi Nobles chained to the side, seeing the treatment of Royalty and generally slamming their heads into the grey brickstones at the indignity didn't help with that.

"WHATS SO FUNNY YOU FILTHY BARBARIAN?! YOU THINK GOING OUT THERE IS SOME KIND OF JOKE?!" bellowed Captain Xu after Joffrey completed the exercises and stood up.

"Sir! No Sir!" shouted Joffrey, struggling with all his will against an impending giggle.

Oh Gods… imagine their faces at this…

He addressed my Joffrey as a filthy barbarian!? I'll have his head on a pike over Maegor's Holdfast! Shrieked a ghostly Cercei, and Joffrey's mouth kept wanting to grin like a godsdamned fool.

Gods… please… stop… focus Joffrey… focus. Pain! Pain!!!

"THEN WHY ARE YOU STILL SMILING YOU WHORE'S SON!?" the Captain positively thundered.

Ghostly Cercei's head got so red it exploded, along with all the courtiers in the Red Keep as they shrieked into the skies like demented ravens at the sheer, preposterous unacceptable attack on princely dignity--

Joffrey couldn't contain himself any longer "BUAAAAHAHAHAHA!!!"

Captain Xu's head got so red he thought it might really explode.

Oh boy…

Red Gorilla incoming…

-.PD.-

The Scouts were a particularly odd bunch of individuals. Rumor on the Dawn Fort was that the constant exposure to the grey sand turned their brains to mush, making them incapable of feeling some emotions but opening up their senses to sights otherwise undreamt by normal humans.

Joffrey thought that was a load of camel shit.

He did think that the constant solitude they experienced travelling through the endless plains of the Shrykes or through the deserts to the north east, along with the frankly heart stopping night skies watchable even from the Greytower… changed their perspectives a bit, regarding life. Joffrey couldn't help but feel some sort of connection to the rough edged, quiet men. Each of them had a rich inner world, and every word they spoke had a real meaning or purpose. Of course, they were still human beings, which showed in the ribbing they delivered on the raw recruit. The jokes were unexpected and to the point, which endlessly amused Joffrey. They were all the funnier because of their rarity, and Joffrey retaliated as good as he had.

It appeared that had been the right thing to do, because after that he was slowly integrated into their close knit community. They hadn't invited him to their dice games though, they insisted Joffrey had to 'earn his horse' before joining the ancient and hallowed traditional game which legends said the gods themselves had played right here in the Greytower before the beginning of time (ha!).

They said it was for his own safety… given that they betted water rations for when they were out there in the Beyond, he believed them.

An odd bunch indeed.

Months flew by as Joffrey struggled to internalize the Scout's peculiar bow proficiency. From order or decision to engage, in three seconds the Scout had to get an arrow from its quiver to the air, and hit a man sized target in front of him or hundreds of meters away. Every single movement was there because it absolutely had to, the basics of bowery trimmed to their absolute minimum. Far more difficult than the reflexive and quick nock-draw-loose, was the sheer mental effort behind the technique. The physical part was 'easy', a 'mere' matter of grinding repetition, as Joffrey soon found out.

From dawn till dusk, the recurve bow became Joffrey's life. He awoke in the barracks, the den where the scouts slept, gambled and fooled around when not on duty, and clothed himself with a full Scout's garb. A heavy thing full of pouches, knives, head and neck protections and a green-grey cloak.

And two full quivers.

Captain Xu made him loose arrows at the targets literally all day long. Sometimes the good captain would leave him there alone for the entire afternoon, loosing and loosing arrows without end until his fingers bled and his arms burned. Then the next day he'd make him sit in the shade as his fingers healed and watch a couple of Scouts turn the target into a hedgehog with arrows in barely a minute.

When the toll on his arms became too much, one of the Scouts out of scouting duty would take him on tours through the 'nearby' area, teaching him valuable survival techniques from how to find water to how to survive a sandstorm and more.

Lieutenant Han, a young Scout that transferred from the Garrison two years ago was his most frequent companion. Together they travelled through the plains and the small nearby deserts that rose like grey hills from the otherwise flat pasture. Joffrey got to know the outer forts, a series of small keeps and watchtowers that marked the end of the Legion's fixed presence out there, all manned by hardened Garrison threerays and half suns.

Han taught him how the Scouts rode, a style made from firing from the horse without too much hassle but also suited for the longer missions out there. How to ride quickly without tiring the horse too much and how to maintain a steady pace in a pursuit were but two of the many other things he taught Joffrey.

Of course, the archery lessons never stopped. Far from some innate skill, the 'Divine Wind' school of archery was learnable, and Joffrey gradually internalized its movements as it had been intended. After so much repetition, it became so ingrained Joffrey could quickly do the movements while singing a (horrible) jig.

The purpose behind turning the whole thing into instinct was to leave the mental space necessary to do the actual calculations behind every shot. In an unholy union between marksmanship and mathematics, the Dawn Scouts actually used those three seconds to calculate the math behind the shot they wanted to make. Very rough estimates of wind speed and velocity they may have been, but for their purposes a slight tilt to the right or to the left of a chest would still kill a man, and the use of such technique showed. Volley fire had long ago become an insult amongst the Scouts, when they loosed, they aimed... And the galloping raider sometimes didn't even know what hit him, a lone arrow sailing over a slight hill and planting itself on his back without a sound.

Joffrey spent the nights amongst the candle lights, calculating hypothetical shots on the ever present Yi-Tish white paper, trying to ingrain the mental part in just as he had the physical.

They told him it took years, even decades for someone to master the technique, but Joffrey felt like he was already understanding the basics.

He felt like in some kind of Acolyte's final examination, combining and leveraging unsuspecting skills into the resolution of a problem. His arrow filled dreams often combined with memories of sailing through the seas or learning about numbers in the Citadel. It felt like combining different persons, different lives. Solving the intense equations below a peering Archmaester Ryam, instinctively judging wind speed in the midst of a storm, feeling the right speed for a parry against the Hound, gazing at sweeping parabolas and trajectories with Archmaester Vallyn… He had been training for this technique his whole lives without realizing it.

One day it all suddenly clicked into focus, paradoxically when he had been the most distracted.

There had been some commotion in the gatehouse with an injured Scout and Captain Xu had been distracted dealing with the rushing horses and healers.

Joffrey had been exhausted after a day of hard riding out in the interior perimeter and a night of long shot calculations. He'd been daydreaming about a lazy afternoon below Winterfells Heart tree, watching the play of red and scarlet leaves as they formed a slowly descending shroud, slowly tumbling down to surround-

"SCOUTS! ENGAGE!" had suddenly bellowed Captain Xu.

Joffrey had still been mesmerized by the leaves while his hands moved on their own account. He felt the wind and the tension on the bow as he drew.

He almost felt like he had somehow been transported to Winterfell for a second when a sudden silence around him forced him to come back to reality.

The Captain and the couple of Scouts that had been watching were silent.

On the other side of the courtyard, Joffrey could see an arrow lodged into the chest of the target. He looked down and found his bow still in his hand, in a resting position while his other hand was barely grasping a second arrow from his quiver, ready for another shot.

One of the spectating Scouts had tossed a water canteen to the other one, who had been grinning like a fool.

Joffrey's mind had been dominated by one thought however.

Gods I'd kill a man for a bed.

-.PD.-

He was by far the worse shot of the whole organization, but he was now part of said organization and that filled him with joy. The instructions about how to fire from horseback synergized well, and before long Joffrey could proudly call himself a 'Horse Scout', the bread and butter of the Dawn Scouts. He now sported three iron rays on his chest, and he could finally partake in the dice games, which if not for the Scout's generosity for the 'barbarian' would have left him a dehydrated pea smoldering in the desert sun.

His 'graduation' entailed a lot of Shrub Ale and a harrowing but gut wrenchingly funny session of 'hold this gol-pear on your head and don't move!'… after that every time his scalp suddenly itched every Scout within sight would burst into laughter… and promptly scratch their own old scars in sympathetic reaction.

Far from being over, Joffrey's new comrades were more than happy to announce that this was just the beginning. His path to become a Dawn Scout had just begun…

-.PD.-

His continued training blurred with his assigned duties as months turned to years. At first Joffrey was assigned to Patrols that only edged the lands of the Shrykes, but that changed with time. The Beyond was gradually turning into an even deadlier place, month after month. As casualties started to take its toll on the Scouts, and as Joffrey's skill grew, so did his rank within the Legion. Only six months after his graduation he'd already won his fourth iron ray (Scouts always had at least three). He fought against the strange and deadly Shrykes, and later still peacefully negotiated and traded with them in their small shanty towns, built around the remains of their once great cities. He learnt their sibilant tongue and once even managed to negotiate a stand down between them and a faraway keep from the Sunrise Legion, a bloody siege that had started over a misunderstanding. The act earned him the sunbeam, the highest rank a conscript or a simple soldier could acquire before becoming an officer.

The decision to commission as an officer and extend his service for 5 more years had not been difficult at all. The two years he spent amongst the Scouts taught him a camaraderie Joffrey had never in his life experienced before. He had experienced close friendships before (though always with a painful end… They always stared at him as either a stranger or a monster after he died and woke up again) but he had never felt that type of deep connection with another stranger, someone that only because he carried a piece of legion iron on his chest or a grey cloak on his back Joffrey knew he'd back him up in any situation, be it a skirmish, a battle or a tavern brawl. Within the Scouts he found a quirky and subtle community of companions, of brothers. A bunch of brothers whose Joffrey would sooner rip his own eyes out before tormenting, a band of brothers that, one day he was surprised to find out, he'd kill and die for.

Every six months he'd receive a letter from Chief Vayon, or should he say Threeray Valyon? Despite having some difficulties with the language, the dependable Chief had made a name for himself as both an instructor of discipline and a bridge between the officers and the men of the Garrison. He was prime Sunbeam material, and command knew that. Occasionally they'd meet when Joffrey was rotated back to the Dawn Fort for 'down time', and the Chief would regale him with old and new anecdotes while on his part Joffrey spoke about the dangers of the Beyond.

His ascension to the Officers and transformation into a Lieutenant bore a lot more similarities with an apprenticeship rather than with conventional training. The Dawn Fort had its own 'Sun Academy', but out there in the Beyond the Scouts could ill afford to lose a Sunbeam while it trained to become a Half Sun. So Joffrey joined a somewhat different type of Academy, one on the Greytower's keep itself. The Scribe's Tower, or much more commonly referred to as the 'The Trash Tower' by the inhabitants of Greytower and the rest of the men, was the Dawn Scout's very own miniature academy. Its unfortunate nickname came from the haphazard organization and teaching style of the place, which some Sunbeams likened to tossing whatever bits and ends command could find into a pile and see what happened. The pupils hardly attended there regularly, given that they had urgent duties on the Beyond themselves, and the teachers were no better. The officer on teaching duty was often someone who had been injured on the line and was on a mandated recovery period.

Somehow though, they made it work. The Scouts played to the Trash Tower's strengths and always managed to arrange a diversity of 'teachers' for whatever future officers were attending at the moment. Joffrey learned from a wide variety of great men, from the Garrison siege experts who were sometimes invited to the most eccentric and lethal of Scouts who lounged on the Greytower for weeks after an extensive mission on the Beyond.

The Scout officers ensured that Joffrey not only had the skills to survive out there in the beyond, but that he'd also be able to lead a small group of men out of there too. The Garrison invitees, on the other hand, polished his discipline and taught Joffrey the theory behind the practice, tactics and strategies and the principles of warcraft.

To say Fol-Fing's 'Elemental Principles of War' was the Dawn Garrison's Seven Pointed Star would have been an understatement. Joffrey had to learn the book by memory, something that was expected of every officer in the Dawn. The masterpiece had defined the course of warcraft in the east for thousands of years and legends had it, Fol-Fing, The General Who Fought a Thousand Battles and Lost None had been inspired to write it after a single match of Paigo with his dreaded nemesis, the Black Sorcerer. Needless to say, that particular game was a popular past time within the officers of the Legion.

By the end of the year of his Academy training, Joffrey knew the book so well he swore he was having intricate conversations with Fol-Fing himself on his dreams…

In one of his chapters, Fol-Fing wrote about the makeup of the Ideal Officer. One of the Ideal Attributes, the flowery named 'Aura of Serene Command' was, according to the legendary general, one of the most important attributes the Ideal Officer possessed. The Aura of Serene Command could not be taught, it could only be gained by constantly clashing with danger, and after constant reflection when the after mentioned danger passed. It was an emerging awareness within oneself that, whether through inner skill or exterior purpose, the officer knew that his command was necessary. After danger and battle had been joined a hundred times over, the Ideal Officer transcended his fears and his doubts, he was transformed into an instrument of pure will. Thus, once the transformation was over the officer did no longer expect or hope his decisions were followed. He knew his decisions would be followed. He felt it like another fact of life, just like he knew that water was wet and that the sun rose from the east.

Joffrey thought few people could achieve that state, and he knew only a handful that had.

His current instructor had it in spades.

The bamboo rod crashed right between Joffrey's resting hands, not hitting them but startling him as the sudden sound echoed through the small room.

Joffrey's posture snapped straight, eyes forward.

"Sunbeam Jof-Ri!" snapped Major Gashin. The old Garrison siege resistance expert had an aura of command that practically forced one to listen, though his was a bit more Grouchy than Serene.

"Yes Major Gashin Sir!"

"You are now in Effective Command! Retreat cut off, the enemy has surrounded you! Orders, fast!" snapped the Major. The small room was home to three other Scout Sunbeams, all paying supreme attention.

Joffrey was not bumbling into that one though, a classic rookie mistake he'd already done a dozen times through the year. "I request to know my Mission Objectives, Sir!" he snapped at the Major, still sitting as straight as the bamboo rod which the Major carried.

"You were ordered to link up with the main army to the north, but the route there is slow and treacherous. What is the fifth elemental principle of war?!" he suddenly asked. Joffrey could ask for the scenarios details in order to take a more informed decision, but that carried a corresponding penalty in the form of fast questions that aimed to disrupt his concentration, a pale equivalent to 'trying to think about what to do while raider stoneclimbers storm your position and your men die beneath a gale of arrows ' as Major Gashin had so eloquently put it. He'd know, he had lost his arm a decade ago courtesy of a Raider Camel Ballista.

"'Fifth Elemental Principle of War: Dispersion and Concentration! With enough strength behind it, a dagger can fell even the mightiest of warriors, but a dagger too tightly grasped can be swiftly cut down in one single strike!'" Joffrey recited. "I request to know the estimated strength of the enemy as well as my own, sir!"

"Three full Camel Tribes approaching from the east, as well as a Horse Raider Chief and his personal retinue closing off the south. You have Two Scout Patrols and a company of Garrison Irons. A mountain range blocks your west, you can only go north through a ragged, treacherous path, south through the horse chief, east through the camel tribes or stay in place and fortify your position. Now explain General Fol-Fing's Fifth Principle in simple terms, so even barbarian would understand" The Major ordered.

Joffrey still sat straight, thinking fast "Both styles have their strengths and disadvantages sir! To name a few, a concentrated force can outmaneuver and even win a battle against a superior, dispersed force, as long as the attacking force moves swiftly and with purpose. On the other hand, a dispersed force will know where the attackers are, in effect giving up the initiative for intelligence on the concentrated force, opening the ground for harassment strikes at their supplies, their rear, or even achieve an encirclement and destroy them in one fell strike… I'd concentrate my forces and strike south sir. As dangerous as a Horse Chief's retinue can be, they'd be defeated in detail. Then I'd march west around the mountains and then North, taking out the obvious ambushing force on the north route from the rear and linking up with the rest of the Legion" Joffrey answered.

The Major looked thoughtful for a moment, before grudgingly nodding. "Acceptable… but reckless. The raiders could have taken the northern route and concentrated before you arrived from the journey around the mountains… Sunbeam Niam, an alternate plan?"

The other sunbeam squared his shoulders, staring straight ahead. "Push through the north and the eventual ambush, leave a blocking force behind me!" he said.

"But sir! That would leave my men-" Joffrey started.

"Dead. Their carcasses rotting below the desert sun. Abandoned. But what if your reinforcements where just what the legion needed in the midst of a pitched battle? What if you'd been carrying an urgent message? What if the person needed to stop this conflict was in your care?" The Major suddenly asked.

"I… I'd…" But the Major did not let him finish. "I nothing! Oftentimes, willingly sacrificing the lives of your men, and even your own, can save countless more in the future. That is our duty as officers of the Dawn. To decide who dies, and if necessary, die ourselves…" Said Major Gashin, eyes looking a bit farther than Joffrey, almost through him.

"Duty is heavier than mountains…" recited Joffrey, thinking.

To spend people's lives just like that… I don't like it… It makes me remember how I… used and discarded people for my wants, for my desires… even for my own amusement.

"But death is lighter than a feather" finished the Major. He refocused and quickly assaulted the third Sunbeam, who he must have thought had not been paying sufficient attention.

"Sunbeam Yuan! What is the Seventh Elemental Principle of War?!" he snapped.

Joffrey tuned out Deim's response, thinking hard.

Used and discarded like a rusted tool. Ser Barristan, kicked aside so that—Ser Jaime could take his place in the Kingsguard as Lord Commander… Tyrion as hand of the King and then dropped without even a forethought in favor of Tywin… The piles upon piles of dead smallfolk villagers on the riverlands…

He felt distressed as he felt a bit of pain in his chest. If I follow this path will I become that again, a whimsy monster using everyone in his grasp?

Not now, breath, he thought as he clutched his chest. He took a deep breath, feeling and willing his heart to beat more slowly, and the slight thrumming pain within his chest disappeared.

Joffrey shook his head as he relaxed his posture, setting his mind back to the present and away from frightening futures.

-.PD.-

The work at the 'Trash Tower' was only half of the hard road to the Half Sun, however. When not in the Greytower, the Scouts took their prospective officers and treated them almost like apprentices, working under the more experienced Scouts, teaching them what they knew.

The recently promoted Coronel Jin took him, of course. His relationship with his superior was always more horizontal than what the huge gulf between their ranks would have otherwise suggested, and Joffrey spent months accompanying the Coronel on his diminishing missions as his new rank forced the realities of paperwork down the his throat. Joffrey half suspected Jin had chosen him only because of his bureaucratic shuffling skills, but in the end the outcome was the same. With the Coronel he learnt about the dirtier, hands on nature of command out on the Beyond.

Joffrey was still not sure about being in any leadership position over other men, what with the disastrous experience that had turned his first dozen lives into hell. Clearly, he had difficulty thinking of a more incompetent king for the seven kingdoms. His time as a Ship's Captain and as a Legion Sunbeam had chipped at his objections a bit, but he still felt ethereally incompetent when he found himself in command of larger groups of men.

The Colonel treated his insecurities with some very moderate success as Joffrey learned about how to handle the discipline and when to relax it, when to command and when to listen. Eventually, he resolved to again 'faked it until he made it' as Tyrion had said a long time ago…

And then, about five years after waking up on his bed in the Red Keep, Joffrey was commissioned as a half sun in the Legion of the Dawn.

Joffrey felt within his depth, barely. But events would conspire to jump him from lieutenant to Captain, a full sun, only six months later.

-.PD.-

"What do you think, lieutenant?" asked Captain Dsin, testing the toughness of his bow. Joffrey looked at the small village and the dozen wagons parked beside it. Sorrow's Rest was a small community of goat herders centered around a tiny oasis, one of many such settlements that lived in abject poverty on the edges and borders of the Land of the Shrykes, toiling the hard soil for meager returns. Small villages like it often lived a hellish existence in between the different threats that whipped the lands beyond the Five Forts. Besides the droughts and the sand storms, the frequent raiders that emerged from the grey wastes were a like a plague for such communities, a sudden whirlwind of death and savagery that left what little they had in ruins and half their people dead, if they were lucky. The roving bands of young Shryke Braves were no joke either. Trade with the lizardmen was a common occurrence beyond the Five Forts, but for the younger Shrykes who searched for worthy opponents to prove themselves, these hardy goat herders were a workable substitution if a suitable Dawn Patrol could not be found.

The half-starved looking camels that had been clearly pulling the carts a few hours ago were now resting and drinking from the small oasis, and the small wooden shacks that made up the village were quiet.

Joffrey kept looking for a few minutes, reins tight on his horse. "Looks benign enough, Captain" he said, trying and failing to find anything out of the ordinary.

"Always a bad sign, lieutenant" muttered the Captain as he kept gazing at the place.

"The carts must be from a Shryke caravan looking to buy some goat pelts. Gods know the lizardmen need them…" Joffrey mused, looking at the carts themselves. They looked a bit ramshackle, and devoid of any typical Shryke ornamentation. "But the carts…"

"Yes, I noticed too. Besides look at the camels. The herders would have never let them drink directly from the oasis for fear of diseases. They would have used wooden drinkholes…" said Dsin thoughtfully.

"Dead men can't refuse them the oasis though… You're thinking Camel Tribe?" asked Joffrey.

Dsin frowned, thinking hard. "… maybe… if their Shaman was drunk enough. This would be the worst security I've seen from a Camel Tribe encampment though… and the camels looked half starved, the Shaman would have fed his own men at them before risking that… no… I don't think so…" he mused.

He finally took out the arrow and nocked it on the bow. "Only one way to find out, we'll take Sunbeam So-Min's section and go in. If we find anything in there that's not a bunch of very drunk, merry herders we call in the rest of the Patrol" he commanded.

"Aye Sir. I'll get the men organized" Joffrey told him as he spun his horse around and rode a couple dozen meters to the back, where 30 other riders sporting the cloak and bow of the Scouts awaited, silent atop their horses.

Joffrey rode next to Sunbeam So-Min, who was watching the village like the rest of the men who were not on flanking duty. "What's the trouble Split?" So-Min asked immediately. The strictness of the Garrison diluted quite a bit amongst the Scouts, especially amongst the soldiers and the conscripts. The nature of their posting demanded it.

"Captain's smelling trouble. We're checking out the interior with your section while Sunbeam Gohl's stays in reserve" Joffrey promptly explained.

"Got it sir. I'll get Red Section ready for an ambush" he said as his horse surged forward, speaking lowly and gesticulating at the fifteen or so men that made up his section.

Typical Sunbeam. Always expecting the worse… Can't blame him, I'm starting to do the same.

He rode his horse towards the other side of the small formation, reaching Orange Section and Sunbeam Gohl.

"If you hear fighting or see the flare I want you to ride in there from the other side of town and try to link up with us quickly. If it's an ambush we'll want to turn it back on them" Joffrey told him.

The Garrison transfer snapped a quick salute and a small "Yes, Lieutenant"

We'll have to introduce you to the gol-pear and the school of staying very still for you to drop the 'Lieutenant' and pick up the 'Split', Joffrey thought, slightly amused.

He spurred his horse back towards the Captain as Red Section formed up behind him, two rows of seven men, plus Sunbeam So-Min.

"All formed up, Split" said So-Min, readying his bow.

Joffrey nodded and cantered forwards, back to the Captain. "Ready for a quick look-see sir" Joffrey told his Captain. Dsin nodded, spurring his horse onwards. "Let's make this quick then" he said.

The seventeen men quickly rode into town through the 'main street', fast enough to mean business but not enough to seem hostile. The street was bordered by small or tiny shacks that sometimes made minute alleyways between them. Joffrey thought the street couldn't be longer than a hundred meters before the houses stopped and the plains resumed.

The houses looked uninhabited, but not deserted. There were still small foodstuffs on the outside, and the flocks of long horned blue-grey goats were out in the open, dashing in between horses and generally being a nuisance.

They stopped when they saw a woman standing on the porch of one of the bigger houses, looking at them curiously.

Joffrey and the Captain stopped in front of her while the rest of the soldiers formed a perimeter around their backs, wary of an ambush.

"May I ask who comes to this fair town in this lovely night?" she asked, looking at them with a small smile that sent shivers down Joffrey's spine. She had a hood over her face and a typical mottled cloak over her back, no different than the one used by a thousand other travellers on the Beyond.

"Captain Dsin of the Dawn Scouts, Eighth Patrol. We got lost in a sandstorm and I'm trying to link up with the rest of my men" the Captain said briskly.

"Oh but of course! Please, forgive me for my impertinence, come, come and rest from your weary journey" she said, gesticulating and entering the bigger house.

"One word Captain and I put an arrow right between her eyes" whispered Sunbeam So-Min, looking at the door with apprehension and grasping an arrow that had already come out from its quiver, and was resting on his bow.

"Not yet. Something's definitively wrong, but we need to know what. Come on, be ready for anything" the Captain said as he dismounted and tied his horse to a post. The rest of the men quickly followed and half entered while the rest arrayed themselves into a defensive perimeter.

"Fouray Cxi, stay out here with half the men and look alive, I want eyes everywhere and a signal arrow at the ready" whispered the Captain, grabbing the man's arm as he spoke.

"Yes Sir" The fouray whispered back, bow out and a second away from a draw as he directed the men outside.

As they entered, Joffrey thought the house looked like it served as the village's tavern, if one were charitable. The high table vaguely resembled the typical 'bar' or longtable that seemed universal to civilization, in the corner surrounding a door that most likely led to some sort of kitchen.

Opposed to the bar, on the other corners were several tables. A few of them were occupied by similarly robed individuals, muttering lowly between themselves. They were frequently drinking from some kid of white mugs, occasionally trying to restrain a giggle.

The Captain, So-Min, Joffrey and the seven other scouts walked to the high table, Joffrey and the Captain sitting on the stools and the rest of the men only leaning on the table, discreetly surrounding both officers. "I don't like this Split" Whispered Threeray Vol as he leaned beside Joffrey on the bar, "This is giving me vibes from some of the stories they used to spook Onerays in the Dream Room…" he whispered. Joffrey didn't disagree, in fact his danger sense was now screaming at him. "Look alert Vol… Anything happens you pepper the back audience with arrows, we'll ask the questions later" He told him before turning back to the Captain. "Sir, they look Yi-Tish in complexion, they're definitively not Raiders" Joffrey told him.

The strange lady emerged from the kitchen doors then, carrying a tray filled with white mugs and a happy smile on her face. "Here you go!" she said, laying down the tray and spreading the mugs around.

I'd break the Scout's bow that would even think about drinking that…

His thoughts must have echoed through the other men as most didn't even look at the drinks.

"We've come a long way to get here, but we still have a ways to go… We're searching for a new life you know?" she suddenly said.

"I see… what kind of new life are you seeking…?" Joffrey asked, following the sudden conversation and trying to fish for information. There were groups of outcasts out in the Beyond, people who willingly or otherwise left the grasp of the Empire for a new life. They usually didn't last much.

"Ah, we are looking for a place filled with wonderful people, people of great skill and… vision... We want to find a teacher who will take us" she said gesturing at the rest of the tables. "All of us!" she said with a giggle as she gesticulated grandly with her long arms.

"But please, drink. I'll go get the main course" she said with a snort and a small chuckle. When she turned the slight light that the moon delivered through the window made her face visible, and Joffrey gasped. Her eyes were completely black.

She walked through the kitchen door, sauntering happily.

"Captain?" Joffrey asked urgently. "They're Cultists… wannabe Cultists…" whispered the Captain, looking at the mug and then again at the kitchen door.

"Fuck…" whispered Threeray Vol, hands trembling.

Magic, as Joffrey had learned through the years, was a lot more common in Yi-Ti than in Westeros while still being a very rare sight. He'd heard the Imperial University even had whole 'wing' dedicated to the study of it, but even then there are still practices that are banned throughout the Empire… forbidden knowledge that is always sought by a certain kind of people…

And out in the Beyond it was common knowledge in the Legion that the worst of the lot ended up here. Too deranged and dangerous for the House of the Undying but not competent or skilled enough to receive an invitation from the Lord of Carcosa. And so, they searched for a place which would accept them, chasing legends and whispers in the night…

She said they were looking for a place to teach them…

Wannabe Cultists indeed. By the Gods, they're searching for K'Dath.

The Captain had seemingly reached the same conclusion a few seconds ago. He was looking at the white mug in green disgust. "I think I found the goat herders… Darkness of the Midnight…" he muttered in shock.

A warning emerged unbidden from Joffrey's mind. 'A forbidden concoction similar to the Shade of the Evening, but spiced with Human Blood. Twice as powerful in half the time, for only triple the sanity… If you see the black eyes, kill with no hesitation or you might end up inside the next cup…' He remembered the strange, squinting officer that spoke at the 'Trash Tower' for a few days. He was the only officer there whose rank insignia had been made of Jade, a lonely black sun.

"Fuckfuckfuck, Cultists?!" urgently whispered Threeray Vol, swiveling his head from side to side before looking at the captain on the verge of panic. "We have to get out of here Captain! This is a job for a Jade Constellation or two, not the Scouts!" whispered Vol as the other soldiers shuffled, hands tightly grasping their bows and daggers.

"Threeray! Calm down!" The Captain whispered in between his teeth with his command tone. The military discipline kicked in as the Threeray snapped into attention. "I said wannabe cultists, not Grey Word Whisperers. We are Scouts, we are the eyes and ears of the Dawn. Act like it." He said as a matter of fact, again looking behind at the tables where the aspiring cultists still whispered and giggled. "We'll retreat slowly and link up with Sunbeam Gohl's section, then we'll evaluate the situation and see how to proceed" ordered the Captain as he looked to the kitchen door again. "For the Dawn" he whispered.

"For the Dawn" whispered back Joffrey and the rest of the men.

The Captain nodded as he stood up, turning back and promptly bumping into the black eyed woman.

"Going so soon?! But the main course has yet to begun!" she pouted like a small girl as she placed both hands on the sides of Captain Dsing's head, smiling.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!" screamed the Captain as blood poured down his nose and ears, his eyes dissolving into so much goo.

Joffrey snapped his bow up and loosed an arrow at her head, pointblank range. The arrow embedded itself on the cloak as it suddenly fell to the floor, empty.

"Captain Dsin! CAPTAIN!!!" shouted Joffrey as he crouched and grabbed the Captains shaking form. He jittered so hard he rattled on the floor as pressurized blood kept coming out of his body like a broken Myrish sewer. With one final gurgle the Captain stilled, mercifully dead.

The other cultists rose from their tables, all giggling manically as they dropped empty white bone mugs on the floor and walked quickly towards the group of Scouts.

Joffrey almost screamed in panic at the sudden display of blatant magic, but a voice thundered inside his head, stalling that. It was Major Gashin's, not leaving him time to think.

'You are now in Effective Command!' Snapped the Major.

Joffrey thought lightning fast as he rose from the floor, feeling as if time had slowed.

Ambushed by Cultists inside a confined space, orders? He thought as he nocked another arrow.

"Scouts! Midday Circle and shoot at will, now!" Joffrey bellowed as he tossed the stools aside and loosed an arrow at one of the walking cultists. The arrow seemed to have the same effect as the robe fell to the ground, as if only air had inhabited it before.

The Scouts snapped out of the shock and formed up into a rough circle, leaving no area of the 'tavern' uncovered. They started loosing arrows at the mass of approaching cultists, leaving only empty robes behind. But every time an arrow took one out, two more emerged from the shadows in the far corners of the building.

"PACED ARROWS, DON'T LET THEM GET CLOSE!" Joffrey bellowed as he struggled to remember what the officer from the Jade Scribes had said about this. One day he had described something extremely similar, the 'shadowalk' he had called it.

A 'mere trick of blood and darkness, the pathetic staple of the inept, drunk on the power of blood' he'd called it.

If this is pathetic I shudder to think what he'd find great…

He loosed another arrow, "Fouray Cxi! Send the signal arrow now!" he shouted at the tavern's door as he kept loosing arrows at the swarming robes, each one falling to the floor a bit closer to the group than its predecessor.

"YOU HEARD THE SPLIT!" bellowed Sunbeam So-Min as he grabbed Scouts and repositioned them so they were evenly spread, arraying them so that the quickly expanding mob of robes could not reach them, "PICK YOUR TARGEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!" he screamed as a torrent of blood emerged from his mouth, leaving his armor bathed in blood in merely a second. He collapsed belly first, revealing the smiling woman behind him. "JUST DIE YOU BITCH!!!" screamed Threeray Vol as he dashed and stabbed her from behind with his dagger. The robe collapsed with a giggle, leaving only the now still form of the Sunbeam.

Joffrey struggled with his hammering, pained heart and the adrenaline as he tried to remember what else the Jade Scribe's Captain had said.

The illusions may be deadly, but their still form are never faraway, the… gods… the… the darkness deepens with their fumbling, that's what he said…

He stopped loosing arrows and gazed intently at the black spots in the back. The corners and a few sections of the wall were very dark, darker still than the rest of the room. In fact, if Joffrey strained to look, he could see the vague silhouettes of men, made of pure darkness.

One of the swarming mobs finally managed to reach the group. It grabbed a Threeray's head, not in an almost caressing manner like the woman had done but grasping it as if it were a rock. The Threeray started to scream as blood poured out of his nose and he crouched, but the Scout to his side swiftly pivoted and planted a dagger on the robe's back, collapsing it and leaving the Threeray alone, taking in ragged breaths as he struggled to stand back up.

Joffrey aimed at the black spot and loosed an arrow. Suddenly, as if a gaslamp had been lit, that particular splotch of darkness regained color, reveling a stumbling man trying to grasp the arrow sticking out just above his collarbone.

"SHOOT THE DARK SPOTS AT THE BACK! SHOOT THEM NOW!" Joffrey bellowed as he whipped his dagger out and stabbed a robe that had gotten too close.

A few Scouts were on the ground, jerking and holding their heads as blood emerged from their bodies, but the rest quickly alternated their fire to the back, and soon stumbling and screaming cultists started to emerge from the shadows, clutching slightly bloodied bellies, chests and throats.

The robes started to collapse by themselves then as more and more of the madmen were slain, oddly leaving very little blood behind. Soon, there were alone inside the tavern with the bodies of the crazed cultists, the back wall devoid of black splotches.

"Out, now!" Ordered Joffrey as the men moved, quickly going out the door and out to the street.

Outside Joffrey found Fouray Cxi's body still grasping the signal arrow, blood pooling all around him and the rest of the dead scouts arrayed in a semicircular perimeter on the taverns entrance.

"Shit, Threeray Jho! Get the--"

Joffrey nearly jumped when the Threeray screamed, blood again pouring out of his body as a girlish giggle came from behind him.

Several Scouts desperately stabbed the now falling robe, which pooled around the gurgling Threeray.

Joffrey was now in command of four men.

What!? There weren't any more black spots in there! he thought desperately as he gazed now at the street. He scanned every inch of their small surroundings, but the moon was bright in the sky and everywhere Joffrey gazed looked normal enough.

He started loosing arrows at every vaguely dark area he could see when another soldier gurgled to his knees, clutching his neck while the other two stabbed the apparition again. He fired desperately as he felt the pain on his chest increasing.

Three men.

Stop, He thought.

Breathe…

He tried to open his senses as he often did while meditating, trying to hear, trying to feel what was wrong like he always did, but this time trying to feel it outside, not within himself.

Red twirling leaves in a shroud around ---

He snapped his eyes open and looked to the other side of the street at an empty porch. In three seconds he loosed an arrow at the spot, and he was vaguely surprised to see a stumbling woman emerge from the dark, clutching her belly.

She raised her head, looking at Joffrey in confusion mouth opening for a taunt or a spell or just maybe just another giggle. Joffrey planted another arrow on her chest before she opened her mouth, making her take a step back.

Joffrey grunted as he loosed again, pinning an arrow on her left breast. The woman kept stumbling back until Joffrey placed an arrow right through her right eye. She fell on the ground, barely a sliver of blood dripping from her wounds.

"Threeray Vol, light the signal arrow" Joffrey ordered as he took a deep breath, grabbing one of the tavern porch's wooden pillars, feeling completely exhausted.

He barely registered the explosion of light and sound above him, the signal arrow converting into a rain of yellow sparks.

"Sir! Lieutenant! Where is the Captain?" suddenly asked Sunbeam Gohl, his horse whining nervously at the dead bodies as the rest of Orange section arrived in force, fourteen mounted scouts armed with bows, katanas and torches.

"He's KIA… I'm assuming Effective Command" he told Gohl. The Sunbeam seemed to gulp as he digested that. "Understood, orders sir?" he asked.

Joffrey shook off the deep weariness as he stood up, centering himself.

"Slash and Burn, no prisoners. By dawn I don't want to see a single house standing" he ordered, his voice gradually becoming less shaken and more hardened.

"Aye Sir! Orange Section! Slash and Burn, burn it all!" he bellowed back as the men started throwing torches and flaming arrows at the buildings, igniting great bonfires and dispelled the cold dark.

-.PD.-

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when what remained of the Eighth Patrol left the village ruins through the main road.

Joffrey stopped his horse at the sight of a dozen or so dead cultists, faces locked in varying degrees of terror or fear. Their bodies were torn apart as if they'd been taken by surprise by a storm of jagged swords.

"Your handiwork?" he asked Sunbeam Gohl who had just stopped his own horse beside Joffrey.

"No sir. We were riding in after we saw the yellow flare and bumped into these bodies. They must have been waiting in ambush for us but… it seems someone got to them first…" said the Sunbeam.

"Someone or something" Joffrey muttered with a shiver. He stretched his legs, using the stirrups to rise a bit higher and look around him. There was nothing around, only endless plains and the occasional hill, all heavy with the smoke of the burning village behind them.

"Leave them, we ride for the Greytower" he ordered the soldiers.

-.PD.-

Joffrey looked glumly at the iron sun on his hand, flipping it slightly and seeing the way it glinted with the daylight. He was atop he Greytower, watching the sprawls of sand on the horizon that shimmered from the midday sun.

Almost the entirety of Red Section KIA and they give me this…

He regarded the iron sun with suspicion, looking warily at it.

They ended up disbanding the Eighth Patrol because of the casualties…

He stood there for a good long while, so long he saw the changing of the guard as the soldiers on watch duty switched, always scanning the horizon in search of threats.

Gods… if the General could see what I did with power in my past lives… he sure as hells wouldn't have given me this.

By the Gods, he would have had me tied to the target post and shot. He'd know he's making a terrible mistake, a terrible terrible mistake—

He grunted as he kneeled, feeling a deep pain on his chest. A thrumming deep within.

Breathe…

Haltingly he rose, breathing deeply and clearing his mind.

Again…

Joffrey had been feeling that strange pain for a while now, every time a bit stronger than the last. It had started as far back as when he'd still been onboard the Jade Dreams if he was not mistaken, though he suspected some strange sensations and ghostly pains that he'd felt in the longer of his previous lives had been one and the same with what was happening to him now… and that scared him.

He was starting to suspect he had a heart condition of some sort, one of the many he'd studied in the Citadel. That would explain why the pain kept getting worse the longer he lived, as his condition deteriorated.

…The other, far scarier alternative was that he was losing his mind again. The strange, painful thrum generally tended to assault him when he was distressed, though it seemed to almost have a mind of its own, so random it was in its timing.

He took another deep breath.

No use worrying about it. Something will happen, or nothing will.

He spent a few more minutes up there in the tower, sitting with his legs crossed under him as he watched the Greytower's surroundings again. The sun was now to the West, slowly moving downwards.

He thought about the strange land he was discovering in the edge of the world, and about the strange and terrifying secrets it hid. The longer he stayed here, the deeper the dark hole of questions became.

He gripped the iron sun strongly, fisting his hand around it with all his strength.

I have to be ready…

-.PD.-

"Chin" Joffrey whispered at the threeray that crouched behind him, gripping the grey sandy dune and looking up at Joffrey attentively. "Yes Captain?" he answered.

"I think I found our missing scouts, tell Lieutenant Hu to bring the men up" he ordered.

"Yes Sir" whispered the man as he slithered backwards towards a gaggle of green-grey cloaked statues.

Joffrey stayed there on top of the dune, gazing at the small camp below. His cloak almost hid his entire body, only his pale green eyes were visible, peering in between his neck guard and his hood.

More than forty shrykes... that's a lot of lizards, but their camp layout is a disaster. Four Scouts in the middle, tied.

The humanoid lizardmen had scales around their foreheads and sibilant tongues whose venom could kill a man in minutes, but generally they weren't very hostile to the Legions. If one left them alone, they left you alone… most of the time. It wasn't rare to see them in some of the shanty towns that dotted the area, trading peacefully. It was called the land of the Shrykes for a reason after all…

Joffrey had almost had a heart attack when he first saw one, but after four long years of patrolling the Lands of the Shrykes, he had long ago started to regard them as just another group of people, scraping by toiling the earth or attacking those that do.

Four long years… six since I woke up in this life… Heh, I think this one may actually be my longest… It certainly feels like decades since I woke up in the Red Keep…

Four years and more getting to know the serene but deadly Beyond…

The Lizard men looked a bit starved as they shuffled about, fixing tents or trying to sleep under the moonlight.

This group is a bit close to the forts though, unusually close...

No matter. We rescue our own.

Lieutenant Hu, his second in command, slithered to Joffrey's side with twenty five other men clutching their bows in between their arms. A Shryke watchman had ambled close in the meantime, too close to speak.

Joffrey raised his arm slightly, palm up. He touched his leg and aimed at the dune, four fingers out. Then he fisted it and touched his chest two times, showing five digits to his men.

Forty hostiles, five allies.

He crossed his arm towards his heart and then swiveled his hand as if to open a compartment to his chest, only to sweep the camp with his forearm and finally touch his forehead.

Engage and Rescue at my signal.

The barely audible sound of fingers tapping bows in acknowledgment reached Joffrey as his men slithered and positioned themselves atop the dune, still kissing the ground. Joffrey tapped his bow twice and they all crouched in unison, readying their bows.

His heart hammered within his chest as he tensed, preparing himself for the coming skirmish.

He picked his target, a Shryke sharpening a knife besides a mumbling Scout.

He clacked his tongue inside his mouth, a slight sound that was the first the Scouts taught him.

Engage.

One…

His feet positioned themselves unconsciously as he took out a broadhead arrow and nocked.

The wind was blowing strongly from the East, but Joffrey had chosen his men's positions well. The wind reached them from behind, an aide to their arrow's flight while their scent posed a negligible risk to the pathetic noses of the lizardmen.

Two…

A slight shift in the wind made Joffrey move his bow slightly to the right as he drew, feeling a slight prickling on his cheek from the arrow's mongoose's feathers.

Three…

He instinctively felt the wind and the string's tension, eying the Shryke almost in slow motion. The thung's of loosed strings resonated through the dune as the Scouts fired, almost as if in a volley.

Not quite like a volley though, the arrows rained down with lethal, targeted precision, piercing scales and flesh, unleashing cries of fear and agony.

Joffrey's arrow landed on the Shryke's upper chest. He tumbled back before collapsing, dropping the knife he'd been sharpening.

The Shrykes shrieked in anger and defiance, their famous screams instinctively sending shivers down Joffrey's spine as they charged haphazardly, running out of their camp in one and two's.

Their speed was incredible, quickly gaining ground with their bounding gaits, clawed fingers intent on tearing Joffrey and his men apart. The Shrykes were fearsome in a melee, but out here in the plains, the arrow was king.

The Shrykes fell down almost as soon as they cleared their tents. Joffrey shot one in the neck, then another one in the leg (a botch). All around him his men kept firing, keeping silent as they picked their targets and sent them tumbling down the steep dune.

The Shrykes soon stopped however, panic giving way to the realization about who they were fighting. You don't fight the enemy on a ground that plays to their advantage, an elemental lesson they taught Joffrey when they made him an officer, one the Shrykes also knew all too well after decades and centuries fighting the Scouts.

Can't let them fort up…

"Scouts! Diamonbacks now! Charge and Engage!" Joffrey shouted as he charged, arrow at the ready.

"DAWN!!!" roared the men as they charged, grouping themselves in fours, each man watching a cardinal point with bows readied.

Threeray Chin and two other men joined Joffrey, leaving him as the tip of the diamond as they dashed in between the tents. Shrykes ambushed them from behind every corner, but their reflexes were tuned to a heart string and the disorganized and famished lizardmen were soon exterminated to the last man, peppered with arrows before they could even graze their group.

They're shaken and disorganized, famished too… must have been the remains of a larger group on the run…

The 'diamonds' converged on the camp center, where the five captive scouts were sagging in relief.

"By the Night Lion… I thought we'd be crocodile food for sure…" said one the more lucid scouts.

"Well, they won't be eating much now… Captain Joffrey, Sixteenth Patrol" Joffrey introduced himself as he and Chin cut the man's bindings.

"Lieutenant Feng sir, Twentyfirst Patrol. We just bumped into them during a sandstorm and they spooked. Before we knew it they'd taken out Captain Tsin and half my Patrol. They were so scared and hurried they didn't even stop to loot the bodies…" The half sun whispered, shaking his head as Joffrey's Body Scribe eased him down to the floor and checked him for wounds.

"Captain! We've got a live one!" said someone from the side.

Joffrey turned and walked, quickly coming to a stop in front of the Shryke he'd shot. He was surrounded by four scouts, all aiming with their bows at point blank range.

The Shrykes, while possessing bulked up legs, sibilant tongues, long claws and plenty of scales… were still recognizably men. The man's narrow, sharp green eyes were crazed as he rocked from side to side, his motion slowing down as he bled out.

He kept repeating a phrase, hissing in the whispery tongue of the Shrykes, a mix of sibilant hisses and unnervingly normal sounding vowels.

He finally stopped as he relaxed, hands unclenching their long claws and his eyes closing.

"What was he saying, sir?" asked Chin as the rest of the Scouts lowered their bows.

"'Burn the bodies'" whispered Joffrey as he gazed at the dead shryke in confusion.

-.PD.-

"That's the fourth time this month…" muttered Jin as he walked around a table with a big map of the Beyond. A map of what they knew of it, of course. It showed the Five Forts and its network of fortresses, known settlements in the lands of the Shrykes and even the distant Bonetown, right beside The Dry Deep.

Joffrey 's rescue of the captured Scouts had almost merited a promotion according to Jin, another one on his lightning fast progression through the Scout's hierarchy. Joffrey had told him to stop with the games and admit the real reason… The Beyond was turning more dangerous by the week, and someone needed to replace all the officers that were getting killed in ambushes and raids… or simply disappearing without a trail.

Coronel Jin, had not disputed his point.

"And it won't be the last" Said Major Xu, removing the chip that represented the Twentyfirst Patrol from the board. The Red Gorilla had been another beneficiary of the sudden spike of danger.

Jin, Xu, Joffrey and another ten assorted officers were gathered around the table, musing about the increased activity all over the land of the Shrykes.

"Something's got them running scared" said Joffrey.

"Could be a mass migration from some tribe far to the east…" pondered Captain Han.

"Or an invasion force barreling through the Grey Waste" said Major Xu.

"Either way, we need to know. We need to send a big scouting force North East… soon preferably" Joffrey pondered out loud.

"Agreed" Said Jin as the rest of the officers nodded. "The General has already been informed of the situation by condor. He ordered me to don't do anything drastic while he's not here, High Command is still in talks with General Pol Qo's emissaries, trying to assure him of our neutrality in the civil war, so we'll wait for now. I want supplies readied and the patrols doubled though, we must be ready for anything" he commanded, his usual levity replaced by a deadly seriousness in an instant, a usual transformation which the soldiers had acknowledge when they acclaimed him, more than a decade ago.

The 'Laughing Tiger' they had called him.

The assembled officers saluted placing their fists over their hearts, the uncertain danger on the horizon leaving everyone's hairs on edge

-.PD.-

Plans for a deep scouting mission fell by the wayside as things got increasingly hectic throughout the next few months. Missing Patrols, reports of Winged Men fleeing to the south, entire shryke towns abandoning their homes and moving towards the Bleeding Sea…

There was something in the air, even the raiders could smell it. The great bands of eastern Horse Bandits and Camel Tribes had tripled their attacks, increasing the Dawn Scout's casualties even more. During the next few months Joffrey fired more arrows than the rest of his lives combined, getting quite a few scars in the process. In between them and his growing body he sometimes didn't recognize himself when he gazed upon a still pond.

The attacks seemed to be reaching a crescendo when they suddenly abated… the feared great armies of horsechiefs that High Command had been so worried about never arrived, and discarded plans for a deep scouting mission into the Grey Waste were reexamined…

-.PD.-

"You always leave the center unguarded. Corners are all well and good but they won't save you this time" Said Captain Biming with a smirk, removing a load of beads from the center as he finally closed them off with one of his own.

Joffrey snorted, hand moving from its resting position atop his crossed legs and placing a bead of his own, taking out three black ones. "You overestimate the center, it is unimportant in the grand scheme of things" Joffrey shot back, eyes clouded as he thought about his next five moves. Captain Biming, the grey bearded commander of Lin's Vigil was a tricky opponent, always with a move under his sleeve. They'd been having regular Paigo battles ever since Joffrey and the rest of the Sixteenth Patrol had been relocated to Lin's Vigil, a stout little keep that kept watch over a small, thick forest that rose like a weed around the nearby oasis. It protected a small patch of greenery amongst the deserted foothills of the Mountains of the Morn, a rare water supply Scouts made full use off when ranging around the area.

"Did you really see a Winged Man here? Last month?" Joffrey suddenly asked the question that had been bugging him.

The old Garrison captain chuckled as he moved another piece. "You are the sixth scout to ask me that question. It was nothing spectacular really; I was looking through that window when I spotted the three of them. They had short legs and their wings were really long, wider than their whole body sideways… they weren't that scary" he said.

"How so? A Shryke is one thing, they're pretty common around these parts for one… But a Winged Man? This side of the Morn? You must have been startled at least" Joffrey wondered as he retreated, white beads moving backwards but being defeated in detail despite his efforts.

"Not that rare, there's a few scant settlements around the back hills, amongst the tallest of the foothills where it rains a bit more… but that's not the reason they didn't look dangerous" Biming said, scratching his trimmed whiskers.

Joffrey waited for the Captain to make his move, but the hand that had been about to grab a black bead suddenly halted. It thoughtfully returned to Biming's lap, atop his crossed legs.

The captain looked at the window as he spoke. "They didn't look dangerous because they were wounded. They were ragged and bleeding, and wings or not their expressions were as clear as day. They were scared. Terrified even. They were fleeing south in such a hurry that one of them crash landed as I watched, and the others didn't even look back… they just beat those huge wings faster…"

Joffrey was nonplussed. "They just left their comrade there? Didn't even take his belongings? For that matter, you saw it crash? The body must be somewhere on the outskirts of the forest then…" Joffrey said.

"They didn't even look back... As for the body..." here the Captain chuckled. "The men are planning on ambushing your boys tonight with it. To 'see if the crazed bastards shoot or hump the thing' I believe was how Tworay Kim put it" Biming said with a smirk.

Joffrey chuckled at that. "I'll be looking forward to it…" he said as he thought, gazing at the steadily diminishing white beads.

Everyone's running scared from something… but we don't know what…

The game proceeded in silence for a good twenty minutes before Joffrey spoke again "You think they'll let us go soon?" he asked the captain. He didn't need to elaborate more, the whole Legion was waiting with baited breath for the order, the Scouts most of all. If anyone out in the edges of the Beyond could take a good guess at it, it was Captain Kai Biming. He was an old garrison hand which had denied a promotion one too many times and had finally been shunted to a far off post and forgotten, though Biming certainly had a smell for the internal politics of the Five Forts. Maybe that was why he'd refused to keep going up… a wise man.

"It'll be soon, no doubt about it. They say General Pol Qo--" he suddenly coughed "Excuse me, the Orange Emperor " he drawled the name with a heavy dose of loathing, "has finally accepted the Five Forts neutrality in the Civil War. We finally have room to flex our muscles and not send half the empire into a panic…"

Joffrey snorted again as he played a bead "Until yet another would-be-emperor calls his banners and craps his… how many colors are left anyway…? Until he craps his whatever colored robe in fear of fifty thousand legion katanas marching from the northern frontier… and we have to spend another five months doing nothing to calm all the combatant yet again about not upsetting the 'status quo'…" He said, laying back on his seat with a sight as he enjoyed the view from the small window, looking at the small trail that snaked away from the hill and the keep into the lone forest.

"All the more reason to do it now then, before the Empire buckles again… Every moment Command delays you and the rest of the Scouts is another moment my soldiers won't know what's coming for them…" said Biming, placing a final bead on the board.

"…And routed. I told you the center was important, all men need a leader" he said with a chuckle as he won the game, but he was barely hearing him.

"Something's going on" Joffrey said as he looked through the window at a speeding horseman, riding as hard as he could towards the keep.

Biming stood up quickly and looked too. "I'd get your men ready, this reeks of trouble" he said as he put on the helmet he'd left beside the board.

"I'll get to it" Joffrey said as he grabbed his bow and checked his katana was still strapped to his side, jogging down the stairs.

"Scouts! Ready for action!" he bellowed as he ran past the small room were Orange Section was resting. Red Section, the other half of his Patrol, was out there in the Morn's foothills, too far out to help.

He arrived at the small courtyard almost at the same time as the front gate's portcullis opened, letting in a bloodied rider with a Scout's cloak.

The gates quickly closed behind him as Joffrey approached the man with a knife, wary of a raider trap. The 'bloodied messenger' was a favorite of theirs.

He took off the man's hood and cursed.

"Hold on Bai, hold on" he whispered at the Scout as helped him off his panting horse and unto the ground. The scout threeray had two arrows jutting out from his belly and another one on his leg, spilling blood everywhere. He was barely alive.

What's Bai doing here? He's under Han's command--

…Fuck.

Captain Han commands the Eleventh Patrol… our relief force…

"… help… oasis… help… oasis…" he kept repeating those two words every breath… Joffrey was not sure Bai had even realized he'd gotten here.

He must have been repeating those two words the whole way…

Bai's breath suddenly hitched, only to let out a deep sight. His face slacked, the fear and pain giving way to peace.

Joffrey cursed, closing Bai's eyes as a soldier rung the small bronze alarm bell, calling up the Garrison to arms.

Eleventh Patrol must have been ambushed on the oasis, Han's men must be fighting for their lives right now…

Han had been the one to teach him how the Scouts rode their horses, and the friendship they'd made had not diminished with the years. There was no way in hell Joffrey was going to let him die alone in the middle of nowhere.

The first few scouts were barely dashing out of the keep, strapping their leather armor when Joffrey jumped on top of his horse, cutting the rope with his knife and riding it towards the front gate. "Lieutenant Hu!" he bellowed to his back, "Scouts ambushed on the oasis, arm up and take command, hit the attackers from behind while I run bait!" he commanded as he stopped in front of the opening gates. The 'Bait and Knife' was one of the favorite tactics that Coronel Jin had taught him, though the use of the force's commander as the bait was usually frowned upon. Not that Joffrey cared.

Xiang will do well, but I can't trust anyone else with this, he thought as Xiang shouted back acknowledgement. "ARCHERS TO THE WALL! ARCHERS TO THE WALL!" bellowed Biming as he jogged to Joffrey's side, gesticulating at the garrison soldiers emerging from the keep. "I can give you forty more riders if you wait ten minutes!" he told Joffrey as the portcullis finally opened up entirely.

"No time, besides you'll need them if it's a distraction and they strike at the keep. Send a rider for reinforcements if we don't come back within the hour!" he said before spurring his horse onwards.

He rode down the snaking path and into the forest. The pale brown trees swayed with a heavy wind as he entered the forest, tilting and bumping their branches against each other almost in distress. The forest was not too long, but the deep groundwater that made part of the oasis ensured that the trees that grew there grew big.

Joffrey had scouted the path many times before, so he knew were every bit of hazard was. He spurred his horse at a dead gallop, gently steering it long before they crashed against the occasional fallen tree or rock.

Suddenly the trees cleared into a tiny canyon, only a few meters deep but still a perfect spot for an ambush.

No choice, speed is of the essence and I need to get any ambushers on my tail so that Hu can gut them…

Sure enough, he was on the middle of the small canyion when several figures shambled from the sides of it, sporting ragged Scout cloaks.

Clever bastards, though that ensemble isn't fooling anyone…

The raiders started shooting, and soon Joffrey could hear the sibilant whispers of mongoose feathers flying over his head.

Fuck, those are Scout arrows. A Legionnaire got killed for those…

Joffrey's eyes unfocused slightly, and he swiveled his head incessantly from side to side, keeping all the archer's positions on his head.

To predict…

He ducked as an arrow passed above him, almost piercing his skull. Joffrey snapped an arrow out of the quiver tied to the horse's saddle, aimed and loosed in quick succession, each action taking a second. The force of the impact sent one of the archers tumbling back out of sight, and Joffrey moved his horse to the left of the trail, avoiding two arrows that would have pierced his horse's chest.

Do not try to see the arrow in flight! Jin shouted in his ear. See where it is being aimed!

The Coronel's advice was a bit difficult to follow when attacked by several sides however…

He loosed again, this time nailing one of the archers in the head. There was no time to contemplate his work however, he quickly gazed back to his left and cursed when he saw another archer rising from the canyon's edge, bow ready.

Joffrey slipped to the horse's right, dangling from the side with a foot and a hand as the arrow skimmed past his now empty saddle. He pulled up from the classic 'Lazy Seagull' with a grunt of effort, getting back on his saddle and shooting at the offending archer. The arrow took him in the arm, though the raider didn't seem at all worried by the wound as he nocked another arrow.

They say they sell powders in K'Dath capable of making a man immune to pain and fear… Hopefully I'm not about to run into a bunch of those maniacs right now…

But Joffrey was already through, back into the forest. He smirked when he saw the remaining archers following him in the distance, but he quickly focused on the task at hand.

He could already hear the sound of battle, and he let that guide him towards the oasis.

With a jump, his horse barreled through the bushes and he finally arrived at the scene from the hells.

The forest stopped at about ten meters from the small lake, and Joffrey was not prepared for the sight of Han's last stand.

Two flipped wagons made a crude perimeter between themselves and a few fallen trees that bordered the edge of the forest. Joffrey could see what was left of Han's Patrol there, bows discarded in favor of katanas and lumber axes?

All around them were scores of… men in various states of decomposition, some sporting the sun of the Five Forts, while others looked more similar to Shrykes than to Legionnaires.

Even less prepared for the sight had been Joffrey's horse. It whined and buckled, waving its hooves into the air as couple dozen of the corpses suddenly scrambled towards Joffrey at different speeds and gaits, less cohesive than a mob and all the more terrifying for it. His horse panicked, rearing backward and falling, whining in maddened fear.

They must have been twenty meters away when Joffrey landed on the ground, his horse tumbling to the other side and scrambling away, bleeding and terrified.

Wha.. what the… gods… oh gods…

Joffrey scrambled to his feet and loosed the arrow he had nocked before at the mob. It had some effect… when it took off a skeleton's skull. He shouldn't have bothered though, the rest of the thing kept shambling on just fine.

His heart hammered from within as his chest seemed to thrum with a heavy feeling.

His hand rose to his back but grasped only air.

My quiver was strapped to the horse, he remembered.

Joffrey backtracked desperately, looking for a choke point for a last stand of his own. There were more than twenty corpses barreling in his direction, and if he didn't find a place to hold them off he'd be joining them soon enough.

Talk about being a distraction! Joffrey thought irreverently as he ran towards a workable spot. The remains of the old watchtower were not much, just a couple of large stone slabs arrayed in a semicircular pattern, facing the lake. He ran up the very light and short slope and squeezed through the hole in between the two stones.

He cursed when he looked at the back of the ruin. Or rather the lack of it.

Needs must, thought Joffrey desperately as he took out his katana and delivered a sundering blow on the closest of the corpses that had been following him and was now trying to get in through the hole.

It's just a matter of time till the circle through the back… he thought in a panic as he kept bashing skulls and kicking at the shambling corpses. The katana sliced them to bits but Joffrey would have kissed Baelish for something with a bit more heft at that moment.

What are these things!? How!? It shouldn't be possible!? He thought as fought, barely containing his panic.

He'd thought he'd seen magic? That had been nothing!

He kicked one back down, always looking back to see if the things thought to outflank him.

He wanted to scream when he saw one that did, shambling on all fours as it climbed the slight slope and reached the high ground of the ruin's floor.

Guess this is what the Jade Captain would have regarded as 'not pathetic' he thought in a haze.

Joffrey's chest felt like it was going to burst when he pivoted towards the flanking corpse and delivered two cutting strikes, getting the thing's arms and kicking him back down, only to pivot again and bash one in the skull who'd been trying to squeeze through the 'entrance'.

I'll be backstabbed in ten seconds at this rate.

He pivoted again and cut another flanking corpse in half, but he could see three others behind that one, shambling up the slight slope. He turned back to the entrance and saw that one had almost squeezed through. He smashed it with the katana's pommel as the thrumming in his chest caused him to clench his teeth in pain.

Surrounded by the undead but died from a heart attack… pathetic… he thought in a daze as the thrumming on his chest reached unbearable levels of pain.

Sometimes I just want to scream, he thought, almost feeling already the corpse's weapons biting into his back.

He screamed as he kept slashing and slashing and slashing at the entrance. He stopped screaming when he suddenly realized its sound was being drowned by a much deeper, ear shattering roar.

He turned back and saw a lion the size of a horse crashing into one of the flanking corpses, tearing it to shreds with its huge fangs and shredding another one with long, ivory claws.

The lion turned, face an inch from Joffrey's, gazing at him with pale green eyes which combined sharply with its silver colored fur and its blonde mane, giving it an otherworldly air.

Joffrey had already given himself to fate when he found an angry, hulking, silver colored lion at his back. "KILL CORPSES NOW! EAT ME LATER!" he told it as he turned back and kept stabbing and cutting, the veritable pile of corpses bunching in and trying to claw their way inside.

Surrounded by the undead but eaten by his house's heraldry. Slightly better! He thought with a manic chuckle as the pure pressure of corpses swarmed through the hole and pushed him back. He parried a rusty katana and then a broken axe only to retaliate with a swift cut, but now that he was no longer bottling up the 'entrance' the corpses were bunching inside the ruins.

His back bumped the lion's back paws as he retreated, parrying and countering as quickly as he'd ever had. Back to back, Joffrey and the lion pivoted perfectly, turning and delivering strikes of raw power and fine skill, of swift claws and sharp steel, turning in circles and fighting in perfect synchronization as they moved in an entrancing dance of death. Joffrey shouted with all his might as he turned and parried a corpse's sword up high, leaving just the right space for the lion's claws to barrel in from below and cut it at its legs with a bone rattling roar.

Joffrey pivoted yet again, this time going to the back end of the ruin, but there were no corpses left. He almost fell on his knees in relief when he saw forty or so living legionaries below, some of them making sure the corpses below stayed dead, hacking them apart as a few cavalrymen dashed by, securing the perimeter. Captain Biming had decided to screw his suggestion and help out after all…

Most of them though were looking up at Joffrey in varying degrees of awe.

What? Keep securing the perimeter you idiots! Joffrey thought, coming down from the adrenaline high, before he remembered about the little detail at his back.

Ah, right…

He turned back, lightning fast, but the lion was nowhere to be found. The big paw prints on the ground and the dismembered bodies were the only evidence that Joffrey hadn't hallucinated the whole thing.

Life's full of surprises… he thought, still somewhat dazed as he registered the dozens of cuts on his body and a painfully creeping, almost lethargic haze that started to envelop him from the inside out.

Suddenly one of the soldiers below raised a fist to the air.

"Silver Lion!" he shouted.

"The Silver Lion!!!" suddenly shouted another one.

"Silver Lion!!! Silver Lion!!!!! SILVER LION!!! SILVER LION!!!!!! SILVER LION!!!!!" they roared, acclaiming him as they pumped their fists into the air with each repetition.

Huh, could be worse. I was afraid they'd eventually acclaim me as 'Fumbling Peacock' or something like that. Damned Scout's sense of humor.

The shouting and cheering seemed distorted to Joffrey's ear, and when he tried to focus on the why of that he felt he was suddenly falling backwards, falling into an endless black void…

…

-.PD.-