John meticulously sifted through the profiles, each file a summary of their life and skills with some explaining how they had become slaves. His mind was trying to pick not only those with strength but those who seemed to have the best reasons and personality, looking for versatility but would also provide decent stability. From the array of options, he settled on five individuals, a blend he hoped would reinforce and support the foundations of his slowly growing camp.
Four were classified as 'war slaves,' their pasts filled with conflict that honed their skills in the fires of survival. First was a strategist, someone who he hoped would be able to anticipate their enemies next moves, a crucial brain for the battles he knew were coming, things that he would like to help teach him such things. Next was a weapon master, a direct counterpoint who was an unadulterated master of combat whose expertise would be invaluable on the front lines, back lines along with filling whatever role was needed. Lastly from the war slaves where a pair of mages: one a dedicated supporter, capable of giving buffs and healing wounds and the other, a long-range attacker whose destructive power could turn the tide of a skirmish according to the file. This quartet he hoped would bring a balanced mix of forces to replace his old defenders.
The fifth choice was the one that stood apart. He wasn't a warrior but a 'debt slave,' identified by the archaic title of an 'orator.' This individual had an uncanny knack for persuasion and public speaking, represented a different kind of weapon he knew could be invaluable. Some things required a sharp tongue over brute force, covering an area he felt he had no skill at all in. His own past attempts at communication well in a leadership role in various games and even in school proving disastrous and the last event with his old fighters further reinforcing that fact for him, it had left him with a deep-seated distrust of his own voice in matters that needed him to do the talking, he felt if he had to stand up to other forces he could do it but when it came to his own he felt it would be better to have a figure head of sorts to do the talking, a public face, to negotiate and convince without his inherent awkwardness and bluntness getting in the way when delicate words where needed. This orator would serve as the administrative backbone, the voice of authority in his absence who answered only to him, ensuring the camp's operations and external relations were managed with finesse and care.
Moments later, the heavy door to the selection chamber hissed open and seven figures filed in, led by Peter, whose usual jovial demeanor seemed slightly subdued. John's gaze immediately scanned the group, recognizing the profiles he'd just reviewed.
The first five were the ones he chose after a lot of care. Leading them was the strategist, an elderly man with an unmistakably Eastern bearing draped in a dark, flowing robe and a wide-brimmed hat that partially obscured a sharp bur intelligent face that was offset by a thin, wispy mustache. His eyes gleaming with an unsettling acuity. Behind him strode the weapon master, a formidable figure whose youth belied his hardened appearance. He was broad-shouldered and completely bald with a powerful torso covered in a canvas of intersecting scars, a testament to countless battles. He wore only a simple pair of dark, sturdy pants, his muscular physique speaking volumes about his raw strength.
Next came the mages, a pair of women whose presence brought a flicker of surprise to John's brow; he quickly recalled their files and realizing their gender had indeed been left blank, only that there was a connection between them which added to his reason for choosing both of them. They were twins, a striking contrast in their presentation. One was a blonde, her hair a cascade of pale gold and clad in a deep blue robe that seemed to subtly shimmer with energy. The other was a redhead, her fiery locks mirroring the vibrant green and red robe she wore seemingly perfectly complementing her. Both possessed remarkably soft, almost gentle faces, yet their eyes held an unyielding hardness and a focused intensity that spoke of power. Each gripped a finely carved staff, their hands resting comfortably around the polished wood, the few chips and marks hinting at countless hours of practice and innate talent.
Bringing up the rear of his selections was the orator he selected. He was deceptively youthful and impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. His dark hair was slicked back with meticulous precision, his face held an almost innocent gentleness, framed by a smile that seemed engineered to disarm and put anyone immediately at ease. Unlike the previous four, he seemed to exude an aura of calm confidence.
It was the final two individuals however, who truly caught his attention, their presence unexpected and at first believed to be a pair of Peters attendants. He turned a questioning look to Peter though when he saw them stand straight with the other slaves receiving a complicated smile that only served to deepen his confusion.
"Remember how I mentioned that some of the available individuals but rather than choosing them they would choose their own master?" Peter began, his voice dropping slightly, carrying hints of nervousness "Well, these two fall squarely into that rather unique category. They specifically expressed a strong desire to speak with you in order to see if you are, in their exact words 'what they're looking for.'" Peter's lingering smile hinted at far more unsaid, a subtle warning perhaps, that these two were not to be taken lightly, it caused him to feel a distinct prickle of unease. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to be 'what they're looking for,' especially given the fresh wounds of his past leadership failures where others had put their trust in him.
John shifted his gaze to the two newcomers, his initial confusion giving way to more confusion. They were indeed a stark and striking contrast to each other and to everyone else in the room.
The first appeared incredibly young, almost childlike, yet there was an ancient stillness to her. Her hair was a cascade of pure, snow-white that was so long it nearly brushed across the floor, lending to an ethereal, almost ghostly quality. Her complexion was equally pale, a translucent white that highlighted the crimson of her eyes. Despite her unnerving appearance, she was remarkably short, her head only reaching just below John's chest. She wore a simple, unadorned white dress which seemed to amplify her delicate stature and almost doll-like features. There was no staff, no obvious weapon, only an unnerving quietness as she seemed to try and look not at him but through him.
Beside her stood the second unexpected member. Her hair was a rich, brownish-orange and from its depths, two distinctly foxy ears twitched with clear curiosity. A thick, fuzzy tail matching the color of her hair swished slowly and gracefully behind her in an almost hypnotic rhythm. She was clad in a loosely wrapped kimono that was clearly designed to highlight her curves and assets with an undeniable allure. Her eyes where a piercing crystal blue that sparkled with a bold, mischievous glint as they leisurely yet deliberately inspected John from head to toe, as if weighing his worth. There was also a strange and seductive confidence about her that seemed to compliment a predatory elegance along with a faint, seemingly unspoken challenge. These were not slaves; they were a pair who held their own elements of power and control and they had chosen to present themselves to see if he was worthy of them.
John cut to the chase, his voice a mix of confusion and irritation. "Alright, what reason could you two possibly have for wanting to come with me? I'm not trying to sound ungrateful, but I genuinely can't understand or think of a single reason for it. And frankly, I don't know how much time I have left in this mall before I need to return, so I was hoping to wrap things up as quickly as possible. I'm already taking on a lot of responsibility with these five," he gestured to his chosen group, who stood patiently, watching the bizarre exchange but also seemingly judging him to try and figure out their new master. "I don't know what you're capable of and I'm not in a position to take on more dependents I can't guarantee safety for and I doubt I could give you the kind of luxuries you seemingly have been enjoying, you two are clearly a special lot compared to the ones I chose, no offense it's just they seemed to have had an entirely different kind of life." His remark earning a slight glare from the red-haired mage but her sister gave her a small smack on the arm before nodding to him.
The fox-eared girl's mischievous smile only widened, her crystal blue eyes twinkling with amusement as John's gaze met her own again. "Oh, we can absolutely handle ourselves if things get messy master," she purred, her voice a low, melodic hum that seemed to vibrate with playful confidence. "I can clearly see that particular worry etched right across your face. But honestly well I appreciate your blunt honesty and concern for our safety it's only made you far more interesting. After all," she leaned forward conspiratorially, her tail giving a languid swish, "who in their right mind could possibly resist a woman like me? Well," she paused, a finger tapping her chin thoughtfully, "a gay man might be able to I suppose, but you don't exactly seem to swing that way to me, you don't have that kind of air to you and I can easily tell." She concluded with a knowing wink. "Yes, that definitely seals it for me. I want you to be my master and to see how this goes!" She finished with a small, theatrical bow, her saucy smile still firmly in place seemingly unfazed by John's concerns or the realities he'd just laid out. John found himself completely bewildered by her seeming audacity.
The short girl, in stark contrast to her companion's playful flirtation, spoke in a flat, emotionless monotone, her crimson eyes fixed on him with unnerving intensity. As she spoke, the brief flash of elongated fangs confirmed John's growing suspicion of her vampiric nature. "This one just wishes to know two things," she said plainly, her head tilting slightly to the side, a gesture that was clearly a habit. "Your answers will allow this one to decide if she wishes to trust you and accompany you or not regardless of your protests and objections. First, this one wishes for you to explain how you not only harbor multiple souls within you, but also how you have manages to remove the possibilities of conflict not only between them but with your own as well, no you seem to have taken it further, you have managed to blend and build there's into your original soul, how have you managed to do such a thing? That is this one's first question; this one's second question is for you to tell this one why there are remnants of a god fragment within you. It is clear to this one that it has been removed recently, but how is it that something such as that could happen to a lowly human? It is not like when they bless but rather rooted far deeper, seemingly having tied to your soul." Her questions were delivered with a chilling precision, cutting through the teasing atmosphere the fox girl had created and laying bare some of the secrets he felt weren't meant to be known.
John felt a cold unease creep over him. Her perception was terrifyingly accurate, probing at the deepest, most dangerous aspects of his existence and seemingly having a form of soul sight. He chose his next words words carefully, offering only the barest slivers of truth towards them. "They're my friends," he began, his voice firm, "and they're blended with my own soul to help me survive after an encounter with something monstrously strong." He paused, his gaze hardening slightly. "The remnants you're talking about, it's because a new friend recently removed something relating to that very same monstrously strong entity that was apparently slowly influencing me, or from something that was influencing my recent grief and magnifying it well seemingly also twisting me. I don't want to speak further on that now though. You will simply need to be content with those answers." He said with finality.
Without a change in her monotone delivery or any discernible emotion, the short girl gave him one more scrutinizing look before speaking. "This one has decided she shall grace you with her company. However, she expects you to willing to release her should she ever request it." John let out a short sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "And if I refuse you will still follow regardless like the fox?" He asked receiving a nod in response as she kept gazing at him.
"I really don't want to take the two of you with me," John continued, turning exasperatedly to Peter. "Don't I actually get a choice in this?" Peter merely offered a helpless shrug. "No one has actually said no in a situation like this before." He admitted, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "But honestly? I think they'd just try to follow you anyway, even if you did flat-out refuse. I'd strongly recommend you just take them with you if for no other reason than to be able to keep track of them." John's frown deepened at that. It seemed his options had narrowed considerably, making any arguments he could make pointless.
Turning back to the unwavering pair, he spoke with determination to try and paint the bleakest picture possible in hopes of deterring them. "If you two are truly intent on following me, then you need to be fully aware of a few crucial things. Firstly, my world is currently in an apocalyptic state so you can't expect amazing food, comfortable living conditions or any semblance of luxury. Secondly, once I return, I'm planning to begin an attack on a large controlling group for revenge, it's something I recently decided upon now that I feel it's possible. I won't have the time or capacity to babysit either of you. You must be able to defend yourselves independently when needed or at least be of immediate, tangible use. Lastly, it's highly probable I will lose the last of the small group I currently have after I've returned, leaving me with only the individuals you see here and perhaps two others at most. The rest of my small group will likely depart because of my own past actions and that should make it clear that I'm not a good leader." He laid out his stark reality, hoping the honesty however self-deprecating, would be able to convince the pair away from following him.
The small girl remained utterly unmoved. "This one does not care," she reiterated, her crimson eyes unwavering. "She has made her choice and is rather interested in the one she has chosen as her Master. This one finds there honestly refreshing." Beside her, the fox girl nodded with such rapid enthusiasm that John felt a flicker of genuine concern she might hurt her neck and showing him that the warnings had been utterly useless.
With a heavy sigh and a sense of resigned defeat he turned back to Peter. "Get me the contracts and paperwork for all of them please," he instructed. It was abundantly clear that the two uninvited additions wouldn't relent and would follow him regardless of his choice so he decided to follow Peter's advice to at least have the faintest sense of control when it came to them.