The Lieutenant said she would come get Horus when the commander was ready so he returned to the remains of his tent with a frown. The fire had burned away whatever he owned in this world.
He had been interested in finding out whose position within the narrative he was occupying. Another thing he learnt in Formation school was that the identity of your character within the dungeon was also important to the quest.
He gathered up some material, like a blackened necklace and a crude wooden mask with half its face burnt away, and stuffed them into his Bag of Holding. So casually was one's identity erased. Horus swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth.
His mind wandered to the battle. He had equipped his Bag of Holding instead of his dagger because it held all his belongings and he didn't have a good place to leave it.
Thank Paradise I didn't leave it here.
Bags of Holding could store an insane amount of things and still be light enough to carry, and he could draw exactly what he was looking for every time he placed his hand in the bag. Losing it would be almost as bad as the Master-tier dagger.
He rose just as he sensed people approaching, and judging from the sound of their footsteps, it was for a fight.
Placing a hand on his sword, Horus turned with an almost placid expression. His blue and purple eyes lazily studied the people in front of him, calculating how hard of a fight this would be without alerting them to the fact he was ready to kill.
The leader of the group, Captain Sever, had a putrid sneer on his slim, barely shaved face. The crimson's light made his expression look deadlier. His sword wasn't drawn but Horus could count a few concealed daggers in coat.
At this distance and stance, Horus could react to an attack from Sever and pull out his dagger to resist a magic attack while also stabbing the man or parrying an attack from his second sword.
[Title: Captain Sever]
[Rarity: Adept]
[Description: A greedy and impatient son of a noble, trying to gain a commendation for himself before his service time ends]
The rest of his lackeys seemed more hesitant to attack. They were people Horus had led and saved during the battle. Even if their Captain had a vendetta, their fighting spirit was weak. If he killed Sever, he predicted that they would be slow to react and give him a chance to kill them too.
Sever began to sign something, when Horus asked with a confused expression.
"What are you doing?"
The words seemed to send shivers down their spines. Immediately they were looking around to see if anyone else had heard them. Sever pointed at his head as if to ask if Horus was mad.
We aren't supposed to speak? The name Penitents and the Lieutenant's system profile had struck him as strange. Were they fighting here to absolve their sins?
With a deity called the Goddess of Silence, he could see the people of Emora using an oath of silence as a way towards absolution.
He understood what was happening now, but he didn't know their sign language. So when Sever kept making angry gestures at him, all he could do was shrug his shoulders at the captain.
The system didn't chime in at all which was also concerning.
Seeing them up close, Horus could see the differences between humans and Emorans. Sever's arms were longer than his and his shoulders were wider. Horus would close the distance to reduce his reach advantage.
His traps are almost like actual wings.
And his skin was greyer than a normal human's. So it made Sever's red face look a bit comical.
Horus titled his head to show he still didn't understand and Sever finally snapped, drawing his blades smoothly.
Forcing back a smile, Horus reached for his sword too, but the Lieutenant's voice interrupted them.
"That's enough for you, Sever," Carrison's glare and her scarred visage made even Sever paused, then sheath his sword.
He gave Horus one last promising look before he turned and left.
Carrison turned and walked away, not bothering to tell Horus to follow her. He jogged to her side, lingering just a bit back.
Their walk through the camp was depressing. Too many injured in the huge, open tent on their left, and people digging mass graves on their right.
Horus sighed unintentionally. Such a waste of lives. If only they were a properly trained force, and not just conscripted sinners with fancy equipment. If only their choice of camp was smarter.
"You have an issue, soldier?" Carrison asked without turning back. "... you can speak."
With her confirmation, he said blankly. "No."
His reservations on how the Commander ran his operations was none of her business, and in situations you didn't know much about, saying less was often enough.
They arrived at the Commander's tent. A large burgundy tent with strong metal stakes and people coming in and out with papers and materials. Two guards in ethereal blue armor, similar to the Lieutenant's, stood on guard.
Horus stopped, waiting for permission, then following when Carrison irritably waved for him to enter. The inside of the tent was lit by candles, which illuminated a large desk and people sitting on the floor writing. At the head of the desk was the commander.
And he was everything Horus expected from the son of a god. He stood at seven feet off just a casual measurement and his lengthy arms and shoulders were packed with muscles. He wore no armor but Horus doubted he could cut into the grey skin of the man.
Most interesting was his eyes, which weren't circular like others. They were a blue four pointed star, glossing over a document on his table.
His voice was like a tolling bell, heavy and solemn. "Send it."
One of the men kneeling jumped to their feet and took the document before flying past Horus out of the tent. Finally the demigod looked up to him.
"You have done much in this past battle."
[Title: Commander Gestill]
[Rarity: Heroic]
[Description: A long-lived demigod that has dedicated his entire life to a task sorely unappreciated by his peers.]
Horus bowed. "It's my honour, your highness."
The room's aura changed slightly. The people kneeling glanced at him with irritation and even Carrison's lips twitched.
They don't like that. Noted.
"You're new here?" the Commander asked without a trace of offense. "Where is your enlistment notice?"
"Burnt away when a bomb landed in my tent, along with the rest of my belongings."
"How terrible," the Commander said absentmindedly. His eyes studied Horus' sword. "You will be compensated."
Demon's blood. Why is he looking at my sword like that? I hope this isn't an issue set up by the system.
It was a rare artifact after all. Celestial steel came from another world, harvested from a gate in Nevada. The sword had been crafted when he was born and placed in his crib. He would never surrender it.
The Commander's eyes left his sword and his tone became more formal. "Your skill is admirable. My [Battlefield Orchestrator] skill marked you immediately when you arrived. I also confirmed you were new, but nothing in your enlistment notice told me why you were so skilled, or how you could kill an Adept in single combat."
He knew the Commander's next question, but wasn't too panicked.
"So, Penitent Horus, can you enlighten me?"
[Dialogue prompt detected]
The world froze around him. Even the looming demigod slowed to a pause, hand swishing through the air.
He couldn't let out a relieved breath, but Horus was thankful that the system's dialogue function had finally activated. He thought it would never come.
[Dialogue options]
[A: Commander, as you already know, my father was an assassin. He trained me in his ways and gave me the unique poison I used against the Berserker.]
[B: I learnt from a family member. As for the Berserker, I used a poison I noticed in the forest trees, sir]
[C: I had some training before being conscripted, sir… I borrowed a poison from my squadmate to use on the Beserker.]
[D: Use your own personal ideas.]