Trapped In Another World With No Magic

Chapter 17: The Strange Occurrences Around Fort Peony

A week has passed. The Fort nicknamed ‘the Flower Garden’ rests at the northernmost valleyway through the treacherous mountains dividing the known world. Fort Peony is almost entirely manned by women of many of the allied races, all tried and tested warriors in their own right, though this post serves political and ceremonial purposes more than combat. Its difficult terrain on both sides limits the advancement of troops, making it the relatively safest ‘Frontline’ fortress in the world.

It also happens to be the place to which an otherworldly stranger was banished from his kingdom; a relatively disposable body meant for the machine of war. His alleged crime makes him lower than scum to many of the personnel on base, but his personality doesn't match the crime at all. The irony of those claiming he must like men due to avoiding the women most of the time is lost on most.

And, since heading into the demon wildlands a week ago, he hasn't returned.

Treia watches the forest ahead, feeling guilty that she never got to the truth she knows is hidden. He disappeared after it was revealed that he repaired the magic devices around the base. She has mixed feelings, since she knows what was said about him, but knowing in spite of that, he made things better for everyone is difficult to reconcile.

A handful of bodies emerge from the woods in formation, and Gwen twitches, quickly losing the spark of hope. It's one of the returning recon teams, who've been deployed for over a month. Treia approaches the gate, and the leader calls out, "Recon Team Sable, returning from recon. Eight individuals." She names off her subordinates, and the watchstander compares them to the recon log's departures.

"Confirmed. Open the gate." The gate is opened, and Treia replies with her diplomatic smile, "Welcome home, Sable." Even though it’s past curfew, recon teams are the exception, and she only casually glances to make sure the returning recon team members all look familiar, which they do.

"Thanks." The soldiers walk past, but the leader, Urihove, lingers behind. “Sergeant, can you tell me if anyone reported any attacks in the controlled zone?”

“Attacks?” asks Treia confused. “No, why?”

“We saw signs of a scuffle during our return, near the cliffs overlooking the river. Someone or something went over the ledge.”

“Oh… No, no one reported…” Treia trails off. Her thoughts begin to race. However, outwardly, she can’t prove anything. And, she’s not so sure she wants to. “We did have a report of a boar attack, but I assumed that wasn’t what you were saying.”

“No. There were no signs of an animal present.”

“Oh… Uh,... I’ll log the report and begin warning anyone exiting. Any idea… Any signs of who attacked who? Class of demon to watch out for?”

Urihove glances around briefly. She replies quietly, “I’m not sure, but it looked like two sets of boots; someone big and someone small. Prints were too faded to determine race.”

Treia nods as she digests the information, feeling an itch in the back of her mind. “Very well. I’ll put out warnings to the watchstanders and anyone passing through. Please report to your supervisor.”

“Thanks. I’ll do that right away. I’ll take my leave.” She makes her way into the base, and Treia leans against the wall.

After her watch, Treia meets up with Bellstram, who is headed to the baths as well. “Hey, Bellstram! How’s your shoulder feeling?”

“My what? OH! Fine. It was a much lower impact than I thought. Just bruised from landing hard on the dirt.”

“That’s good.” Treia glances around as they walk towards the bathhouse. Why Bellstram wanted to hide it, she’s not sure, but she whispers, “Recon returned a little while ago. They might’ve picked up Daniel’s trail without knowing it.”

“WHAT!?” yelps Bellstram in a surprisingly shocked tone. 

It catches Treia off guard a little, but maybe it was worse than she feared. Bellstram clears her throat, asking, “I-I mean… What makes them think that? H-He hasn’t returned for over a week. Surely he’s dead.”

Treia cocks her head. “I… Is there… any chance, the ‘boar’ you…?”

“Was Daniel?” Bellstram seems to tense a little. Her eyes glance around a little as well, though something seems a little off. But, she croaks out quietly, “Y-Yes! H-How did… How did you know?”

“I knew it. So, he attacked you? How did he sneak up on you? Was it an ambush?”

“I… Uh… That’s…” Bellstram suddenly halts, dropping her towel in a clumsy fumble. “Dang it! I-... I gotta go get a clean towel! Please excuse me!” She snatches her lightly dirtied towel and hurries off back towards the barracks, and Treia watches her for a moment in surprise.

Bellstram doesn’t return to the bathhouse during the time Treia is there.

As Treia bathes, she ponders what could have happened to Bellstram. She didn’t have any obvious injuries when she returned, and she didn’t seem particularly fearful. In fact, she’s been quite happy Daniel was gone, like many of the other personnel stationed at the fortress. 

Treia was present at breakfast time, getting her last meal before going to sleep in preparation for her night watch when Bellstram said those words. She was smug and in good humor about the statement.

That was what Urihove told Treia after returning.

But, Daniel is almost twice as tall as either Treia or Bellstram. He’d be a threat to…

Treia’s thought trails off. He’s not a warrior or soldier. He’s intelligent, but he’s always in a casual stance. He’d be easy to push over. He’d be easy to ambush. The only reason he noticed Treia that one night was because she was sloppy, and he only barely saved himself from getting caught. Any other time, she could easily do whatever she wanted, such as when he’s sleeping in some secluded corner of the base or stranded beyond the gate.

The ledge likely led to the river, which leads to a waterfall. If Daniel IS the one who went over the ledge, it’s unlikely he survived. Or will even be found.

Treia closes her eyes tight. Her heart squeezes with guilt as she tries to convince herself that it’s all right in the end.

Treia does her best to put it out of her mind. She heads to the game room, where there are a handful of tomes, some simple board games, and other basic hobbies to distract herself with.

***********

A couple of days later, during the night shift, something seems to bump and slide against the eastern wall of Fort Peony. The watchstanders, who were just talking about the lack of moonlight being a pain during watch, glance at each other. Jeonoir looks over the edge, calling out, “Who goes there!?” She scans the area around the wall, but she finds no one right away.

“Daniel… o-other…world…”

It’s directly below her, next to the gate itself. “Daniel? Wait!” She leans way out over the wall to look down at the bottom of the wall. There, she finds a body slumped in a seated position against the wall. “What are you doing?”

The man coughs, murmuring, “D-... Daniel… from… otherworld… Returning from…” He begins coughing. He’s barely audible, and his voice is wavering and quiet.

Jeonoir orders, “Archers, line up and ready-nock.”

“Yes Lieutenant!”

Jenoir jogs down to the ground level where the man-door pass through is. She cracks the door open cautiously, listening for an ambush. She uses the door as a shield to swing outwards, and she leans around it, still ready to retreat, but able to see him. “Speak up. What are you doing?”

“Return… f-free…” He coughs, losing strength. “Daniel…”

Jeonoir looks around. There are no eyes looking at them. There are no presences in the distance observing them. It’s just Daniel, and he seems pretty worse for wear.

The harefolk Lieutenant sighs. She checks behind her, and several of her guards are present. She orders, “Mind the door. I’m going to check.”

“As you wish, Lieutenant.”

She closes the door behind her, cautiously approaching with her hand on her sword. “Daniel of the otherworld has been missing for over a week. Do you have an explanation?”

Daniel doesn’t respond. He has his right hand wrapped at his waist, and he seems to have lost consciousness. His face is bruised and scratched, and his clothes are torn, with blood stains all over him, most, if not all, of which looks to be his own. She prods him with her sword, “Hey. I’m talking to you.”

His eyes suddenly flutter open, and he all but whispers, “[I’m sorry… Please repeat…]”

“What language is that!?”

“[En-English]… Sorry… I’ll… I’ll wait here…”

“Wait? For what!?”

“F-First bell…”

His head slowly sinks downwards, and he loses consciousness again. She cautiously tugs open the rag around his hand, revealing nothing hidden, but a terrifyingly dark hand with pale skin, like his flesh was peeled off and laid back on his hand.

As she studies him, his breathing slows, and his hearbeat sounds like it’s also dropping off.

He’s not faking it.

Realizing he’s actually in a medical emergency, Jeonoir calls out, “Medical emergency! Medical emergency! Ring Medic now!”

The watchstanders up top snap into action with a shout, “MEDIC!” “RING MEDIC! THREE ONE THREE!”

The signaller begins pounding on the metal cone with the beater sticks, ringing three sharp, loud, distinct gongs, followed by a pause, then one gong, then a pause, and then three gongs, repeating this cycle over and over.

Orders from up top reach Jeonoir’s ears as the archers take stations. “ARCHERS! READY! SPEARS! READY! OPEN THE GATE!”

“OPEN THE GATE!” The gate begins rumbling open, and the warriors just inside the tower Jeonoir exited from quickly storm out, joining her with their weapons and shields at the ready, guarding them.

Jeonoir orders, “Help me get him inside!”
Several of the soldiers sheath their swords and join Jeonoir in dragging the tall human inside, and just as quickly as it all began, the watchstanders open the gate. All the while, the conical gong continues to ring until the entire fortress is lit up with lanterns and torches. A swarm of warriors, some in their pajamas or wrapped in towels with boots alone sprint to the location with spears or swords in hand, while the on duty medics sprint towards the area. Jeonoir waves them down as the gate and portcullis are locked down once more, and the medics make their way to her, dropping their leather bags nearby and inspecting the patient.

“Is that him!?”

“How the hell did he survive that long!?”

“How did he make it back!?”

“CLEAR THE WAY!” Commander Leiwelle’s voice breaks over the din of the soldiers gathering and securing the area.

The medics inspect Daniel’s injuries and take his pulse. “We’re sure he’s human, right?”

“Yes! No evidence otherwise. No baseline.”

“Pulse and breathing weak. Unconscious. Flesh detachment on right hand. Multiple lacerations. Severe bruising. No obvious signs of broken bones.”

“Agreed.”

Commander Leiwelles jogs to a stop with her own pajamas and her cuirass loosely thrown over top. She has her sword drawn, but her eyes go wide when she sees Daniel. “What’s his status?”

“Alive. Barely, Commander. He’ll need a potion. But… Should we…?”

“Do it.”

“Yes, Commander.” The brewing question doesn’t need to be asked. Someone on base needs medical attention.

Just as the lead medic is withdrawing a healing potion vial from her bag, Daniel’s left hand snaps up, and he groans. The other two medics seize his hands, trying to calm him. “Calm down, Daniel! We’re helping you! Relax!”

He coughs as the lead medic starts tugging on the cap. Daniel chokes out, “No… It… It won’t… work…”

The medic halts, and she glances at Leiwelles.

“Wh-What do you mean?”

Daniel groans. “No… magic…”

“You don’t need an affinity for potions, Daniel. It’ll make you feel better and save your hand. Just relax, and…”

“No. It’ll be wasted… I’ll be…” Daniel tries to climb to his feet, but the medics pin him down. “You’re in no condition to move!”

The lead medic looks up at the Commander once more. She’s staring down at them for a long time, thinking deeply. She says calmly, “Daniel, we have no reason to believe it won’t work. Potions work on all living things.”

Daniel shakes his head. “It won’t. Please, don’t waste it. I can’t afford to…” He coughs. “Pay…”

Leiwelles sighs in disgust. She orders, “Give it to him. If it works, great. If it doesn’t, then he’s no worse off.”

The medic confirms the order with a nod, feeding the potion to Daniel. He tries to resist, but the Commander orders, “Daniel, if you have any respect for me at all, drink. Prove to me it won’t work.”

He hesitates, but he reluctantly nods, and the medic is able to help him drink the potion.

It should work within a couple of minutes as the high magic content of the potion is absorbed by the body.

However, nothing happens. None of Daniel’s minor scratches close or fade, let alone his right hand.

The warriors watching begin to murmur, as it’s yet another thing that shouldn’t be possible.

Leiwelles says with a slight humor, “Well, at least we can confirm he’s not an undead.”

Daniel coughs. He remarks, “Tastes like… [rasp]berries.”

She chuckles. She asks, “Any signs of attack?”

“Negative, Commander!” call the watchstanders from above.

“Fell… river…” murmurs Daniel.

“What?”

“I fell… into the river… climbed out… downstream.”

She sighs. “Understood. But, we still need to take caution. Take him to the infirmary. Do what you can to clean and dress his wounds. I want two guards watching him at all times. Don’t let him do anything foolish.”

The medics nod. “Understood, Commander.”

Leiwelles and Jeonoir watch as the medics retrieve a stretcher from the youngest’s bag, and they load Daniel onto it. With a couple of spare soldiers, they carry the otherworlder to the infirmary.

“How long was he sitting outside?”
“I… We heard a thump, and challenged him as soon as we discovered he took a seat against the wall. He just kept trying to tell us who he was and that he was returning. It was no more than a few minutes once we knew he was there.”

“And, you’re sure about that?” The Commander looks directly at the Lieutenant. 

“Y-Yes, Commander! I admit I was suspicious at first, but as soon as I realized it was a medical emergency, I ordered the signal.” She flinches, “Oh! He did also speak in a language I didn’t understand. When I asked him, he said ‘ING-lesh’, I think. Then, ‘Sorry. I’ll wait here.’”

“Wait here? For what?”

Jeonoir looks away. “‘First bell’, is what he said.”

It’s no secret that Daniel’s no one’s favorite person, and he’s spent more than one night outside of the fort thanks to hostility. It borders on cruelty, since he doesn’t fight back or speak harshly or complain. In fact, he was so quickly accustomed to it, he adheres to the rules to avoid additional confrontation.

Leiwelles murmurs, “He genuinely believes none of you are trying to kill him. Stand down from emergency response. Watchstanders, resume the watch.” She walks back towards the barracks building, carrying her sword in a relaxed position.

**************

Gwenesphia jogs into the infirmary. During the emergency call, her duty is to bolster manning of the west wall, which is opposite of where the emergency was. However, word spread quickly. Once they were allowed to stand down, she bursts through the door, asking, “Is it true!?”

“We’re busy! Get out!”

She sees the three medics preparing treatments and wraps for the human otherworlder as he lies on the treatment table. She sighs in relief. It’s definitely him. “C-Can I just…”

“No. He’s unconscious. Get out, or I’ll report you, Lieutenant.”

She flinches, but she nods obediently. But, there are two soldiers standing in the back of the medical room. “Wh-What about them?”

“Take it up with the Commander. Last warning.”

“I’m going! Apologies.” She retreats from the room and takes a deep, relieving breath before exhaling all of the residual stress. He was pretty beaten up, but he’s still alive. Her guilt would eat at her for a long time.

Treia, like Gwen, was at the west wall. Her watch ended at midnight, but she normally sleeps during the morning and day, so she would normally be awake at this time. However, curiosity drew her to the infirmary, where the odds have been beaten. Gwen gives Treia a reassuring nod. “It’s him.”

Treia is silent for a moment. She nods her head once. “Good. I’ll be able to thank him and go back to hating him with a clean slate.” She walks away swiftly, and Gwenesphia smiles.

She makes her way back to sleep so that she can wake up bright and early. She makes her way first thing to the Commander’s office, meeting the senior officer as she is arriving at her office in the morning. “Lieutenant. About to go on watch, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Commander. I’ll keep it brief.”

“What is it?”

“I was kicked out of the infirmary last night before I could check on Daniel, but there were two others that were in the infirmary who weren’t kicked out.”

“You his wife?”

“What? N-No. I just…”

Leiwelles sighs, “I ordered two guards on Daniel at all times to ensure he doesn’t try to do anything foolish.”

“Commander-...”

“Not sinister. I don’t want him trying to wander around and work. That’s all.”

“Oh…” Gwen straightens her posture, “Commander; request guard detail for Daniel.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“He’s always been polite with me. I’d like to find out what he’s hiding.”

Leiwelles sits down at her desk, stretching and yawning briefly. “Fine. You can have second watch. AFTER standing your gate watch.”

“Of course, Commander. Thank you.”

“What is it?” Leiwelles leans to look past Gwen, and Gwen looks behind her. Treia flinches, and she’s standing at the door, which was left open. “I-... Commander, I…” She glances nervously at both of them.

The Commander sighs. “Take your leave, Lieutenant. Sergeant, you may enter.”

Treia enters, but she says, “A-Actually… I’d like to… speak to both of you, Commander.”
Curious, but aware of the hesitancy. She states, “Close the door.” 

Treia nods in reply, and she closes the door. She then approaches the desk as close as she’s allowed, standing alongside Gwen. “Commander, Lieutenant;... I believe Daniel is in danger.”

Leiwelles scoffs, tying her hair into her usual bun. “I read the logs, Sergeant. Are you sure you wish to play this game?”

Treia looks down. “I intentionally locked him out because of curfew on two occasions, Commander. I wanted to force him to use his magic.”

Leiwelles sighs in disgust. “As was proven last night, Daniel doesn’t have any magic capacity whatsoever.”

“I know, Commander. I acknowledge what I did. However, I’m truly concerned that he’s in danger now.”

“Why the change of heart?”

She looks away for a moment, her triangular cat ears flicking nervously. “I didn’t know he was actually useful. I felt guilty using the hot water and air.” She looks at Gwenesphia, murmuring, “I… I think… someone is going to try to kill him.”

“That’s a bold claim, Sergeant. I assume this won’t be like the storehouse.”

She looks down. However, she quickly looks up, saying, “I was right, though! He did break into the storehouse.” She flinches under the Commander’s gaze narrowing. However, she stands her ground, “I think someone pushed him over the cliff in hopes he wouldn’t make it. Recon Team Sable reported an apparent scuffle that matches his disappearance.”

“Do you have any idea who, Sergeant?”

“I… I have only suspicions, Commander. I believe others can corroborate my suspicions, but it’s… regrettably, only hear-say.”

Leiwelles sighs. “Who was it?”

Treia squirms, but the Commander growls, “You started this, Sergeant. Speak.”

“Bellstram… said some suspicious things.”

“Bellstram? And, what did she say?”

Gwenesphia’s eyes widen, and Commander Leiwelles notices, looking at her. “So, you heard it, too?”

Gwen flinches, and she squeaks, “Oh! I’m not sure if Sergeant Treia means the same conversations, but Bellstram has made several comments about Daniel’s negligence causing him to slip down a hill and fall into the river over the cliffs. She made these remarks the day he failed to return.”

Treia agrees with a nod. She adds softly, “She had also forgotten about her shoulder injury when I asked about it. And, when I thought at first that Daniel had attacked her, she seemed hesitant to agree… She then made an excuse and has avoided me since. She was also surprised when I told her that the Recon Team’s report indicated Daniel’s trail. I think she thought he was still in the controlled zone.”

Leiwelles studies both of them for a moment. She murmurs thoughtfully, “She was on a free-scout on the same day…” She pages through old logs, finding the entries. She nods as her memory is proven correct. 

However, she states the obvious. “Unfortunately, Bellstram is not the only woman on this base that seems to want Daniel dead.” She makes a point of looking directly at Treia, who looks down and confirms with a disappointed nod.

After a moment of silence as Leiwelles thinks, she asks cautiously, “Sergeant; have you confronted Bellstram about this matter?”
“No, Commander.”

“Good. And, have you confessed your regrets to anyone else but the two of us?”

“No… Commander?”

“I see. Then, I’d like you to express your disgust that he survived. The more vitriolic, the better. I want you to create suspicion that YOU were the one who arranged it. Naturally, you weren’t in the logs that day as departing or returning, but all the better.”

“C-Commander?”

“You dislike him anyway, correct? I’m only asking you to express your feelings. Just do it in a way that makes you the prime suspect. I want to see who will object to my next move.”

Gwen murmurs cautiously, “Commander,... This sounds extremely dangerous…”

“For Daniel, yes? We’ll survive without him. Unfortunately, everyone knows you’re relatively soft on him, Lieutenant, so just man your watches as laid out. Sergeant? Do you have any other questions?”

Treia glances at Gwenesphia, and then looks to the Commander once more. She asks nervously, “Commander… Do… YOU want Daniel gone?”

The Commander smirks cryptically. “I can’t exactly claim joy at his return. Take your leave, Ladies. I’ll determine the final watchbill soon.”

The two women glance at each other, and they bow, leaving the room.

*******************

Daniel walks wearily out of the infirmary after the medics leave for dinner. He’s not supposed to leave, but he’s able to walk and move. His hand wasn’t quite as bad as it looked and felt, but his fingers are still gravely tender and aching constantly, and his body is still sore all over.

Daniel reaches the Quartermaster before she closes up the storehouse, and the night watch sergeant is present. He’s pretty sure her name is Treia. She twitches with a start when she sees him, but she scowls. 

“You? Why’d you have to come crawling back, huh? Do you even HAVE a reason to live anymore?”

Daniel keeps his practiced blank expression. He replies softly, “Apologies. I suppose I don’t. Please excuse me, Sergeant. Quartermaster, can I get my ration for the night?”

The Quartermaster replies quietly, “Sure…” She retrieves one of the ration packs and hands it to him. Daniel nods politely. “Thank you. I’ll take my leave now.”

Daniel starts to walk away, and Treia snarls, “Hey! Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself? You think I LIKE having to watch over my shoulder? Huh? You realize this is a military fortress, right? How are we supposed to be expected to do our jobs if we have to constantly worry about being dragged off by scum like you? You should’ve done both worlds a favor and stayed in that river. At least then, you could feed nature.”

Daniel is quiet for a moment, and she glares at him. Daniel replies softly, “If I tried to explain how I was saving her life, would you believe me?”

“And why should I, huh? You, a disgusting weed, saved a princess’s life? You’re pathetic to lie about that.”

“Then, I have nothing else to say.”

“Huhhh? That’s it? You’re giving up that easily? Maybe you are just scum.”

He is quiet for a moment, and she crosses her arms, though her feline ears lay flat to the sides. “Your guilty conscience is obviously getting the best of you now, but you still crawled back here. Why? Huh? Just waiting until you can rationalize…”

“She drowned.” She halts, and Daniel growls in the first angry tone she’s heard from him. “She drowned in the river, and everyone else gave up when she didn’t have a heartbeat. Her corset was in the way. I don’t regret what I did. I don’t care that you hate me. If you can’t stand me, get rid of me yourself. You’re right. I didn’t have the courage to stay dead.” Daniel bows, growling more softly, “I’m taking my leave.” He walks away, and Treia stares at him for a moment.

She snaps, calling out, “Y-You’re… Anyone can say anything! Just…”

He ignores her, and she seems to give up. He sighs. He eats his ration on the move, walking slowly to the smithy once more. He needs something to take his mind off of everything.

He’s been thinking everything she was saying on his own. He didn’t need to hear it, but hearing it out loud makes it even harder to deal with. He knows he did the ‘right’ thing, but would it be easier if he ceased to exist? He doesn’t add much, even if he can pretend to be an artificer for brief periods of time.

In the smithy, Daniel resumes what he had been tinkering away at most nights he could. His parts were still stashed in their corner, untouched because they serve no immediate purpose to anyone else.

He has the base parts for it forged, and he continues filing down rough spots on the moving parts. He’s making a crude bolt-action rifle. It won’t have the perfection of a carefully-machined rifle, and it certainly won’t have a proper rifling, though he did make a boring tool for getting at least some turn grooves in the barrel. If he can get the bullets to spin at all, it’ll vastly improve performance. 

It’s a quick and dirty design, and he overdesigned certain parts, because he intends to use a bullet roughly the size of a 20mm round, which is larger than a .50 caliber. Of course, he’s making all of the parts himself, so it’s not going to be perfect. However, with enough powder behind it, a thick enough barrel, and a hard enough core, his rounds should hopefully be able to penetrate even heavy armor and stone, and if his hopes pan out, potentially penetrate a dragon’s scales. Failing that, if he can hit internals when it opens its mouth to attack or roar, he might be able to stop them.

That’s the hope, anyway. He does his best to make reproducible bullets, and he mixes the black powder from various chemicals and materials he was able to scrounge around the base. Nothing about his rifle will be perfect, but if he can fire more than once, and it can take down anything larger than himself, then he’ll have succeeded. And, in any case whatsoever, it serves as a distraction to keep his idle mind and hands busy.

It’s tedious, of course, working without the use of the pads of his fingers, which are the most injured from his slip. But, he is able to work.

Daniel is making bullets when the two women who were watching over him in the infirmary finally arrive. He slipped away when they got comfortable in chairs to talk about the revolution occurring in the kingdom of Bromlund.

“Hey! Are you stupid!? You’re supposed to be in the infirmary.”

“I’m feeling much better. I’d rather work.”

“Sorry. The medics haven’t released you. Get back to the infirmary.”

“I’m almost done with this. Can I finish?”

“No. We have orders to keep you from doing anything stupid.”

“I’m just tinkering. Nothing difficult. I was going stir crazy.”

The guards sigh in disgust. “Don’t make me get the medics.”

“Why would you? Wouldn’t you rather be doing anything else?”

“Our job is to watch you. Doesn’t matter what we want to do.”

“I encourage you to watch me here. More difficult to escape, even if you sit outside.”

The other guard pats her shoulder, “He’s right. Who cares, anyways? It’s himself he’s endangering.”

“I swear I’m all right.”

The first guard sighs. “When anyone asks, we told you.”

Daniel agrees wearily, but politely. “Thank you.” He continues tinkering on the individual bullets, and the guards glance at each other awkwardly. It’s hot and stinks a little inside the smithy, so they make their way out to watch the stairs. It has the added bonus of telling anyone who might come looking where they are, including their reliefs.

And, when that time inevitably comes, the new watchstanders peek in on him, verifying that he’s still working.

“Hey! Aren’t you going to sleep?”

“Eventually. I’ll let you know.”

“Alright. No funny business. It’s hot in here. We’ll be outside.”

“Don’t mind me. I’ll be here.”

Daniel finishes twenty of the bullets, checking each one in the receiver to ensure a snug fit, and that the bolt can lock into place. Given that he’s making it with crude methods, he’s got a working device that should be able to keep him safe. If it works as he hopes, all the better. If it works half as good, just fine. If it kills him, then his problems are over.

After finishing the bullets, he tucks them into his battered shoulder bag, which he managed to return with. He’ll retrieve the rifle components if he needs it. He then heads outside, telling the two women watching him that he’s going to sleep. They nod, “About time.”

However, when he walks towards the dining hall, they ask in confusion, “What are you doing?”

“Going to my usual spot.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Can we talk later? I’m tired. All you have to do is watch me, right?”

Daniel walks to his normal spot and takes a seat against the wall of the dining hall, where the residual heat helps keep him warm.

The two watchstanders glance at each other uneasily. “Y… You’re going to sleep here?”

“Yes. Warmest spot on base. Please don’t mind me.” He lays his head back and drifts off to sleep rather quickly, given that he’s worn out.

*******************

Continue to the next chapter here:
Chapter 18: The Broken Mechanic