Chapter 12 - Part 8

Ambassador Reesir Toppe was bringing waterskins around to the people lying in beds and makeshift cots when he spotted the warforged helping a man haul another bed. The interior of the church was a mess. Pews and benches had been pushed aside to make room for the wounded, and the seriously burned and cut were all mixed in with the merely scraped and staggered. The warforged walked with a grace that seemed intuitive, easily avoiding thrashing bodies and other items that were underfoot.

The Ambassador kept an eye on the warforged as he passed out the last waterskin. The construct seemed bitter, angry. Most people would not have seen it, but Reesir had spent a great deal of time around warforged, and he knew them well. He actually knew them well enough to have been a hunter of them many years ago, when they were new things, and he was a young army scout.

Reesir went over to the warforged, reaching out to touch him on his shoulder. Somehow the warforged heard him over the cries and talking, or otherwise sensed him, and turned around quickly enough to dodge Reesir’s hand. “Let’s talk outside?” the ambassador asked.

The warforged nodded, but more out of having no reason not to than any genuine interest.

Together the man and the machine strode out into the sunlight, moving south towards the wreck of the inn. “You seem to be a wanderer, isn’t that right?” Reesir asked the warforged. The ambassador’s forehead stitches started to ache more out in the sunlight for some reason.

“Yes,” it said cautiously. “But I haven’t much choice, Ambassador.”

“Call me Reesir,” he said, giving the warforged a winning smile. “You know we didn’t get much chance to talk on our travel up here. I had affairs of state, and you kept to yourself a lot. Secret Gatekeeper business I suppose.”

“Something like that.” They came to the open plaza again. The one with all the bodies. “What are you trying to convince me to do?”

Reesir raised an eyebrow. People had told him that this ‘forged was different, that he could sense things. It was one thing to be told it, another to actually encounter it. “You’re a sharp one,” he said, forcing a laugh. “What is it that they call you again?”

“Orphan,” it told him bluntly. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“I want you to come to Breland,” the ambasador said, seeing that the direct route was best. “We have offered our warforged full citizenship as soon as the war is over. You would be respected in Breland.” He leaned in. “You would be given your own hall in Wroat to train new students of the Balanced Palm.”

The warforged hesitated, then his mouth flexed at the corners a tiny bit in the warforged smile. “As soon as the war is over? It’s been raging for a century.” And he strode away, heading towards a group of people who were assisting Delegado clear some rubble.

The ambassador smiled. He had planted the hook, that was the important thing.