Slumrat Rising

Truth had the bartender switch on the scry. The shows being broadcast were all local and crummy, cheap thing that it was. Still, the scryball managed to pick up a long running propaganda channel masquerading as a twenty-four hour news station.

First up was a clip, an older man, still vigorous, dressed in a neat suit, addressing the viewers. Truth didn’t recognize the flag on his lapel pin.

“We strongly condemn the unilateral, unprovoked invasion of Jeon by Onis, and call upon the international community to take immediate, forceful action to bring this war to an immediate conclusion. While Ben Zhu does not wish to join militarily, we can and will enforce our long standing territorial rights to transit the Straights of Pol. To that end, the Ben Zhu Citizens Defensive Flotilla is deploying to the Straights and will be taking all necessary actions to secure the safety and prosperity of the Citizens of our great nation.”

Pretty sure I’ve never heard of the Straights of Pol?

>

Truths shaky grasp on geography was good enough to throw up that image. Then he blinked

“The hell are they talking about? That’s not remotely near the front lines?!”

The bartender tisked. “Naval combat, Sargent. Someone puts too much salt in their soup and the navy will try to fill it with demons. Anywhere you can fit a boat or a water demon is the battlefield. Lot of shipping goes through there.”

The broadcast continued, cutting to a strikingly dressed woman. Truth thought she looked like she had walked through gold colored heavy curtains, gotten tangled up, staggered in front of the podium and had a matching hat nailed to her head with long pins seconds before the broadcast started rolling.

“Onis has been a long time ally to the Free People of Gran Fogo, and we will not be found lacking now, in their hour of need. The relentless, shameless and vicious provocations made by Jeon through their proxies cannot, and will not, go unpunished. The First Armada is already underway, to support Onis’ Naval actions in the Green Sea. On the domestic level, the Free People’s Committee for Public Safety is nationalizing all assets belonging to Jeon citizens or Jeon Corporations currently located in Gran Fogo.”

Truth glanced over to the bartender. “Did she just say they are stealing all of Starbrite’s shit located in wherever the hell Gran Fogo is?”

“Yep. And emptying a ton of bank accounts. There was a story a couple of years ago- loads of people do some pretty funny business hiding money in Gran Fogo.”

“Not going to lie, I have never heard of it before.”

“Eeh… little country on the other side of the world. Bet you that the “First Armada” is two frigates and a “corvette” that is actually a fishing boat with a heavy needler mounted on the prow. Just you watch.”

“No bet.”

The broadcast cut over again to a man in military uniform, one eye covered in a black patch. He didn’t recognize the uniform, or the flags hung behind him. Green and black stripes with some kind of circle in the middle. A sun? He didn't know.

“It is the pride and truth of every native soul in Seshon-”

“That’s not a real country,” Truth interjected.

“It is. Island smaller than the pimples on my ass. Again, on the other side of the world.”

The ferocious looking man on the scry was speaking at a furious clip. “We therefore will fight the forces of wickedness and oppression wherever they may be, no matter how enormous the foe. We offer our unconditional support to the heroic resistance efforts of the people of Jeon in the face of this unprovoked brutality-”

“Unconditional support means what, exactly?”

“Tough talk on scry, I’d guess. I doubt Seshon would last a single move against Gran Fogo’s First Armada. I mean the whole country, not just their navy. “Navy.”” The bartender snorted and pressed the sandwich against the griddle, encouraging that golden crust that was so vital to the Jeon Egg Sandwich experience. Soft fluffy white bread, with a beautifully buttered, toasted-gold exterior.

“So far it sounds like a bunch of people who are about as useful as a chocolate teakettle talking tough.”

“Ben Zhou has more going on than you might think. I served in the Navy. Those rats love saying that they only want peaceful cooperation, while building up weapons stockpiles like crazy. Lots and lots of so-called fishing vessels with “fish tracking enchantments” and “weather tracking fetishes” running around our waters.”

“Spies?”

“Oh no! All fishing boats have intelligence officers out of uniform hidden in their holds. Completely normal!”

“Fun.” Truth sipped his iced tea.

“They are going to stick a base on Racz Shoal. Just you watch. They say they are supporting Jeon, but it’s nothing but a land grab.”

“Eh?”

The bartender looked grim. “Rationing, remember?”

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“Sorry, going to have to spell it out for me.”

“Fish, Sergeant. They are securing trade routes and control of the fishing grounds.”

Truth jolted at that one.

“On the other hand, they really can put enough ships and anti-ship weapons there to completely lock down the Straights. Especially so close to their home islands. Normally they wouldn’t dream of throwing down with Onis- they would get crushed. But now?”

Both the bartender and Truth shook their heads at that. The program cut back to the studio. The presenter was a heartbreaking beauty, long, glossy black hair swept back over her bare shoulders with a single thin braid of ash white hair tucked behind her ear.

“As you can see, the international situation is still evolving and quite complex, but the overwhelming majority of global opinion harshly condemns Onis’ unprovoked atrocities and crimes against the people and the nation of Jeon. This is already resulting in material support, as shipments of-”

“Your sandwich, Sergeant. Double cabbage, double sauce, you said?”

“Yes, thanks.”

The sandwich was so saucy, even looking at it would stain your shirt. Perfect.

“You have no idea how much I have been looking forward to this. Been running my ass off out there.”

Truth grabbed it, feeling the sauce coating his hands and not caring even a little bit as he tore into the sandwich. He groaned in satisfaction. Even better than he remembered.

“Do they not feed you up at the base? You look ready to cry.”

“Been running a lot, eating what didn’t need cooking. Wasn’t kidding. Wait, what did she just say?”

“The true enemy is within, of course. We now can confirm how Hell Prince escaped Harban.” There was a cut over to a picture of an imposing looking building, with an enormous “Onis Embassy” sign in brass on it.

“Internal Security has been able to track his movements through the city, all the way to the gates of the Embassy. Before he could be intercepted, he was quite literally flown out of the country, crammed into a suitcase, sealed with spells and stamped as part of the “diplomatic pouch.” Onis has denied this, of course, and naturally the Government has summarily expelled the entire embassy staff. Onis will not be welcomed back to Jeon until the war is over and reparations paid.”

Truth snorted at that. The bartender just shook his head. “Fools. Nurturing a viper to your chest will only see you bitten eventually.” Truth had to smile wryly at that one. Perks had been perfectly pleasant company. A bit wiggly now and then, but when Truth was moving at less than highway speeds, he would drape the snake around his neck to get some sun. Not so much as a hostile hiss so far.

“Thought he was supposed to be a puppet of Siphios. Or the Free State.”

“All the vipers are looking out for each other these days. Notice that Siphios is being real, real, quiet about all this.”

“Yeah, what are they up to?”

“Nothing. Which means they are scheming something. Always.” The bartender was firm on this.

Truth munched his sandwich with indecent relish. The sauce was getting everywhere over his hands, but so far, he had kept it off his shirt. He had missed this beyond words. The combination of crunch, soft, sweet, salty, savory, bitter and bright acidity was just so perfect and complete, it was almost heartbreaking.

Some people sneered at this food. It was street. It was the definition of not-fancy. It looked like a mess, was messy to eat, and used cheap ingredients exclusively. It was a fatty, sugary mess. Some people were idiots. He’d eaten the highest class foods, and they were phenomenal, but he couldn’t say they had all brought him more joy than this sandwich.

“Hey, old timer- do me a favor. Etch the recipe for this and the cooking instructions on a slab of stone or something. Make sure your hopefully many descendants each have a copy, with the master stone preserved in a deep cave somewhere. A place known only to your sprawling clan of bartenders, innkeepers and cart operators.”

The bartender chuckled a little at that. “My kids do okay. None of them made it into Starbrite, but they do okay. Don’t have to spend all day tending bar like their old man.”

Truth shook his head, not noticing the flecks of sauce that were flung away from his newly painted lips.

“Don’t sell yourself short. You are in the hospitality industry, and this sandwich is a warm welcome after a trying few days. Got another cold tea back there?”

“You bet. What do they have you doing up there?”

Truth got a funny little nudge in the instincts. He smiled warmly at the bartender. “Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies. We all get tired out, doing what we got to. But being welcomed someplace, even if it’s on a professional basis, that’s a good thing.”

“Long as the money spends.” The bartender shrugged, then frowned. “Well, in a manner of speaking.”

“Here’s my ration gem.” Truth slid over the recently acquired talisman. The quartermaster’s office just had a stack of them lying around, waiting to have an identity imprinted on them.

Left carelessly in a safe. In a secured depot. In the military base. In the middle of a major military build up. Surrounded by literally tens of thousands of guarding soldiers and watcher spirits. Truth had just walked up and demanded to know why his hadn’t been delivered yet. Incisive was a great spell.

He sent the first one back, because it was “dusty,” and threatened to send the quartermaster to a front line unit if he didn’t bring a “good” one at once. Some parts of the Prince identity were hard to shake. He still had that officer uniform in his ring too. Apparently, defending the uniforms and rank insignia was not a high priority for base security.

“Thanks. Well, you know how it is.” The bartender ran the gem over the enchanted plate. The plate faintly chimed and gently flashed blue. “Here you go. Thanks for stopping in. Bathroom’s on the right, if you want to wash up. Never seen someone tear into a double sauce sandwich like that.”

“Ah, a sandwich like that is good for the soul. Something to think about there. Not to be preachy or anything but, you know, for those of us on the front lines? Nothing is more important than having somewhere to come home to. Yeah, that’s the key thing. That warmth, that hospitality? Can’t beat it. Thanks for the sandwich and putting the news on. Can’t help but notice the big boys haven’t weighed in yet. Well, other than Onis.”

The bartender nodded, looking thoughtful. “Reckon they want to see how things develop before jumping in. Let everyone weaken some before deciding where to bite.

“Probably right. Thanks again, old timer. I’ll tell the kids this a good place for a bite and a drink. We all have to look out for each other, these days.”

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