Chapter 300: The Downward Spiral
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LERRIN
"I'm telling you," Asta muttered as they walked through the camp after visiting the sentries to make sure the patrols were on their toes, "We need to stop with these petty skirmishes. All these little raids are only frustrating everyone."
"Including our enemy," Lerrin said through his teeth, as low as possible so they were unlikely to be overheard. "Killing by a thousand paper cuts."
"And allowing them to believe a paper-cut is all we are capable of!"
"Exactly," he snapped. "The Cat will be lulled into a false sense of security, believing we don't have the numbers for an all-out assault. His confidence will grow—and then he'll grow lax. Their comfort and convenience has made them soft. Trust me. What we need is time."
"Except, all the time we use to make them relax, only strengthens their position—they become better equipped, better prepared. It's more time for them to think through their defenses, and to find a way to infiltrate ours. Do I need to remind you they've already done that once?"
"No," Lerrin growled. "I warned Lucine she was being cocky about—" Lerrin snarled as his foot caught on something low the ground and he pitched forward, whipping himself around to keep his feet. He ended face to face with one of the hunters squatted next to a tiny campfire alongside his tent—and the spear that he'd left where it must have fallen over the trail kicked to his feet.
Lerrin straightened as the male rolled his shoulders forward and dropped his head. "I'm very sorry, Sire," he muttered.
Lerrin was about to tell him to pay it no mind, when he became aware of the male's campsite.
There were other weapons leaned up against the side of tent—its center pole slightly askew. Dirty dishes were stacked alongside the fire, crawling in bugs and obviously having sat there since the night before.
Lerrin scanned the site, and those around it and saw the same thing over and over. Only little things, little details, but more than one at almost every site.
"Clean up this site!" he snarled at the male, who flinched.
"Yes, Sire, right away."
"Do not let me find it in such condition again, or you'll be assigned to the cesspits."
"Yes, Sire. I'm very sorry."
Lerrin snorted and turned on his heel, Asta falling in alongside him as he began to walk again. Though he hardly wished to open his mind, it wasn't a conversation to be overheard, so he scratched at her mind and she opened to him immediately, if with some distance. They'd never been good at this kind of connection.
It's been barely two weeks and the people are already losing their edge?
She looked around, her lips thin. They are tired. And demoralized.
Two weeks, Asta.
They were promised the Tree City. Instead they have… this.
They were never promised the Tree City from the first week! I thought our enemies were the soft ones. If this is what our soldiers have come to already it's no wonder we haven't made more progress. Get the fist leaders moving among them and shaping things up. If they aren't on a raid, they need to be training or working with their people. They can't be falling apart already.
Asta rolled a growl in her throat. Morale is low because nothing is happening, she sent.
Nothing?! They know nothing! Just because I don't have the cat's head on a pike yet doesn't mean nothing is happening, Asta, you know that.
But they do not, she added firmly.
He stopped walking and she stopped with him, facing him, not backing down. Not dropping her eyes. It was an agreement between them that she would always challenge him—whether she believed what she said, or not. She would choose the best argument and bring it to him in every situation, and in this way they tested every decision.
But her firmness now was real. He could feel it in her.
She thought they should be doing more. She thought the people were justified in their little rebellions.
Lerrin leaned in until they were almost nose to nose. She didn't back down, but he felt her waver.
You tell our people to keep their teeth and claws sharp, he seethed, because they could be called in at any moment. And you tell them that just because they don't see progress does not mean their King is sitting on his ass, tickling himself with his tail.
I'll pass it on, she sent, nodding.
But he didn't drop her gaze, and neither did she. "What is the problem?" he hissed.
I am impatient, too, she sent rather than spoke, wisely. I want to taste leonine blood. I am done being seen as the villain. It is our people who have been kept low for generations!
Lerrin's lip curled up over his teeth. Then you should remind yourself that our best chance for victory is to get our enemy off-balance. We are strategists, Asta. We are disciplined and strong. We are not bears who will roar and rampage… He threw a hand out towards the camp. Though you wouldn't know it, looking around here.
Can you blame them? They were promised the Tree City and here we are… camping. Well, except for our fearless King, she sent with a mocking bow. He has found at least some of the comforts of home. Lucky male.
A growl rolled in Lerrin's throat.
Don't get pissy, Lerrin. I'm jealous. I wish I had a hand-maiden.
The thought was colored with enough humor to soothe his anger a hair. But only a hair.
You could have had one if your timing had been better, he sent. She needed cover, so I took her on. She's proven more useful than I could have anticipated.
"I'm sure she is," Asta said, smirking and arching an eyebrow.
Lerrin growled. "Do not become the males you despise, Asta."
That wiped the grin off her face. She bristled, but kept her stance casual. He could feel her anger through the connection though.
Suddenly, Lerrin was very tired, and it was only morning. He couldn't drop her eyes and be seen to submit, so he pushed at her through the bond until she sighed and looked away.
Thank you, he sent. Now, what is going on?
He watched her carefully as she now avoided his eyes and her hands clenched. "This isn't about me having a servant, surely? She can be used to help others if you think—"
"No, it's not. Not exactly," she said. "The female helps around the camp when you're occupied. No one resents her, they're just uncomfortable."
"Why?"
Asta's lips thinned. "The women are uncomfortable about her beauty and proximity to the King. The males are uncomfortable about her being disformed. Everyone near her is on edge."
"She is not near the King. Not like that," he growled.
Asta shrugged. "It looks like she is. To females who would have their eyes on you, it is a burr in their fur. But I've been near her. She does good work quickly and quietly, without complaint. No one begrudges you some help, Lerrin. Well, except for the bathing. That seems a bit indulgent."
He snorted. "That's the one thing I won't give up."
Asta tipped her head as if to say it was up to him.
"Tell me, Asta. What is it you aren't saying."
"Nothing, Lerrin. You told me to challenge you on anything that seems valid, whether I agreed or not. Our current living arrangement, the uncertainty of the war… it all feels frustrating. So, I let you know that. That is all."
Except, there was a hint, the most subtle hint that she'd left something unsaid.
They stared at each other.
But she didn't flinch.
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