Chapter Twenty - Introduction Interrogation

“Do you have any systems in place, protocols, for handling prisoners?” I asked.

Seventeen crossed one arm across his chest, and rubbed at his chin with his opposite hand. “I do. I’m... reluctant to admit this, but there are two distinct protocols in place. One is standard. Observe the prisoners, extract knowledge from them, then if they seem pacified, abandon them to their own devices. The other protocol is for dealing with members of the Lava Fist sect. If captured, they’re brought to a little island with a small boat and a poorly guarded prison. They usually escape within the week.” He bowed. “I’m aware that this isn’t normal, but I have something of a relationship with that sect.”

“It’s fine,” I dismissed his concern. “As long as you took note of things, then it can still be valuable data.”

Seventeen and I, as well as the limpet, Alex, and my butler-in-training Rem, were all making our way out of the command centre and towards the middle of the underwater fortress. If we were to care for our prisoners properly, we would need to see them first.

Besides, our time under the ocean was soon coming to an end. The limpet had proven more capable at strategizing than I had predicted, and perhaps a greater level of challenge would be appropriate for her in the future.

“So what will we do with the prisoners?” the limpet asked. “Just let them go?”

“We will separate their leader from the rest, then question them, and any officers they may have. After that, I suppose it would be up to you. Killing them would eliminate a threat, and assist in replenishing your stock of undead. On the other hand, letting them go does wonders for lowering morale amongst an enemy population.”

“Lowering morale?” the limpet repeated. “I’m not sure I get it.”

“Hmm. Imagine that you’re a simple villager, a person with a simple but harmless life tilling fields and minding your own business. Then you are conscripted and given some week’s training in an armed force. You go to war, and your army loses its battle against the horrifying undead. Your commander surrenders.”

The limpet nodded along. “Okay, I’m understanding things so far.”

“Now, after that surrender, you’re questioned, and left to go free. Do you rejoin the army? If so, will you fight as hard next time, or will you surrender, knowing that you’ll be allowed to live if so. What do you tell other, newer soldiers about the undead? Allowing a captured enemy to leave is allowing knowledge of your forces to spread.”

“The enemy could counter the undead better that way,” the limpet said.

“Yes, that’s true. It’s part of the risk. But it also means that the enemy will know more about the horrors of fighting armies of zombies and ghouls and abominations. Sometimes, battles are won before a single step is taken.”

Seventeen chuckled. “I recall tales of entire cities surrendering without putting up a fight, or of commanders being killed by their own foot soldiers when they demanded that they face the undead hordes.”

“Ah,” the limpet said. I suspected she had finally caught on. “They knew that surrender meant that they’d live, so the only way to die for sure was to fight.”

“Exactly,” I said. “You make fighting you a losing option. It helps if cities and towns under your control prosper and grow wealthy. That way, the citizens of enemy nations will wonder if they are perhaps better off under your care than under their own leader’s.”

The limpet’s face twisted a little. “That won’t work on cultivators.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“They’re very, very obstinate. They have to be. It’s part of what makes them cultivators. So even if surrendering means living, they’ll likely just want to fight you more. I think that they’ll think that there’s more to gain from fighting.”

“Hmm. In a way, they aren’t incorrect. The experience gained from facing an army of the undead cannot be overlooked. And in the case where they do live and repel an assault, their authority becomes more firmly cemented. There is, for a lack of a better word, power, in asserting power.”

The limpet huffed. “So what’s the point in playing psychological games then, if we’ll have to fight anyway?”

“Because cultivators need to eat. They cannot live entirely on their own. In the end, it is rare that a single individual will be powerful enough to turn the tides of an army. They exist, of course. But most nations rely on the collective power of its citizens in order to function. War isn’t about battles as much as it is about obtaining victory through the exercise of many, many levers upon an opposing force. Battle is just one of those.”

“Complicated,” the limpet said simply.

“Did you think war was simple?” I asked.

She flushed and walked on, head held a little higher as she didn’t deign to answer.

“Stupid limpet,” Rem said. “War is hard, that’s why only idiots do it.”

“If I’m stupid, then wouldn’t that mean that I’m good at war then?” the limpet asked.

Rem tilted her head, obviously confused. “Why are you being extra stupid?”

The limpet hadn’t yet learned that the greatest weakness of wordplay was its inability to work against the incredibly moronic.

On arriving at the centre of the base, Alex ran off to fetch the horses and the carriage while Seventeen coordinated some troopers who would be accompanying us in order to better secure the prisoners later. Some had already ran off ahead to reinforce the limpet’s little army which had already faced decent casualties. The will-o’-wisps would be especially useful at night.

Once everything was gathered up, we started moving towards the shore.

“It must be hard,” the limpet said. She was casting Prestidigitation, creating little balls of light which she moved in complex patterns between her fingers.

“For whom or what?” I enquired.

“The prisoners. It’s so dark out I can barely see a dozen paces away. I guess it’s lighter out above the waters, but still, it’s dark, they’re probably cold, and surrounded by the undead. They lost a lot of members, and they’re disarmed.”

“Their morale is likely as low as you can make it without resorting to torture,” I agreed.

The limpet looked as though she’d bitten into something foul. “I don’t mind killing people, not much, but torture? That feels wrong.”

“I agree. It rarely accomplishes much,” I said.

The ride was otherwise rather quiet. Rem quickly got bored and huddled up into a little ball on one seat, and the limpet pulled out a book I’d water-proofed and went over her notes for the few spells she knew, muttering the incantations into the water.

We soon started to climb, and the seascape around us turned sandier as we reached the shore.

The front of the carriage hit air first, and the rest soon followed. The water within leaked out, waking the mantis in our midst up with a start.

“Oh, it’s nice to breathe air again,” the limpet said as she ran her hands through her hair. She had tied it into a bun at some point, likely because being underwater sent her hair across her face in a way that was likely distracting. Now she undid that and started to squeeze it dry.

“I feel moist,” Rem said. She wiggled, and water sloshed off her butler’s uniform. “I didn’t feel that underwater. This is stupid.”

I opened the door to let the rest of the water flow out, then cast a quick Prestidigitation of my own to dry myself and the others. “Well then, shall we continue?” I asked.

The carriage rode on. We had exited a little ways away from the overrun camps, and so had to travel over to where the prisoners were waiting.

On arriving, we stepped out in a manner that couldn’t quite be called orderly to find the two dozen or so men we’d captured kneeling on a cleared space, the one mantis in their midst sitting at the front. Limpet’s undead, as well as some dozen more reinforcements, circled the group a little ways away. Skeletons with spears lowered and bows held at the ready.

“Well, go greet them,” I said to the limpet.

She swallowed, hugged her spellbook close, then hesitated. “Could the wisp glow a bit brighter please? It’s hard to see.”

I nodded to Seventeen, and the ambient lighting rose as the dozens of wisps above brightened and cast pale light across the clearing.

The limpet stepped up and held her back taller. “Ah, hello everyone,” she said. “I’m... call me the limpet. I’m the person who ordered the assaults on your camps, and to whom you’ll be surrendering to this evening. Um, who will I be accepting the surrender from?”

The mantis in the group scrambled to her feet, slid in the sand, crashed to her face, then got up again. “Mem! Mem is the one surrendering and Mem is the one asking that you don’t be Mem to her humans.”

“Uh.”

I held back a snort. Be Mem to her humans! What an interesting bit of punnery.

The limpet shook her head. “No. If you’re the one in charge, then I have questions for you. I promise I won’t hurt your men unless they try to escape, nor do I intend to turn them to undead.” Not that she could do that on her own. Haha! A bit of technical truthfulness could go a long way.

Mem the mantis hesitated, then nodded hard. “Mem will come and answer things.”

“Ah, great,” the limpet said. She turned towards me, then hissed. “Where do we do that?”

I considered it. We could return to the fortress, but that was distant, and would likely reveal where the army was hidden. “I don’t think we require anything special to do something as simple as ask a few questions. The far side of the carriage ought to do.”

The limpet nodded, and soon two skeletons moved to either side of the mantis and escorted her over to where we were.

“Rem?” Mem said.

“Mem,” Rem replied.

“You’re okay!” Mem said. “You look so pretty.”

Rem huffed. “Stupis Mem, I don’t look any different.”

Mem made herself a little smaller. “Mem just thought that your new clothes are nice.”

Rem looked away. “Thanks. They're butler clothes. That’s what Rem is becoming now.”

“Wow! What’s a butler?” Mem asked.

Alex curtsied. “Greetings, Mem. A butler, to answer your question, is someone whose entire work revolves around caring for the needs of a master, or a master’s household. They, like a maid, clean and repair and maintain things. They also combat against any opposition that faces their master.”

“Are you a butler too?” Mem asked.

Alex shook his head “I’m a maid.”

“Mem thinks you’re pretty.”

I watched, amused, as Rem’s arms shot up and she stepped between Mem and Alex. “Don’t talk to Alex. He’s busy doing stupid maid things.”

“It’s okay,” Alex said. “I have plenty of time to address questions about maidcraft.”

Rem hissed. “Mem will ask stupid questions, then she’ll want to be a maid or something.”

“Really?” Alex asked, his curiosity peaked.

Rem hissed harder. “No! I mean... she’ll hate it, and be bad at it. Don’t talk to her... go cook things, the limpet looks hungry.”

Alex stared. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine! Stupid!”

The limpet cleared her throat. “Okay everyone, this is meant to be, uh, not whatever this is, I don’t think. Rem, be less jealous please, and Miss Mem, could you sit down for a moment? We have many questions to ask, right?” This last sentence she asked while turning my way.

I nodded. We did have a few questions to ask, but perhaps this was a good time to show a certain old technique for pulling information out of people.

“Miss Mem, could you please tell us all the story of how you came to be here? You and that small army accompanying you.”

Mem nodded. “Mem can do that!” she said. “It all started a few weeks ago...”

***