[WP] Someone in the group is going to die.

...

Someone in the group is going to die.

You don't get to survive for as long as I've managed without accepting this sort of statement as reality. It's not all sunshine and dandelions out there: bad-shit tends to happen with a rather impressive and consistent lack of discrimination. Good people, bad people, even sorta-okay people, it doesn't make a difference really. People bite the dust sometimes. Over the last few years I've been attacked by all number of magic and mystical bullshit, even sent off to fight a war. So trust me when I tell you: Someone in this group is going to die.

I've got a really good eye for knowing when this is inevitable.

But

Sure as shit, I'm not about to go raising any flags, and I'm not going to try and scare anyone. In fact, I'm not even going to hint at the possibility. That's one of the big rules here within Adventure Team High-Undying, formerly known as team Barnacle. There are no last minute:

-Love confessions

-Proposals

-Cliche movie-lines such as (but certainly not limited to) the following statements "I've taught you everything you need to know" or "No one has managed to invade Doterra's holy wall for hundreds of years!" or "This city has never fallen to invaders!"

-Absolutely no overly optimistic hope for the future may be vocally expressed.

No. None of that.

Not allowed.

The rules are very strict. As team leader and Highest Captain of the Royal Guard, I enforce them with a manner akin to religious fervor. I even make my rounds listening for them, because it's very serious business. No one else in this world has a vast experience of Action movies or Television held within their mental reserves, so I really can't afford not to be strict.

They don't know any better.

Ignorance.

It's not their fault. I don't blame them, at least, I don't blame them most of the time.

Now, with that in mind I'll go through the situational briefing as always. Perfectly normal pep-talk routine with a round-table and King Arthur twist. Swords and weapons on the wall, flags and houses proudly displayed beside perfect stone blocks and painted glass windows. All an all, very inspiring.

If you listen to my monotone words and vague gestures, I think I fit the picture of a small-company project manager, which is also very inspiring.

I have my core team-members with me, the esteemed level directly below my High-rank here in the Guard. They're extremely reliable folk: First is my trusted second in command- Sola the Dark Elf. If you look there, she's the one who appears to be napping on the table, and drooling a bit. I'll lay the blame on her Night-shift for the Princess's Guard; unfortunately she's having difficulties pulling a double.

There's no coffee in the meeting. At best they have some weak tea, which might be poisoned.

It's a risk, though sometimes I partake anyways because I do miss coffee.

Not one to lay blame here, just stating the facts. This Country is deeply lacking, and it saddens me.

That's alright though, as the rest of my core team is awake and alert- for the exception of young Lars, who is also napping and drooling. Still, three out of five isn't terrible. Julius, Sandra, and Eron are attentive to my instructions. They'll fill Sola and Lars later, if I don't get the chance.

Really, the problem comes from the other ten people at the table. The Redshirts for lack of a better description.

Well, they're not wearing red, so I can do better than that actually. They're wearing armor, really impressive pieces in some cases, with the fancy gold and silver inlays and the feather topped plumes on their helmets- noble house stuff. Still, they're redshirts to me. Names, faces: Not important.

I'm a bit of a bastard, but I blame the world that molded me.

But bastard or not, personally I think wearing armor this early in the day is silly considering it's going to be full hours until we end up in combat. I guess even if I call them redshirts, in reality they're not much for taking chances. They actually follow the book, treating threats seriously and following up on things. The heavy armor makes quite a bit of sense considering the Royal Guard's creed is "Always Vigilant."

That quote would be much more inspiring if I wasn't the person in charge.

The premise alone is enough to make me chuckle, or it would be if I wasn't in perfect Project Manager form. I say this because, technically speaking, I'm the least qualified Captain of the Royal Guard to exist. Ever, probably. I wasn't born a noble, I wasn't trained from birth, and my resume has zero previous experience in protecting anything but my own hot-crossed-buns.

That's three strikes right there.

But

At the same time as all that might be true, I'm also one of the few living people in the Country of Doterra not well-affiliated with the Holy Church, and I'm the leader of a rather intimidating Adventuring Party to boot. Politically speaking, that puts me both in the Royal house's favor, and very much on the Church's bad-side.

A Unique combination of significant importance.

Translation for normal people not involved with the messy and confusing turmoil of Inner-Country Politics: I'm not likely to assassinate the Royal heir, because the Church would take my head and stick it on a pole the moment the Royal house stopped protecting me. Ergo: I'm a very reliable pick, during an unreliable time.

How reliable? You want to know the number assassins tried to kill the Royal heir last month?

Seven.

Seven people, five knives, one crossbow, and some poisoned tea: and that's below average. Previously, in the summer months we often hit double digits. I don't know where the church even finds them anymore. I would have thought they might run out eventually.

Seriously.

So anyways: Not wanting the Princess dead is kind of a big deal. It also just so happens, that I have a very well-recorded history for killing things before they kill me, and several powerful subordinates who jump when I tell them to, and by jump I mean cast Lightning or crush skulls. So, at least I got that going for me, which is nice.

In theory, I mean.

Right now, two of those impressive minions are drooling on the table. Not even my well-rounded and business tone is bringing those heads up and eyes open, no respect I tell you.

The rest of the gathering happen to be listening intently though; even the Redshirts.

That's good. Personally, I take that to mean I must be doing something right. They're nodding along with thoughtful expressions and everything, really taking my briefing here to heart. My goal of being a successful project manager seems to be coming to fruition, and my hand-gestures are spot on today. Very professional.

My parents would be so proud.

Ah. What's the briefing about, you ask?

Well, you know, just boring things. Ordinary sorts and ends.

Trivial details, like: What shifts will be Guarding the Royal heir personally in the coming days, or who will be issuing orders to the noble troops that have bent knee to the Heir in favor of her. There's a little bit of "who will be collecting the taxes" and other things needed to stockpile supplies for the royal-funded city garrisons, and "who will be sucking up to the Holy church" to get them to help us with this" (even though everyone here knows the Church would rather see the Royal house dead and buried) seeing as it's currently in their best interests.

There are details for who will be leading the Cavalry unit (very exciting and heroic for most Royal Knights- a great honor some might say) and another for who will be along the high gates with the bowmen and mages (less of an honor, but still seen as very important) or standing next to the Royal Heir when all the bad things start to happen.

Personally, the core-team of High-Undying has dibs on that last role.

Certainly it's not the position in high-demand. A politically sound motion to be sure, honorable in at least some lighting, but not the type of thing that will get the bards singing about you. Not when there are cavalry battles to fight. Also, it's probably going to be the least dangerous job during the next few weeks, even with the noted number of assassins creeping out of the woodwork.

Least Dangerous? Cavalry battles? Wall-top archers? Garrisons? What's that about?

Ah... well, there's a giant army of undead, complete with an Ancient Skeleton Dragon marching towards us from the West.

Like I said before: Someone in the group is going to die.