The Sketch Rift: The Eternal Crusade

Incompetent Housekeepers

"So where is the Crusade right now, Hemingway?" Soal was unaware of their guides' knowledge in this aspect. "I don't suppose they just stay fixed in one position, do they?"

"Well," Hemingway shrugged, "they're always roaming around at a fairly speedy pace, usually finding a newer, better location with which to house the Ambassador, or to temporarily close in on shadowy threats that sometimes leak from the Seal of Demons as the Sketches rot. Wardens of the Seal have sometimes even reported hearing Half-Characters die as they attempt to escape. Anyway, I have been informed that they are on the move right now."

"That's grisly enough for me," Irene was reminded subtly of her own Half-Character army in the time of the Revolutes. "But I want to hear your opinions on Ivel's performance thus far."

"Oh," Gnat scowled to herself, "he's very... dedicated, and very passionate. It almost brings him to his breaking point for every mission. Hemingway tells me that Count is even more stressed with Ivel than he was with Kurst. That's saying much."

Little more exposition was granted as the four of them continued their journey on foot to... wherever the Crusade currently happened to be. Hemingway must have possessed an internal compass to direct him, because he spoke little of how he came to know of the Crusade's movements and even less about how they were supposed to catch up. Gnat was trustworthy, but there still remained a quality of her that held a smidgen of disdain towards Hemingway. She remained unusually quiet through the journey, which took only a couple of hours under a hazy, cloudy sky, and over many familiar rolling slopes.

When those couple of hours had passed, a grand formation promptly arose on the horizon in a somewhat narrow valley separating two taller ranges. The massive army of approximately (from Soal's eyes) fifteen hundred was arranged in a mobile X-shape, any threat that approached attacked by two different forces. At its head was a moderately stout figure, only slightly taller than Soal, whose physical appearance and attire was indistinct from afar -- but Soal was clearly conscious that this was Commander Ivel, pulling ahead to direct movements.

As soon as Hemingway stepped in front of the others in the foursome, arms crossed, Ivel acknowledged his presence nearly immediately and turned his head to the pseudo-Sulukridger, as if magnetized to his presence. The Commander held out his palm to infer a halt and beckoned swiftly for them all to come down to him.

Hemingway turned his head once more before trotting over to Ivel and pointed his index finger back in the opposing direction, prompting Gnat, Soal, and Irene to turn in that direction also. This was merely a trick. When they turned back after noticing nothing that was not there before, Hemingway was already at Ivel's side in the front of the army, while an alarmed foursome-turned-trio followed Hemingway's hand signals to the side of the X-shape, adjacent to that of Hemingway's and Ivel's, both protected by two sides of the formation. From their assumption, Hemingway and Ivel were already in the midst of a semi-pleasant conversation.

"Does he do this all the time?" Irene inquired aloud to Gnat. Soal's facial expression was all he needed to convey his current emotions. The Crusaders now half-surrounding them seemed to listen in on the conversation, but did not do much to give the message that they cared in the slightest.

"Probably not," Gnat's teeth chattered lightly. "But it hasn't been long since I came to know him. Both of you have known him longer, and will know him longer."

*     *     *

In due time, Hemingway regrouped with his original threesome and attempted to stay placid with them as they scrutinized his previously bizarre locomotive methods. Remaining tranquil, they all trailed Ivel's leadership and the leathery, armor-clad Crusade's entrapment (or protection) of their intruders, who were feeling almost welcomed and expected by the army. Perhaps it was simply Hemingway's split-second speech with the Commander that persuaded him that they were of worth to them.

The Crusade eventually merged back into the square-type formation popularized among Soal's kiwis by Moth's tactics, and marched into obscure ruins: gnarled pillars, smashed and tormented by centuries of neglect, and nearly brown with mud, formed a trapezoidal ring around what appeared to be an ancient temple coated in soil; small enough to defend the Ambassador (hypothetically) from exterior threats, but far too minuscule for the demands of the Crusade itself. The region within the pillars would get the job done. As weighty backpacks were unloaded, colorless makeshift tents were pitched on the flat terrain, and Ivel took to settling a concealed Ambassador in the temple's interior, Hemingway cleared his throat in the center of the trapezoidal territory.

"Master Bringer, you may be unaware of the origins of this place," he explained. "Well, neither is anyone. They call it Northwest Waise, a division of a greater series of temples over the river to the east of here. I theorize that the Fviron have paid visits to this planet before, in a centuries-long ritual, and settled in this place for spiritual reasons, devising these temples from Earth's resources to praise their mightiest deity, the Kyu -- er, nothing."

"I've always thought that Waise was independent of the Fviron's 'ever-reaching' influence," Gnat offered her own proposal to the situation. "and that humans were the ones responsible. But then again, what kind of design is this? The temple itself looks like it was designed by a surrealist architect."

"Well, whatever Waise is supposed to be," Soal was eager to communicate with the Ambassador, after overseeing his vague silhouette shrouded by Crusaders as he entered the gates of the temple. "I need to see the Ambassador. Irene, you do, too. Hemingway, you know this, and this should be obvious to you. And because I am now speaking without contractions, I am definitely not lying to you." Irene chortled at the thought of Soal's remark, but Gnat and the pseudo-Sulukridger were unmoved.

"Despite his near-foolishness, Ivel has trust in you two," Hemingway refused Gnat an opportunity to speak. "as does the Ambassador. Natasha and I will see through that we have a place with the Crusade for now, outside the structure that you, Master Bringer, must enter to consult who is now our fearless leader. Be vigilant to avoid his misunderstandings, and pay your respects when necessary. Off you go."