The General - S01 E28

Story 6 months ago

The General - S01 E28

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 28

"Get up!"

The General's guttural boom awakens me. It doesn't startle me. Mainly because I'm used to him barking at us, and because I'm not a deep sleeper.

I slide off my bed and pull my trousers on. I secure my weapon belts and boots, but don't bother with a shirt. After this drill, I will go back to bed.

"Another drill?" Wirlock, my tent-neighbor, appears beside me. I don't know much about him — I know little about any master, really. It's hard to get to know anyone when they don't speak much about hobbies or their past.

The General is the only Master that shows so much passion in his temperament. I don't think he has been taking his medicine. He got attached to Joan, and losing her has left him baffled.

He's taking his frustration out on us. For the past days, he has been brutal in his trainings. He pairs us up and then takes us one-on-one. Tardiness or amateur mistakes result in the punishment of all Masters.

He is angry at us, as if we were the ones who let Joan go.

I don't understand his attachment to the female. Joan is an enigma. She is a hard worker and sometimes amusing in her peculiar ways, but my medicine does not allow me to develop an attachment to her. It's for the best, because Masters cannot afford distractions. I wish The General would have foreseen this.

He is the strongest among us — not just physically, but mentally, too. He is not as dependent on the medicine, but a few doses would have spared him from getting dismantled the way he is now.

A part of me is curious about this attachment. I don't understand it. It makes no sense.

"Yes, it appears like he's executing another midnight drill," I answer Wirlock.

I turn to face him. He is as expressionless as I am, although there is not much he could express if he wanted to because the left side of his face terribly burnt. I was there when he was marred. The smells and sounds of war were poignant around us. I heard a loud boom that made my teeth clatter. Yves— another Master that fought beside us, was blown up. His four limbs rained on us. I was there to drag Wirlock away to safety, but there was nothing I could do about Yves or the four parts of him.

Yves had been a good male. I think that if I hadn't been on my medicine, I would have mourned him. I have never mourned anyone, having never felt love. From what I've seen, losing a friend is a terrible pain. I have no interest in experiencing it.

"He is getting out of control," Wirlock comments.

Yes, The General is getting brutal, but we recognize that there is no other breathing male with his skill sets. He is a King among warriors, admirable in his strategies and prowess. Even if we reported his unstable condition to the Queen, she would do nothing about it because she knows that without him, we lose the war.

The General is untouchable.

Ironically, he cannot touch Joan — the small and quiet female with more mystery than death itself.

"Pair up," The General instructs, pacing left and right.

Masters can go many days without needing sleep, but I can tell he has pushed his limit. I don't think he has slept since Joan left. His pacing is sloppier, his eyes frantic. He is an ancient ghost of himself.

Wirlock and I face each other. I sigh with boredom, wishing I was fucking an Entertainer instead of tumbling on the dirt with my brothers.

We withdraw two daggers, and we get to work. It's many hours later in the morning when The General dismisses us. In that time, I wrestled, jogged, darted weapons, lifted weights, and fought The General himself. He took us all one-on-one and not even that was enough to exhaust his ire.

I'm irked as I retire to bed. This cycle is getting too repetitive for my liking. My body is strong enough to tolerate training for many hours, but spending ninety percent of the day wrestling is not a fun hobby.

The General needs to...

What is that one word Joan used when I was 'aggressively' stitching? Ah, yes 'chill.' The General needs to 'chill,' although I'm not sure what him being cold has to do with relaxing. I wish I would have asked Joan more about this strange saying.

I toss my clothes in my tent and walk naked to the nearest river. I spot an Entertainer bend at the waist, offering me her pussy, which I gladly take.

As I rut her, I can only think about how The General should burry his sorrows in an Entertainer as well. Maybe that is what he needs. Unfortunately, he only seems to scowl at any female that passes him, as if annoyed they're not Joan.

He is unhitched, and only Joan can stitch him back together. It is a shame she is gone.

— • —

The sound of commotion wakes me up. It seems like The General is gathering us for another drill.

No. There's too much noise coming from outside. Masters are never this loud, even in training. We only get like this when we're at war.

I pick up a broadsword and run outside, looking for invaders. I find The General atop a Master, pounding his fists into his face.

"I ask again... Where is he?!"

"Where is who?" I ask Wirlock, who stands beside me, watching the violence unfold. It's brutal, but I am used to brutal.

"He is looking for a rodent. A furry beast called Yippy."

I recognize this creature. Joan often had the smelly beast chasing after her. I never understood their relationship.

Why is The General looking for Yippy? He was never fond of it.

"The creature was last seen taken to the kitchen. I think someone cooked him," Wirlock adds.

I see. The General doesn't want to lose Joan's pet.

Seeing that he'll kill everyone until he finds his rodent, I jog away from the scene in search of Yippy. I can only hope that he ran away from the kitchen and is still alive.

I check Joan's tent first, which remains undisturbed because The General has yet to assign it so someone else. I check the kitchen, and with a dwindling hope, I check the river where Yippy always followed Joan and I.

"Yippy!" I yell, searching the darkness. I inhale deeply in search of his foul scent, and I'm led to a small collection of rocks by the bay that forms a cave.

I reach into the dark hole and pull out the furry creature in there. It's him. I run back to camp with the smelly, scared creature in my arms.

"General!" I boom.

He's pounding into another Master, demanding to know where his last connection to Joan is. If I don't return Yippy, he will cut through us all.

He runs to me and snatches Yippy from my arms, frantically checking him for injuries.

"He was by the river," I explain.

He ignores me. "Healer!" He roars, stomping away with the pet.

Wirlock stands beside me. "You did good by finding him. He would have decimated camp."

If The General became so frazzled over a pet, I can only imagine what he would do to find Joan.

"This needs to end," Wirlock says. It's like he has read my mind.

I dip my chin. "There is only one way to end this."

"I am aware," Wirlock returns. "The female. We need to get her back."

I watch The General's retreating back. "Pack your bags, Wirlock. We are riding into the city."

The city is an awful place. Too loud and distracting. I hate it there— we all do, but I'm beginning to hate camp as well. It's getting too loud, and The General is the one creating the noise.

I need Joan to make things quiet again. He was far more tolerable when he could go home to her.

I don't know why Joan left, but her place is here. It is a selfish thing to say, of this I am aware, but we all have curses we didn't ask for.

"I will pack my things," Wirlock answers.

"Good. We must return by tomorrow. Meet me by the river."