Dodge: Serial 120

Losha and Virel begin their quest to unite the clans of Aste. They travel to Besnol in search of one who can help them, only to stumble directly into conflict.

Serial 120: Shansala

June 30th, 48 S.D.         11:41        Besnol, Central Plains

    As the summer’s sun rose high, nearly beaming at its greatest height, a squadron of Besnol soldiers rode along on horseback. Cutting through tall, verdant grass, they made their way towards a small village in the distance. Although the Besnol clan claimed the territory as their own, they permitted numerous minor clans to settle here and there. The Besnol did not see the harm in allowing them to set up residence. In fact, through a little creative taxation, the lesser clans actually proved advantageous. The mission of these soldiers was to enforce one such collection today.

    At the first signs of the Besnol’s approach, a collective murmur spread about the villagers. Among the growing chatter, people scurried away to hide the children and elderly out of sight. Their homes were but simple, wooden huts with thatched roofs, yet anywhere felt safer than outside. A nervous atmosphere began to brew as the horses drew nearer. Each moment, as the armed men moved upon them, everyone sensed an impending, imminent disaster.

    “Shrieks, they are here already,” one man said as he sat down, holding his forehead in his hands. “Damn, it will be me next, I know it.”

    “At this rate, it will be all of us,” said a woman behind him, stooping and gently grabbing his shoulders. “What more are they going to ask this time?” she frowned.

    “End of the month, end of the line,” said an older gentleman, one who had refused to leave the open. “I swear, it is as if they want to ruin us.”

    “That may be the plan, grandpa” a young lass beside him said.

    “Do not think like that!” her mother chastised. “Do not say things like that... Just, please...” The woman’s voice began to falter.

    Over at a large hut standing in the center of the village, a bespectacled man poked his head from the curtains covering the entrance. He was Gandian, pale faced, stubbled just a bit, and had disheveled hair running down to his shoulders. Quickly, he glanced about before finding the soldiers coming for them. His mouth gaped for a moment, then he ducked back into the hut as he alerted someone.

    “Riva!” He said. “R-Riva, the Besnol are here! Please, come quickly!”

    A few seconds passed as some shuffling could be heard inside. All at once, however, a woman came out swiftly, tossing the curtains to either side of her as she strolled out. Though she was relatively youthful, her face was serious. Her eyes focused ahead as she walked hurriedly, purposefully. Riva wore her hair in a bun and donned a dress that fell just above her knees. As was the custom of her clan, she carried by her side a long, red staff engraved with many intricate, curving characters. This had been a symbol of leadership to her people, and now circumstances had forced it upon her hands. Even so, Riva held it firmly as she walked out into the village.

    The others took note of her presence, and a hush descended over them all. She marched past several more clan members before halting altogether near the end of the village. Standing with her legs apart, she held the staff parallel to the ground; her fingers wrapped around either end. Without wavering, she merely stared straight ahead at the soldiers.

    “Riva,” a bearded fellow said, coming up to her side. “Tomorrow is the new month. They have come to collect what is due. But whatever they ask is going to be too much!”

    “I know that, Sefna.”

    “That is why... Shrieks, let them take me this time.”

    Though Riva’s line of sight never budged, for an instant, her eyes narrowed. “They shall not take anyone. Not today.”

    “Just let them take me. I have no kids, no wife. I am expendable. If someone has to go, it ought to be someone willing.”

    “No one leaves,” she said emphatically. The man shook his head and left.

    Soon, the Besnol soldiers entered the village. Seeing Riva before them, they immediately moved towards her. The Field Lead of the squadron broke off a bit to speak with her. Still on his horse, he towered over the woman.

    “A new face dons the red staff. I say, girl, who are you?”

    “Riva Shansala.”

    “Well, of course you are Shansala; this is your village,” the officer said. “What happened to the other chap, the one who used to wield that little rod of yours?”

    “If you speak of my brother, your kind took him last month.”

    “Ah, I see. That was another squad on collection duty that time, so I did not realize that had happened to him,” he said, stroking his chin before shrugging. “Well, shall we get down to business?”

    Briefly, Riva’s mouth curled to the side, but the Field Lead didn’t seem to notice. “This month is the same as it has been all year. We cannot make the payment. Now that you have implemented such drastic increases, it is beyond our ability to meet our scheduled tribute.”

    “Tribute?” the Besnol soldier asked with a moment of laughter. “Lady, these are called ‘taxes’. The Shansala may live beside Besnol, but make no mistake, this is our land. If we demand a little money for rent or for protection against other clans, that is our right. And it is quite a reasonable proposition.”

    “Reasonable?” Riva questioned, raising an eyebrow. “The sums you have sought this year are well out of our means. We are mere herders of the plains. The only protection we need is from Besnol itself, especially as they abduct us.”

    “Do not get insular with me, woman,” the Field Lead warned as his horse stamped closer by two steps. Riva did not move however. “Failure to meet such financial obligations would have long since seen the Shansala expelled from our territory, ordinarily. We Besnol were gracious enough to allow you to stay, on the condition that a number of you worked off your debt.”

    “You stole them from the village by force, ripping them right out of this community to become servants at best, or slaves more likely. And still, next month, with our population dwindling, you expect us to give you even more money. What madness drives you?”

    “Watch your language, wench,” the Field Lead growled. “This is quite a deal for a minor clan like yours. So what if you all become indentured? Is it any better to be slaughtered like the Gaval clan who rebelled against our new tax system? Or perhaps you would favor being cast out altogether, to be thrown to the wolves?”

    “Honestly,” Riva said, tightening her hands around the staff. “I would rather take my chances.”

    “Hmph. Well, until you do, your payment is due. Today. Now, let me see. If you have not the money, 10 people is the usual quota. But who shall we sieze?” He rode past her slowly. “We have enough able-bodied men. Perhaps your women will do next.”

    Riva jumped in front of the officer, standing defiantly ahead. “You shall take no one,” she said, glaring at him.

    “Hmm... Now that I think about it carefully, your body looks quite able to me,” he grinned as he considered a host of improper thoughts. “Sa! Come on squad! Round up all the ones you find suitable. 10 only, remember that. Well, 9 actually. This little miss is coming with me.”

    Suddenly, something struck the Field Lead across the face, slamming against his cheek. The blow flung him to the side and off his horse. As he collapsed onto the ground, he soon pushed himself up and rubbed the reddening welt just below his eye. He worked his tongue around his mouth, tasting blood, then spat into the grass. Slowly, he looked up and saw Riva standing near him. Panting, shaking, she held the staff after having swung it. Her expression was flush, but her eyes spoke of determination.

    “You. Stupid. B***h!” the Field Lead snarled as he stood up. His teammates galloped shortly behind him, but he threw out his arm to stop them. Though she quivered, Riva brought up her staff as if to strike again. “This one is mine, boys. Heh, I will show you how to deal with trashy, low-life minor clans.” He rolled up his sleeves, intending to fight barehanded, forgoing his short sword. No sense in chopping up the goods, he thought. He still wanted to bring her along with him. The Field Lead only took one step towards her before a foreign voice reached out to them.

    “What the hell is going on here?” Someone yelled.

    Everyone froze upon hearing this person as many wondered just who dared to interrupt the tension rising in the air. From the west, parting their way through thick prairie overgrowth, Losha and Virel appeared at one side of the village. The Field Lead grumbled and cursed as he squinted at the serialists. Riva, still shocked by her own actions, only spared a fleeting glance; the rest of the Shansala warily observed the whole situation from afar.

    “Is this the right place?” Losha asked Virel as she walked out. The Sofos held onto the reins of their horses as she followed. “I cannot say for sure, but I believe this may well be where we need to be.”

    “Good enough. Stay over here. Looks like we made it just in time.” She walked towards the stalled fight. “What is this?” Losha demanded.

    The Field Lead eyed her suspiciously, noting the militant appearance of her fatigues. “Who the f**k are you?” he countered. “Unless you have business, butt out! You look like a stranger in these lands. We do not take kindly to strangers in these days, you know.”

    Losha ignored him and continued to advance. “Is he bothering you?” she asked Riva as she stood away from both with her hands on her hips. Riva looked at her quickly, sucked in her lips as she turned back to the Field Lead, but ultimately said nothing.

    “Listen here, stranger, she hit me! Now, unless you are here to pay their monthly share, get moving.”

    “Hmm... So this is about money, sa?” Losha pulled out a large gold coin from her pocket. Upon his death. Master Eltin had left a very large fund at Palostrol. That money had been used to run the school, but when Nabel killed her master and kidnapped her fellow students, the amount was left to her. 16 years ago, she’d only spent a miniscule portion of it to travel home with Denze and Mesel. Ever since then, however, it had largely gone untouched. She always kept a few pieces with her when she went anywhere, just in case. The Field Lead’s attention was immediately stolen by the precious metal.

    “I do not know what this dispute is about, but will this suffice to calm everyone down?”

    “Shrieks, that is worth a year of taxes...” he breathed.

    “Taxes?” Losha frowned, holding the coin in front of her eye. “I hope you have not been extorting these good people.”

    “Ha!” the officer cried. “Extortion? No such thing in Besnol. Whatever our clan wants to do, we can. We own this place.”

    “But you do not own us!” Riva blurted, rattling her staff. “You take us against our will and do as you please. Brother and uncle have both become victims of your ‘program’, as have countless others. No more, least of all me!”

    “Wait, so, you snatch people from this place?” Losha asked.

    “Sa! The b******s cannot pay what they owe, so they get put to work for Besnol. Now, hand over that coin, stranger. We might consider letting you off easily if you get out of here.”

    “I am giving it to you to pay the debts of these people, not as travel fare.”

    “That is not for you to decide. The Shansala are the ones who have to pay. You just worry about getting out of here with your life.”

    “So you plan to take both them and my money?” Losha shrugged and sighed as the Field Lead held out his hand. “Whatever.”

    For an instant, Losha feigned as if she were going to give him the coin. Rapidly, however, she moved her other hand towards him, pounding him in the temple. The angled hook knocked him out almost at once. By the time he hit the dirt, his consciousness was already gone. Silence hung within the village as everyone could but look aghast at the unfolding events. On all sides, disbelief gave them pause. Had someone really just assaulted the Besnol soldiers, not once, but twice? A cold dread filled the Shansala while the Besnol grew incensed. Losha, unaffected, withdrew the arm she had extended to punch. She looked at her fist and flexed her fingers.

    “Ksh,” she shook her head. Walking past Riva, she put her hand on the staff and lowered it. “Let me handle this.” Riva could only go along with the plan, for Losha went ahead without regard to any objections.

    “F-Field Lead!” one of the soldiers shouted.

    “Sa, you have once chance to pick up your friend and leave,” Losha declared. “Otherwise, we are going to have to sort things out physically.”

    Blustering with indignation, the soldiers roared together as they sent their horses galloping towards Losha.

    “Hmph,” she frowned again, pocketing her coin.



    Not more than a few minutes later, the Field Lead slowly awoke, at least partially. With a pulsing, ringing soreness, his left eye gradually opened; the other was too swollen to see. As his head swirled, as pain throbbed across his face, he could but make out the grass below him. For some reason, the ground was moving beneath him, so it seemed. His presence of mind returned somewhat as he realized he was actually suspended and being carried.

    He was brought to his horse and thrown on his stomach onto the saddle. A series of ropes were tied around him, securing his body to the horse. It hurt to look around, but he turned his neck and found the rest of his men restrained just like him. Groggily, he groaned as he looked to the left. Blinking, the officer saw Losha tugging the last knot.

    “Wazzz...” he slurred; his one puffed up cheek and cut lips made it difficult to speak. “Wat... happint...” he tried to ask, a little unsure of who Losha was or even the circumstances of what was going on. Losha looked him in the eye as she said farewell.

    “Valanya!” she smiled as she smacked the horse’s rear. The creature neighed and tossed itself high on two legs. “Yaaaa!” Losha yelled, causing the group of animals to go into a frenzy. With a jolt, the horses raced back to the north, taking the beaten and bruised soldiers with them. Before the Field Lead knew what was happening, he was whisked away from the village. He saw Losha turn away and walk towards the Shansala, but her image only grew farther from his sight, eventually fading among the plains.

    Now that the soldiers had been dealt with, Losha returned to the minor clan. Even with the Besnol gone, the people seemed on edge, cautious of Losha and Virel. Only a few folks crept slowly from their homes to see what was going on. Riva appeared stunned as she continued to look at the horizon. What have we done, she thought. Attacking that Field Lead had been a very poor choice, a moment of frustration and desperation that would come back to bring severe consequences to the clan. It would almost certainly drive the Besnol to punish them, perhaps far worse than she could imagine. And this outsider, the woman who had single-handedly bested 10 soldiers, she had not helped matters at all... And yet, there was no taking back their actions.

    “That takes care of them,” Losha said as she walked up to Riva.

    “But... they will be back, vengeful, with greater numbers. Shrieks. We are in a bad way now.” Riva dropped her head. Losha gave another shrug as Virel came up with their horses.

    “So? If they come back with more soldiers, I can tackle them just fine.”

    Riva looked up at Losha, incredulous. “Are you out of your mind? I admit, defeating that lot, unarmed as you were, was quite impressive, but could you take on a horde of them? An army?”

    “It would not be the first time,” Losha replied. “I suppose I am something of a veteran. I have been in a fair number fights myself, big ones, small ones.”

    “But do you intend to stand against all of Besnol?”

    “The road I am on may well bring me against their entire clan, sooner or later. If they want to fight me, I will not say no.”

    Riva frowned uneasily but shook her head. “I do not think either of us helped create an ideal situation, yet I must thank you all the same. If you had not shown up, they would have taken our people again and forced us into labor. Still, what we did here will have grave repercussions for the Shansala. The Besnol will surely retaliate against the dishonor we have done them.”

    “Ksh. They can come at you as much as they want. The bodies will just keep piling up on their end.”

    Riva raise her brows curiously as she stared at Losha. “Just who are you? Who would simply come out of nowhere and risk themselves for a minor clan such as ourselves? And who would speak so boldly?”

    “We are looking for a certain person around these parts. If there is trouble, I really cannot just let it continue.”

    “Perhaps,” Virel interrupted, smiling, “we could discuss things inside? We can also get to the matter of introductions.”

    “Sa... Very well. Please follow me.” Riva turned and walked towards the hut in the middle of the village. Losha and Virel kept away a few paces as they whispered among themselves.

    “Do you know who we need to find?” Losha asked.

    “No. I know it is here, but exactly who, I am yet unsure...”

    “That is alright,” Losha said, unconcerned. They’d find the one who could help them unite the Central Plains, somehow, eventually.

    Virel tied the horses to a nearby post while Losha and Riva went into the hut. Pushing past the curtains, they stepped upon an expansive woven rug that spread out in a large circle. There was but one central room here, a place filled with books, documents, and various wooden carvings. The art pieces were like discs, finely sanded and engraved with ornate, smooth symbols, emblems of the Shansala. A group of pillows and cushions sat in the middle, surrounding a low, square table. Off to one part of the hut, the Gandian man with the glasses cradled a notebook in his palm. Sensing that others were entering, he turned his head.

    “Riva!” he exclaimed, standing up. “W-what happened out there? Is the village alright? Please, tell me they did not take anyone else this time.”

    Riva held up her hand to calm the man. “Ver Welton, do be at ease. Everything is fine, for the time being at least...”

    “Fine?” he asked, still confused. “But the soldiers, the taxes?”

    “The issue has been handled already,” Losha said.

    “Well, sa, but.... How did-  I mean... Wait, pardon me, Riva, who are these two guests?” Ver Welton adjusted his glasses as he looked at the serialists carefully.

    “She drove the Besnol off, for now,” Riva explained.

    “Drove them away? B-by herself?!”

    “It was only 10 of them, poorly trained and disorganized,” Losha said, folding her arms.

    “Still, to take them down-” Welton started, but Riva again gestured at him.

    “We can tell you more later, my friend, but first we must sit down to talk.”

    “Ah... sa... Of course.”

    They gathered around the table and began familiarizing themselves with each other. Riva sat on her knees with her staff across her lap.

    “My name is Riva Shansala. I am the current head of our clan. The role was previously fulfilled by my brother, Lori, however, he is being forced to work off our so-called debt to the Besnol. This is Doctor Garret Welton,” Riva said, sweeping her hand to the side. “He is what they call an anthro... anthro...”

    “Anthropologist,” Welton said. Riva ever struggled to remember his occupation. “I study people, their cultures, communities, and interactions, especially those in the Central Plains. I am researching life in this region, and the Shansala were gracious enough to let me spend the summer here,” he smiled. Both Losha and Virel found themselves surprised at how well he spoke their language.

    “You are travelers?” Riva wondered.

    “Something of that nature,” Virel answered. “I am Virel Sofos. I too come from a minor clan, though we have never seen anything like what the Besnol are doing to you.”

    “It was not always such a hostile relationship. But, so much has changed over the years,” Riva sighed. “Digressing, how are you called...?” she asked, looking at the other serialist.

    “My name is Losha Holvate Sventa, but I am better known simply as the Wolf.”

Author's Note

15 years ago, Losha Holvate Sventa fought to bring peace between Sventa and Henron. Though calm has been established between these two major clans, the larger situation has not been resolved. Time has passed, but the Central Plains are still a violent place, seething with anger and hatred. All it takes is a simple scratch, and everything will come rushing to the top. From the shadows, one underground group aims to do just that using the strength of serialization. Now an abandoned hero, Losha must once more rise to save these lands from the destructive power of the art. Yet as the actions of her past confront the Wolf, can she find the will to stand against the one behind it all, her very own son?

The next installment comes April 27, 2016. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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* For the next few serials, it looks like Losha and Virel are out on a detour. Determined once again to see her vision of the Central Plains a reality, Losha follows Virel's lead into Besnol territory about someone who can help her quell the violent lands. Remember, her goal is two-fold. 1) Eliminate the Zeroes and 2) unify the Central Plains. To her, actually, they're two sides of the coin. One cannot exist without the other being achieved. With the Zeroes present, there can be no peace between the clans. With the clans warring with each other, there will always be a role for the Zeroes and other mercenaries like them to fill. Her trip to Besnol is not completely unrelated to her other battle with the Zeroes. Who knows, she might even find a connection to the mysterious group somehow.

* At any rate, this marks Losha's proper return as the Wolf. She has long since avoided calling herself by that name ever since the incident in Angali, ever since she left Sventa. Now, however, she adopts the name that made her famous. In doing so, she shows the Central Plains who she is. It also alerts the Zeroes that she is active again. Like Virel said, Losha needs to stop acting from the shadows. If she wants to change the Central Plains and defeat the Zeroes, she has confront everything out in the open.

* The Shansala are mostly sheep herders. The architecture seen across the plains runs the gamut of exotic buildings like the dome buildings of Sventa, to the semi-Gandian inspired housing seen in Henron, to more basic constructions like the wooden huts of Shansala. Some folks across the plains still even favor elaborate tents, especially among the more nomadic minor clans that travel between various major clans for the seasons.

* It seems I have been adding a lot of new characters already in this story arc (Simona Hart, Ver Lada Sventa, Irvis Delte Sventa, Viro Kalon, Migal Kalon, the Jackal, and now Riva Shansala and Garret Welton). Some of them are minor and have already played their roles I envisioned, but most of them have yet to finish their acts. You can expect Riva and Garret to stick along for the rest of this ride.

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Any feedback is welcome. Just writing because I like it. Always wanted to make a weekly series, so I'm doing it.