Before the World Broke — A Vegetaone Story
Weeks had passed since the guild's last campfire beneath the mountains of Northrend. They had returned to Stonewake, taken up the ordinary work of roads and supplies, and slowly learned what a day felt like when no battle waited at its end.
The strap broke while Vegetaone was explaining that his armor had survived worse.
Supervillain watched the loose breastplate settle against the orc's stomach.
“Apparently it has decided to retire.”
“It needs a strap.”
“And the left knee needs a hinge. Your glove needs fingers.”
Vegeta held up the glove. It had fingers. Most of them.
Envy sniffed it, found nothing edible, and returned to the strip of sunshine beneath the shelter.
Stonewake had changed since the guild's first spring caravan. The storehouse doors stood open now. A woman who once slept with a sharpened piece of wood beside her bed was arguing with Brenna about how much clearance a new door required. Nali's watch board had acquired more names and fewer empty spaces.
For several weeks, the guild had escorted supplies farther inland. They had come back muddy, tired, and together. Luvztospoon still sometimes stayed outside after supper, but sometimes he came in before anyone thought to look for him.
That morning, he sat beside Vegeta with a leather punch in one enormous hand.
“The strap,” Vegeta said, “can be fixed.”
Luvz studied the torn edge.
“So can a roof. You still replace one before it falls on you.”
War leaned against the doorpost.
“You have wanted the rest of those shoulders for months.”
Vegeta looked at the Destroyer Shoulderblades hanging from their hooks. They were the one part of his armor that looked as though it belonged to the warrior he had been trying to become. Everything beneath them looked borrowed from several less organized warriors.
“Wanting isn't a plan,” he said.
Super raised his eyebrows.
“We should preserve this morning.”
The letter came with a quartermaster's bundle.
Kargan's handwriting was recognizable because every line leaned as though trying to escape the page.
If those red swords haven't killed you, Sarn at Thunderlord Stronghold needs someone who understands a heavy load and won't confuse a supply route with a suggestion.
There was more. A mountain forge. A damaged consignment. People stranded beyond a washed approach. Outland had stopped being the center of the Horde's attention; its trouble had not noticed.
At the bottom, Kargan had added that Sarn knew the maker's stamp on Vegeta's shoulders.
Vegeta read that line twice.
Super noticed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“Your face.”
Vegeta folded the letter.
He did not announce that they were leaving.
Sallin still needed the guild's escort on the inland circuit. The letter asked for a pair of strong hands, not four people abandoning their work. Blade's Edge lay beyond ships, roads, the Dark Portal, and another country they had once crossed together.
He put the letter beneath his bowl.
That evening, after the watch had changed, he took it out again.
They discussed it around the table.
Vegeta explained the job before mentioning the armor. Super let him finish both explanations.
“How long?”
“Five or six weeks. Travel included, if the connections hold.”
“If they don't?”
“I write. I don't invent an excuse afterward.”
War looked at the map he had borrowed.
“And if the work is bigger than Kargan thinks?”
“I ask for help.”
Luvz rested his hands on the table. Even sitting, he made the room feel smaller.
“You don't owe us every road you take,” he said.
Vegeta looked toward him.
“I made the guild.”
“Yes.”
“Leaving it feels strange.”
“Then come back.”
The words were quiet. Vegeta remembered giving them to Luvz, and how little they had known about the road ahead.
Super slid the map closer.
“A visit. A job. A return date. We can survive having a founder with an appointment elsewhere.”
“You will miss my practical judgment.”
“Deeply. I may have to inspect a wheel only twice.”
Envy rose, crossed the room, and put her head against Vegeta's leg.
He rubbed the thick fur beneath her ears.
“You are staying with him.”
Super's expression softened before he could prevent it.
“She knows.”
Vegeta spent two days preparing.
He repaired the old breastplate rather than trusting it to survive until the new one appeared. He left Sallin a clear account of their open jobs. He marked his intended route and named the quartermasters who could forward a letter.
War checked the sword scabbards.
Super checked the route.
Luvz inspected the little packet of spare buckles Vegeta had packed.
“You expect another roof?”
“Several.”
The Tauren put a second leather punch beside them.
“Bring this back.”
Vegeta picked it up.
“The tool?”
Luvz met his eyes.
“Start there.”
He left in the morning with a supply wagon bound for the landing.
No one pretended it was a permanent farewell. Super complained about the space his pack occupied. War told him to send a sketch if the mountains proved interesting. Envy followed to the gate and stood beside Super when he called her back.
Luvz gripped his forearm.
Vegeta returned the grip.
“Six weeks,” he said.
“We'll keep your place.”
As the wagon pulled away, Vegeta looked back once.
Four familiar shapes stood beneath the shelter, if he counted Envy the way he always did when he looked rather than wrote a charter.
He turned toward the road.
The empty places in his armor could wait until he reached the forge.
The place behind him was already full.
End of Chapter One