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Grime finally decided to stay at an inn after a week of sleeping in ditches on the side of the road and the occasional camp in the woods. Sasha was being incredibly patient, he thought, with the fact that she hadn’t even come close to something resembling a bath since they finished off Suspicion Island, and anyway they hadn’t seen any signs of further pursuit. They were far enough away from Toad Tower and its surroundings that the odds of anyone recognizing him were low, and more importantly he was pretty sure they were on the last of the supplies they’d prepared before setting out. They were both more than capable of hunting and scavenging on their own, of course, but the idea of a more civilized meal was becoming more compelling by the day. Plus, Grime was almost out of the analgesic tea he’d been drinking to help quiet the bolt wound in his shoulder, and he wanted to re-stock.
He didn’t mention that to Sasha, of course. The girl was dealing with enough - Grime was quite used to near-death experiences, and had fought in his fair share (perhaps more than his fair share, really) of battles, but Sasha… she’d handled herself against the herons well, and her fight against Yunan (Scourge of the Sand Wars, Defeater of oh who the fuck cared, why did Grime even remember any of her stupid introduction?) had been a thing of beauty, really, but the fight against the other human on the tower still gave her nightmares. Grime knew this, because Grime heard Sasha whimpering in her sleep, observed the way that sometimes, Sasha’s shoulders bent under the weight of guilt she carried with her. He had no idea what to do about it, really - but he figured a proper bed and a meal was a good place to start.
So, that morning, after the two had breakfasted, Grime pulled a map out and began looking over it. Sasha seemed surprised to learn of the existence of the map.
“Of course I’ve got a map.” Grime said. “Did you think we were wandering the roads without a plan?”
“I… kind of? I thought we were on the run.”
“We are on the run. But we’re also,” Grime pointed to what was roughly their location on the map, “headed for a destination. We can get there today.”
Sasha crossed her arms and looked at Grime suspiciously. “ Where , exactly?”
“A place,” Grime said patiently, “where we can get some information on what the King is up to - and probably find a few toads sympathetic to our cause.” There was another reason he wanted to visit as well, but for the moment he kept that to himself. The less Sasha knew about that , the better the odds that she might actually relax for a moment. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Also, if I’m remembering right, there’s a nice inn that serves reasonably good food.”
As hoped, the promise of a nice bed and food they didn’t have to prepare themselves caught Sasha’s attention. “You’re sure it’s safe?”
“Absolutely.” Grime said, roughly 75% sure he was telling the truth. “The King is not very popular here - or at least, he wasn’t last time I was around here.”
“Yeah,” Sasha replied, still worried, “but aren’t we uh, you know, representatives of the king to a lot of people?”
“Not here,” Grime grinned, “I was never here as a member of the Toad Army.”
“So nobody knows you became a commander?”
“I never said that ,” Grime shrugged, “I just said they knew me before then. It’s been a long time, and when I tell them the King’s put a bounty on our heads, well, that’ll put us in good company.”
A thought seemed to cross Sasha’s mind and she gave Grime a look that walked the line between suspicious and excited. “Grime, are we going to some kind of outlaw’s haven?”
“ Outlaw may be stretching it a little,” Grime said, hedging just a little, “more like a city with a deeply nuanced relationship to the Newtopian rule of law.”
Sasha huffed a laugh. “Marcy’s gonna be so pissed she missed out on this.”
Grime wondered if Sasha realized the way everything about her softened whenever she mentioned Marcy. He was certainly never going to point that out, of course, because frankly Sasha had enough going on as it was, but he worried about what would happen if Marcy ended up similarly to Anne - or worse, if Marcy hadn’t managed to survive at all. That was a possibility, he was certain, that had crossed Sasha’s mind - or at the very least she’d had a few nightmares about it. Grime needed Sasha focused if they were going to make any headway, needed the Sasha that had figured out the best way to take care of the nascent frog rebellion (and okay she’d miscalculated how much her friend loved the frogs, but it had been effective until then). Any discussion of… feelings would have to wait. It was for the best, Grime thought.
“Well, once we find her I’m certain you’ll be able to tell her all about it.” he said in reply, and was pleased to see his words had the desired effect of keeping Sasha from thinking too hard about the potential fate of her friend.
By the time they reached the town gates, it had started to rain. Grime took that as a blessing, since Sasha with her hood up and face covered would raise fewer eyebrows. Raising his fist, Grime rapped on the gate.
In response, a small porthole opened and the face of a heavily-scarred toad peered out. “Ho there, travelers. What business brings ye here?”
“We seek shelter at the inn,” Grime replied, stepping in front of Sasha, “and, perhaps, any work that needs doing. My colleague and I have many skills which may be found useful.”
“Many skills, huh?” The gatekeeper’s eyes rested on Grime’s club for a moment before flicking over to Sasha. “And yer companion, have they anything to say?”
“My companion’s a creature of few words, you’ll have to forgive her.” Grime smiled in what anyone but another toad would have considered a threatening manner and hoped Sasha had the good sense to keep her mouth shut. “But I will vouch for her conduct, if need be.”
“And why would your vouching for her conduct mean anything tae me?”
Grime snorted. “Frog’s fucking sake, Dunnehaut, you can stop pretending you don’t recognize Grime when he knocks on your gate.”
“Grime?” Dunnehaut feigned confusion. “Nay, this cannot be Grime. Grime, they say, is a washed up vagabond, disgraced and soon to be hauled in by his majesty’s finest hunters.”
“They,” Grime said, mildly, “are mistaken. I also hope they are not to be found here.”
“Absolutely not.” Dunnehaut snorted, throwing the gate wide. “Ye may have lost yer way for a spell, lad, but ‘tis good to see you back on our path.”
“My path,” Grime rumbled, making a small bow and a twitch of his hand to signal the subject of the path ought to be dropped for now, “leads only to the inn, at present.”
“Of course, of course. Ye are both welcome here.” Dunnehaut stepped back and waved the two in. The gate was shut quickly behind them, something Grime did not fail to notice.
“It seems you are less welcoming than in the past.”
“The wild grows wilder all the time,” Dunnehaut said, “and the King’s grip tightens in response. We have learned hard lessons since you were here last. Nay, worry not,” he added when Sasha tensed, “the King’s reach is far, but we are farther.”
Sasha grunted noncommittally, but followed Grime to the inn without further comment. Grime struck up a brief conversation with the innkeeper, collected two keys, gave one to Sasha and led her upstairs.
“That’s your room,” he said, indicating a door, but to his surprise she followed him into his room. “Is there something else, lieutenant?”
“How do these people know you?” Sasha asked, without preamble. “What were you involved in before becoming Captain?”
Grime sighed. He wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to get into everything , but he could at least satisfy some of her curiosity - enough so she wouldn’t have a reason to stop trusting him. “I was a gladiator, as you know. Before I was a gladiator, however, I lived here with my family, and learned to be a mercenary.” Mercenary’s not technically a lie, right?
“Why’d you stop?” Sasha asked, unwittingly bringing up a host of things Grime preferred not to think about. “I mean, why become a gladiator?”
“The mercenary company I was on was… on the wrong side of an engagement.” Grime explained. His bad eye itched, and he resisted the urge to scratch it. “Those that survived - myself included, obviously - were sent to fight in the gladiatorial pits. A chance to earn our freedom, you see.”
Sasha fixed Grime with a look. “So this thing we’re doing isn’t your first rebellion, huh?”
“It wasn’t really a rebellion.” Grime hemmed and hawed. “More like a uh, spirited disagreement over whether or not we’d have to swear fealty to Newtopian rule.”
“I feel like you’re leaving a lot unsaid there Grimesy,” Sasha said, frowning, “but fortunately for you I’m too excited about taking a shower to stick around and demand an explanation now.” With that, she left Grime alone to consider how he was going to explain playing a role in one of the better known uprisings of the last thirty years. Then again, maybe just saying “Oh yes, I got caught up in an uprising and that’s why I only have one working eye, they blinded me before throwing me in the gladiator pits to die” would be enough.
For now, however, he had time to himself - and while Grime was not quite as troubled by long stints without a proper shower in the way he assumed Sasha was, he nevertheless relished the opportunity to clean up a little more. He stripped down and took a close look at his shoulder in the mirror. It was healing nicely, he decided - nicely enough that he felt confident in his plans for later in the evening. Grime was not a particularly meticulous toad, but he exited the shower clean and feeling refreshed. He thought about asking Sasha to reapply the bandage, but decided he could probably risk it. Having a visible bandage was asking for trouble anyway. He dressed again, foregoing armor, and stepped out into the hallway to check on Sasha.
He raised his hand to knock, then hesitated. Very carefully, he leaned against the doorframe to listen for sounds of life. Running water and, to his amusement, the unmistakable sound of someone singing and trying to be quiet about it. Okay, Grime thought , that’ll keep her busy for a while. Long enough for me to have a quick word.
The innkeeper looked up from the front desk as Grime descended the stairs. “Anything I can do for you?”
“There is, as a matter of fact.” Grime replied, smiling hugely and showing his teeth. “I wondered if the Pit was still in operation, and if so, whether or not a meeting to discuss a fight this evening could be arranged in short order.”
“It is,” the innkeeper said, giving Grime another look, “and it can.”
Grime reached into a pouch on his belt, withdrew a few coins, and handed them over. “My thanks. I assume that dinner can be arranged as well?”
“Of course. Will your companion also be dining?”
Grime nodded. “She will.”
“And will she also be… seeking a fight?”
“She will not. In fact,” Grime dug another few coins out and slid them across the counter, “I would very much appreciate if the matter of a fight were handled… in a clandestine manner.”
The innkeeper, to her credit, made no sign. “Of course. Discretion is valuable to many of our guests here.”
Dinner was, as Grime hoped, a deeply enjoyable change of pace from roasting things over a fire or eating whatever vegetation they could forage in the woods. Sasha seemed to have brightened considerably after a shower and food, which was also a good thing.
“Nothing against your cooking skills, Grimesy,” she said around a mouthful of perfectly roasted mushrooms, “but if I’d known we could get food like this I would’ve pushed us to stay in a town a lot sooner.”
“Nothing against your cooking skills, Lieutenant, but if there’d been a suitable town before this one, I would’ve led us there.” Grime laughed. The conversation continued - light and airy and mostly just to pass the time. They had long since finished dinner when the innkeeper caught Grime’s eye and made a small motion of her head in the direction of a familiar toad. The toad was currently sitting in the corner and sipping at what was, undoubtedly, something both fruity and alcoholic. Grime’s attention flicked back to Sasha, who had fallen silent and appeared deep in thought. “Something on your mind?”
Sasha blinked, then shook her head. “Nothing much. Just wondering about our next move.”
“ Your next move,” Grime said, in the tone of voice he reserved for moments where his concern over Sasha’s health - both physical and mental - took center stage, “is to go upstairs and get some rest. We’ll stay here for a few days while I talk to some old acquaintances and get whatever news we can.”
Sasha seemed a little annoyed by the command. “I don’t need rest, I’m-”
“About to fall asleep, Sasha.” Grime said, firmly. His expression softened. “I know you haven’t been sleeping well on the road. Take advantage of this opportunity to sleep in an actual bed. Please.”
Sasha blinked in surprise, then sighed. “Okay, if you say so. Just… you get some rest too, okay? I’m not the only one who could use the rest.”
“Of course,” Grime lied, feeling a little bad about doing so, “I’m looking forward to a proper bed myself.”
“Well then,” Sasha said, standing and flipping an ironic salute, “see you in the morning, Captain.”
Grime grinned and returned the salute. “Lieutenant.”
As soon as Sasha was out of sight, Grime rose and moved to sit in front of the new arrival. The toad grinned. “You, Grime, are a sight for sore eyes. How’s your sister?”
“Still on the High Toad Council, Morgynn, and still insufferable about it.” Grime replied. “Moreso now that I’ve been branded a traitor to the crown, I assume.”
Morgynn’s grin achieved a level of lecherousness not measurable by modern equipment. “Still single too, I hope?”
“I will personally gut you if you try it with her.” Grime replied, cheerfully.
Morgynn laughed and pounded the table. “Ah, it’s been far too long since someone’s threatened my life and really meant it. Then again, strange days are upon us when Grime the Unyielding shows up and asks to fight in the Pit of his own free will. I had understood you were done with the life of the gladiator.”
“In truth,” Grime replied, “I need the money - and fighting in the Pit will help catch interest from those who might wish to hire an escort or two.” Also , he thought to himself, it will help remind people of who I was, rather than who I became.
“Well, you’re in luck.” Morgynn said, leaning back and taking a sip of her drink. “Grog the Destroyer broke his leg trying to do a backflip off the tavern roof, so I need a replacement for his fight against Lothar the Crusher later tonight. You’ve got… three hours before the bout, in case you were going to let your companion in on this plan - or pretend you’ve gone to bed if not.”
Grime grunted and stood. “Three hours, then. See you there, Morgynn - and thank you for this.”
“Hell, Grime, you’re doing me a favor. You know the sort of betting action I’m going to get for the return of Grime the Unyielding?”
“Those who boast of past glories,” Grime said, the words coming to him easily, “should never be trusted to bring present victories.”
Morgynn grinned. “Back on the path, are you?”
“No toad leaves the path,” Grime replied, “they just rest by its side for a while.”
Sasha was asleep, as far as Grime could tell, by the time he returned to his room. He picked up his club, gave it a few practice swings, closed his eyes, breathed in deep. Focused his mind on the coming fight. He was looking forward to it, he realized. Things had become complex - he had a rebellion to build, they were still on the run, the King was up to something, and Grime was becoming increasingly determined to keep Sasha safe - for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely - but a fight? A fight was easy. Simple. It would make money, it would keep them afloat, and it was a way to pay back Sasha for everything she’d done so far. Easy.
As soon as he dropped into the Pit, Grime felt the years fall away. He was no longer an old campaigner covered in disgrace and trying to recover, he was Grime the Unyielding, one of the last toads to fall in the doomed uprising, given to the pit because the crown feared making him a martyr. His blood sang at the thought of a fierce good fight, and if he were actually younger rather than, in truth, something of an old toad, it was likely the fight would’ve ended in seconds. As it was, even a revitalized Grime had lost a half-step in the decade plus since he’d last found himself in a gladiatorial contest, which meant he needed to think a little smarter than perhaps he had in the past. Lothar the Crusher was a frankly enormous newt - not the size of King Andrias by any means, but still sizeable - and wielded a warhammer that he swung with impressive speed. Said warhammer was responsible for an absolutely jarring blow to his ribs, which would definitely be a source of pain later.
Grime had to admit that he was outmatched from a size and speed standpoint, and probably from a strength standpoint as well - but Grime also had skill on his side. Grime had learned to fight at the feet of masters, learning to listen to the song of combat, to cast aside doubt and trust in his own strength and steel (or wood, in this case).
Lothar whirled around, letting the hammer’s momentum carry him on a collision course with Grime. With a bellow, Grime leaped into the air, barely avoiding the hammer’s swing. Flipping in the air, Grime swung the club in a downward arc. Lothar’s speed saved him - he was able to bring the hammer up and deflect the blow, sending Grime flying through the air. Grime let himself go, landed sideways on the wall, and propelled himself back at Lothar’s bulk. He feinted a blow, but when Lothar brought the hammer around to block, Grime reached out with his hand and caught hold of the hammer’s shaft. Momentum carried him around and landed his booted foot directly on the side of Lothar’s jaw. There was a sickening crack as the bones gave way. Lothar grunted and collapsed on the ground in a heap. Grime picked up the warhammer from where it had fallen and raised it over his head in triumph as the crowd cheered.
Morgynn’s voice boomed over the arena. “Victory goes to Grime the Unyielding!”
Grime shouldered the warhammer and crouched next to Lothar’s head. “Hope you don’t mind,” he said dryly, “but by the old ways, this belongs to me now, and I’ve been in the market for a better weapon.”
Morgynn was waiting for him as he exited the arena with his winnings. “That was a fine performance!” she said, clapping him on the back. “They’ll be talking about Grime the Unyielding’s return for weeks! I don’t suppose I could convince you to put on an encore performance?”
It was a tempting thought. The fight had been enjoyable, and while Grime hadn’t exactly escaped unscathed , he was riding the high of victory. The Pit provided a way to earn money, rebuild his reputation, and most tempting of all, he could live in comfort. Assuming you do not die in the Pit and leave Sasha to wander Amphibia like a vagabond , a voice in his head commented. And come on, returning to the life of a gladiator? Your path was not meant to be a circle. Your path is the way of rebellion - the path of blood and steel. Will you not sacrifice comfort to achieve your dream? Will you not sacrifice all?
“You could not,” Grime rumbled, “though I commend you for trying, at least.”
Morgynn gave him a long look. “You’re really going to do it, aren’t you?”
Grime returned the look, unblinking. “Do what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Grimothy.” Morgynn said, the use of his full name making Grime frown. “Your surfacing here of all places could mean one of two things, and since you’ve turned down my offer of returning to the Pit, it means rebellion.”
“As a loyal subject of King Andrias and the Newtopian Empire,” Grime said, feigning ignorance, “I’m certain I have no idea what you are getting at.”
Morgynn snorted. “Only that I wish you good fortune upon the path, and hope that when the time comes past calamities will not repeat.”
“Hard lessons have been learned,” Grime replied, “and I bear the mark of steel’s harsh tutelage. I am not in the habit of repeating mistakes.”
“Then I should warn you that a stranger was in the crowd this evening,” Morgynn said, “a gangly fellow with a heavy cloak to hide their features. No tail to speak of, but more newt-like in build than toad or frog.”
Grime grimaced. “Shit,” he muttered, “I have to go.”
“Say the word and I’ll have people detain them.” Morgynn offered.
“No, she is my-” Grime cut himself off before the word daughter left his mouth. “She is an ally.” he amended. “She should have been resting,” he added, the concern in his voice not going unnoticed by Morgynn, “but no matter. May your feet never leave the path, Morgynn.”
“Good night, Grime.” Morgynn waved a farewell.
Sasha was, as Grime expected, waiting outside his door when he returned to the inn. Grime held a hand up to forestall any comment.
“Tomorrow morning, Lieutenant. I’ll explain tomorrow morning.”
Sasha’s eye twitched. “I don’t need an explanation , Grime. I need you to trust me. I need you to not leave me out of your plans. What if you’d lost? Who would’ve helped you, huh?” Her voice was a low hiss, and there was a fragility to her that Grime hadn’t seen outside of the few moments she’d talked about her friends. “What would I have done, waking up with you gone?”
With a start, Grime realized she was trying very hard not to cry. “I am… I am sorry, Sasha. I wanted you to get some rest, and thought that if you were worrying-”
“Yeah well if you wanted me to get some rest you should learn to move more quietly.” Sasha replied with a watery chuckle. “Or, I don’t know, fill me in on what you’re doing so I don’t panic thinking you’re trying to ditch me or something.” It was said in jest, but Grime heard the slight tinge of real fear underneath.
“I promise you, Sasha, that I am not going to abandon you.” Grime said, firmly. “You will remain by my side until you can get home.”
Sasha sniffed and punched Grime in the shoulder, trying to recover some of her dignity. “Damn right. You’d be lost without me.”
“Of course Lieutenant.” Grime smiled, feeling strangely pleased that he’d been able to calm Sasha’s fears. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need some rest, and you do too.”
“Yeah.” Sasha said, and the anger and tension seemed to go out of her in a rush. “Goodnight, Captain.”
“Goodnight, Sasha.” Grime said. “We’ll speak again in the morning.” He entered his room, stripped off his armor (only wincing a little at his newly-bruised ribs), and felt every one of his years as he collapsed on the mattress. This is your last chance at revenge , he thought, and your last chance to achieve your dream. Are you prepared to sacrifice everything to get there?
His last thought before sleep claimed him was that he was no longer sure.