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Still... he was wearing his armor again. “I am told you have a Strength beyond mortal man.” he said.

“It’s only rank six.” I said. “Nothing worth bragging about.”

“Help me get... the breastplate loose.” he said. “It’s pinching my belly, gods be merciful.”

“I could cut...”

“Thurio, you do NOT want to finish that sentence. For longer than there has been a Red Tide, for longer than my younger brother has had his special axe, this has been MY armor. It is my life, and when it fails, I shall die.” He shook his head violently, as though trying to whip his mane through the air. “While I live, this is my armor. When I die, it shall serve as my casket. Should you ever harm this armor, you have harmed me.”

He picked up one of the pieces of scattered firewood in his hand and squeezed. It made popping noises, and then finally began to crack. “Woe unto him who harms me and does not finish the job, for I, Guur, am a minotaur.” He set the damaged log on top of the pile still where it should be.

“Oh. Thurio.” he then said, as though he hadn’t been addressing him all along.

“Lord Guur?”

.....

“Stop stabbing my smallest brother. When you go too far, I will NOT protect you when he decides to fight back.”

He grunted as though in pain when I compressed his lower left torso, just above the chest. I got the lowest buckle undone, and the one above it before he had to breathe in. When I did the same for his other side, the front and back plates sprang open, like a metal clamshell.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh...” he said, reaching a hand underneath to scratch his belly. “It is so easy to loose Fitness, and it takes so long to gain it back.”

“Do it right, rather than fast.” Thurio said.

“And you, smallest brother?” Guur asked.

“The enemy is near; the war is now. There is no longer a spare moment to waste.” I said, while forcing the clam open to permit his hands greater access. “Lord Guur, we must get you out of this armor.”

He clenched his teeth. “I just got it back on.”

“Thurio, take a look at our lord’s belly. Tell him if you see what I do.”

Thurio stalked over like an idly hungry cat. “The stomach is discolored.” he said. “bruised, as though a giant had clasped you like a large doll.”

“My System would tell me...” he began, his eyes briefly focusing on something neither of us could see. He huffed once, twice, his fists almost vibrating as they shook. “Help me get out of this armor.”

Trained squires, I am told, can do in under ten minutes what took us twenty three.

“Argh!” Guur said, slapping his belly. “Blocked blood flow, my tail! I’ve no time for THIS if I’m to fight properly in this hopeless battle.”

“If I may,” Thurio said, “it took you years to gain that belly, it isn’t reasonable to expect to fix it in just a few days. This is a problem that requires time and exercise; not just a sword.”

“Smallest brother.” Guur said, “I have an idea. Let us be on our way to that road with all the shrines on it.”

“Lord,” I said back, “This is a terrible idea.”

“How do you know what my idea is?” he asked.

“Because you telegraphed it.” Thurio said. “My lord.”

“Fine. Tell me what I’m thinking.” he said.

“You mean to cut away the offending fat, and have the healers of the shrines help seal up the wound, and make you fit for battle in a matter of days. But you ignore the damage such a surgery would do.”

“I am counting on that damage.” Guur said. “This fat has to go.”

“Wait.” I said, “he’s right? I have to agree, even with both healers and potions on hand, that’s...”

“A battle I shall not shirk from.” Guur said. He slapped a hand onto my shoulder, and another onto Thurio’s. “Come, let us go now. As you said, there is little to no time.”

We set out, accompanied by roughly a dozen soldiers who seemed used to escorting their lord about town on random missions.

“Lord Guur?” I asked.

“Please, call me larger brother.” he said.

I sighed. “Larger brother, how do you intend to pay the healers for their services?”

“With their lives, of course.” Guur replied.

“My lord,” Thurio said, “Although I hate to concur with... With your brother, I must agree. Threatening people and then placing your life into their hands seems...”

“I do not share your fears, Thurio.” he said.

“Not fears, no. Never fears, great lord, just... concerns.”

“And you, smallest brother?”

I turned my head to look toward his face. “I have fears. You will be under another’s knife, at the mercy of healers. One presumes these will be human healers, as most of this town is human.

“I am not THAT fat.” he said. “I shall hold the blade myself, and be my own surgeon. And if I cut my stomach or intestines by accident, then there shall be healers right there.”

“This plan doesn’t seem to be well thought out, elder brother.” I said.

“BAH. Thinking. We are at WAR, and war is a time for actions, not for thinking.”

“Larger brother, perhaps you would permit me to make my report before rushing into anything?”

“What? NO. I will listen to no reports, no bad advice, and no ... no cowardice. I will survive this; if I do not, then make your reports to Uma.”

“Bother, you seem able to fight for the first time since...”

With the barest of warnings, the hand on my shoulder pinched inward. “No. Cowardice.” he said. “I mean the things I say. I am not a diplomat; I desire no social class. It is time to cut away the needless fat of a warrior too long away from the battlefield.” A rumbling came from deep in his throat. “Literally, in this case.”

We took turns, we took breaks to come at things from another angle. He was Guur, brother to the emperor, of the same blood as the Axe Hero, and nothing we mere mortals had to say about it mattered.

“All magical healers attend!” Guur bellowed, soon after we were on Shrine Street.

“I know your oaths, and you simply cannot leave a wounded being to die! Know that this day, you shall be proving which faiths humans should be allowed to practice. Behold, this day is a day of war. The enemy has come, and I must fit into my armor. And that means it is time! I have made my decision in this matter, and now you must make yours! Behold! This much pain I endure gladly, that I may fight and die in defense of this city remaining part of the Tidelands.”

The things he whispered as his knife carved living fat from living muscle, and then from the skin itself.

I reached out to grab his wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked.

“I am thinking why not be rid of a broken intestine, and have them grow a new one?”

“It doesn’t work that way!” I said. “Many wish it did, but it doesn’t. I might or might not survive such a wound, but brother, it would certainly kill you!”

He slapped me away with the back of his free hand, and I sprawled.

“I literally cannot lie to you!” I shouted. “It’s too much injury, too swiftly!”

“LIES! I. Am. A. Minotaur!”

“You are an idiot.” said a grizzled old man, nimbly stepping directly into one of the guards. “Let me pass, you fool! I am a Hermetic, an oath-sworn healer.”

When that didn’t work, he added, “Your leader is literally bleeding out with every heartbeat.”

“Godon.” I said, “Let the healers pass.”

“Damn your eyes, you fools!” the man bellowed. “Grab me every blanket and towel in sight, and pray that it is enough.”

“I’m not done yet, elder.” Guur said.

The old man shoved him onto his butt. “You are done.” the old man said. “What remains to be seen is how far done you are. Oh, merciful gods, that’s going to get infected no matter what I do.”

“Spirits of disease, of illness, of the wrecking of health and rending of the body, it is I, Rhishisikk, shaman and dream-walker. I bid you relax you hold upon this noble warrior. Let disease weaken its grip upon his form. Reduce Disease!”

“As if I’d let YOU show me up at what I do! Aura of life, of health and fitness, it is I, Medes the Healer who bids you take heed! Close these wounds, bind sundered flesh together, wind the vessels for the blood together and make them whole again! Mend Flesh!”

He was the first of many, yet we carried Guur back to the city center.

Yes, it once had another name. Not my city, not my civics. I wash my hands of the matter.